She started to follow her mother, but the giant clog of jumbled furnishings slowed her pace like quicksand and she stopped to take it in. Well, this had changed. The house was a turmoil of contrasting florals and patterns and textures and styles—it swam before her. Charley looked at the walls, the pillows, the paintings, the bric-a-brac; this was how her mother spent her time—filling every inch of space. It actually seemed to move, it was so busy. Charley stopped in the foyer, the jam-packed living room on her right, cluttered dining room on her left. She slowly turned. It wasn’t so much the disarray; it was the amount! She began to feel claustrophobic. Had Louise become a hoarder?
She thought she recognized a painting. Then a familiar candelabra. And then with a gasp she realized that Louise had stuffed every last possession from Grandma Berkey’s Grand Avenue manse into her house. How the devil did these maids for hire dust it all?
“The coffee is in here, Charley,” her mother called from the kitchen.
There were two buffets and Grandma Berkey’s breakfront, filled with silver, crystal, china and collectibles. The walls were literally covered with paintings, gilt mirrors, sconces, clocks. The antique furniture and accoutrements alone were worth tens of thousands of dollars. Charley remembered her grandparents’ home and all its plenty. She’d wondered just how the Berkey wealth had been disposed. Since Aunt Jo couldn’t seem to afford a car anymore, it was possible all of Grandma’s valuables had been moved right into Louise’s possession.
Well, that could be dealt with another time. Grandma wasn’t dead yet.
She pushed through the swinging door and tried not to react to the junk-shop atmosphere of the kitchen. But again, Louise had surrounded herself with tons of useless, though perhaps valuable, possessions. She had refused to part with a single thing. It would have to be inventoried by someone smarter than Charley. It struck her that she might be the only surviving daughter when Louise died and she’d actually be stuck with this mountain of expensive junk. She shivered at the thought.
“It isn’t cold in here, Charley. In fact, I’ve been baking,” Louise said, putting a cup of coffee on the kitchen table. No baked goods appeared.
Charley pulled out a chair, picked up the cup and took a sip and sat down at the table, cup in both hands. “Mother, sit down, please. Let’s talk.”
Louise had a turn to her lips that said resistance, but she sat.
“Krista came directly to the lake house from jail. It’s very important to her to do things right after all she’s been through. She wants permission to stay at the lake house for a while. She wants to ask someone and have someone tell her it’s okay. So—who is the owner now, Mother? Would that be you?”
“Hmm. That’s more than you and your sister thought to do.”
“Yes, correct, we—or really Megan—assumed. Or would that be presumed? But that’s beside the point. Call us rude, I don’t care. But I think it’s important to honor Krista’s request to have official permission.”
“If I didn’t give her permission, would it cause the rest of you to leave and stay out of that house?”
“Not a chance.”
“Then tell Krista she has her permission. I don’t expect any of you cares how it makes me feel.”
Charley decided to let it go. “Are you the official owner?”
“I’m the official trustee to Grandma Berkey’s trust and executor of her estate. I disposed of her other real estate, pay her bills and taxes, control her income—which goes directly to the nursing home. I take care of all her needs. I alone.”
“Aunt Jo doesn’t help with any of that?”
“Hah. She’s barely capable of taking care of herself.”
“I see. Okay. Just out of curiosity—if you’re the trustee and you hate the lake house so much, why haven’t you sold it?”
“Grandma objected. I’m merely honoring her wishes. She always hoped we’d open it up again one day but I have no use for that place.” Then Louise looked away in obvious discomfort, making Charley wonder just who wouldn’t sell that property.
“I know it’s none of my business but does Aunt Jo get anything? When Grandma dies?”
Louise looked back sharply. “Grandma has a will. For the time being her worldly goods and accounts and social security and pension are being used to pay for her care. When she dies her will goes into effect. She made her decisions about that a long time ago.”
She knows, Charley thought. But she won’t tell.
“There isn’t much, Charley,” Louise said. “A lot of widows my age go on vacations and cruises and have their nails and hair done but I stay home and make sure Grandma is cared for. It’s more than a full-time job. That’s all I’ve done for almost twenty years.”
Charley decided to call her bluff, just for vicious fun. She leaned back in her chair. “I have some time on my hands, Mother. Why don’t I take care of Grandma’s needs for a month or two while you do some traveling? You could sell off what’s in that breakfront and cruise around the world a couple of times.”
“When my daughter has cancer and could be dying?” Louise countered.
“Megan is planning on staying at the lake,” Charley reminded her.
“Surely not for the rest of her life!”
“Very possibly,” Charley said. But then Louise had been told more than once. She just hated to deal with it.
“I just can’t believe that!”
“Well, you’d better. Which brings me to another matter. Aunt Jo. She won’t go to the lake unless you invite her. She’s adamant. I want you to call her and tell her that you have no problem with her going to the lake.”
“I don’t even know her phone number,” Louise said churlishly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away.
“I’ll be glad to give you the number. Now, Mother, I think Aunt Jo is being very sensitive to your feelings on the matter, but not only does she deserve a chance to be with Megan, both Hope and Krista will be at the lake this summer and those are her daughters.”
“Hope?”
“Yes, and her daughters, though I don’t think Frank is coming. Hope wrote to Meg something about business in Europe. He’s a big shot, you know.”
“Hmph. What else would Hope deign to have?”
“You don’t like Hope?”
“She’s a snotty social climber. I don’t have much use for that.”
Charley was again given pause. She was confused. “When did you last see Hope?” she asked Louise.
“Does it matter?”
“Well... Yeah, it matters. If you haven’t seen Hope for over twenty-five years and still have this impression of her... I mean, you don’t know anything about her. Anymore at least.”
“I’m sure she hasn’t changed,” Louise said decidedly.
“She probably hasn’t,” Charley muttered, noting her mother’s expression of satisfaction. “Not that you’d know anything about it. Now, back to Aunt Jo. Please, tell her you don’t mind if she goes to the lake. It’s her family, too.”
“But I do mind,” Louise said. The expression on her face looked as though she might cry, but her eyes didn’t so much as cloud. “I mind everyone going. I mind my daughter, who is sick, going to that god-awful place. Doesn’t anyone care what it will do to me if two of my daughters die there?”
What it will do to me? Doesn’t anyone care about me? Do to me, to me, me, me...
Charley took a sip of her coffee to keep her mouth from sagging open forever. Then she put her cup down on the table and looked at her mother, shaking her head. “The rest of us were thinking of someone else, Mother.” She took a deep breath. “Will you please do this for Megan? She’s too sick to argue with you about it.”
“I saw her just a week ago. She seemed quite feisty to me.”
“A note,” Charley said, ignoring her. “Jus
t jot out a little note to Aunt Jo. I’m going over there to pick up Krista. I’ll pass it to her. Just say, ‘Jo, you’re welcome to go to the lake anytime you like. Lou.’ That should do the trick. And believe me—we’d all appreciate it very much. You’ll just never know.” And hurry, Charley thought. If I don’t get out of here quick, I might have to kill you.
But Louise didn’t move. She sat there staring at Charley. Charley heard the ticking of at least three clocks. It seemed to last forever.
Finally, Louise rose from the table, went to the cupboard from which she withdrew a blank recipe card from a box and a pen. She scrawled the requested note and angrily thrust it at Charley. “Do you have everything you need?” she asked meanly.
Charley took it slowly. Then she stood. They were both tall women; they looked eye to eye at about five foot ten. “Mother, you should see someone. You don’t have to be this miserable.”
Louise forced a smile that looked positively psychopathic. “Who says I’m miserable? I have a good Christian life. I have the Lord at least, which is more than I can say for some people in my family. You have your permissions, Charley, you don’t have to stay here with your mother a minute longer than necessary. But there’s one thing you should know—I’ll be damned to hell before I’ll go to that house again.”
A little spittle caught on Louise’s lower lip when she spat the last sentence and Charley was reminded of some of her mother’s insane rages when they were small. Most of them were at her, of course. Charley slowly turned, picked up her purse and left the house. When she closed the front door behind her, she whispered, “Thank you, God. I owe you one.”
Louise never asked how she was, how Krista had fared after twenty-three years in prison, how her grandchildren were. She never asked about Charley’s job, though she probably knew her show had been canceled. No, there was nothing about anyone else. Louise thought only of herself. How lonely she must be.
Charley looked at the note.
Josephine—Go to the lake house if you must, though it will probably kill me! Louise
In spite of herself she began to laugh.
* * *
“Hi, Ma.”
Josephine heard it clearly but she was afraid to look up from the flora she was arranging in a basket. She was afraid it might not be real. She slowly turned, lifting her eyes hopefully but fearfully. Her head began shake in wonder and tears came immediately to her eyes. “Oh, baby, oh, Krista, oh, baby,” she cried. She walked shakily toward Krista, her hands reaching out for her daughter’s face.
Krista stood still, smiling, giving her mother some time to reach her and touch her. Jo’s hands were roughly textured, marked by hard work and long cold winters.
Jo pressed Krista’s face between the flat palms of her open hands. “Krista,” she said breathily. “Oh, my God, my baby, my darling, my Krista!”
“I got out a little early,” she said.
Jo let her hands flow down Krista’s shoulders, arms, back, waist. “You’re so little. Have you always been so little?”
“I’m right about your size.”
“Well, height, maybe,” Jo said, a laugh almost breaking through her tears. Jo was softly, roundly padded. A little stooped from being on her feet all day for years and years. “My baby. Home,” she whispered, kneading her upper arms. “You’re small—but you’re strong. Feel your muscles.”
“I’m very strong, Ma. Runs in the family, huh?” By now Krista could not hold back her own tears, fogging up her vision and tingling her nose. She resented the intrusion of tears. She wanted a clear vision of her mother. It had been a couple of years since she’d seen her. Jo had written faithfully at least every week, sending fifty dollars every month without fail, but she had rarely visited.
Jo’s skin was soft and wrinkled but she was still beautiful. She’d worked hard over the years; anyone who thought the floral industry was a bucket of posies didn’t know anything. Her light brown hair was threaded with gray and was thinner and wispier than it had been. But her smile, her smile was so sweet, even with tears catching in the wrinkles under her eyes. Krista took her into her arms and gave her a hearty hug. “Ohhh, Mom,” she said, holding her close.
“Didn’t they feed you? Are you okay? You’re pale. You’re too thin.”
“I’m fine, Ma.” Krista looked around the little flower shop; there didn’t seem to be anyone around. “Can you sneak away for lunch?”
With precision timing, a woman stood in the doorway leading to the back of the shop. She was much younger than Jo, maybe thirty-five, and stocky. She looked at Krista suspiciously. She probably knew, Krista assumed.
“Sure I can, honey. I’m the manager. I don’t know that I could possibly eat, but we can go for a walk at least. I don’t like to take too much time away—”
“Go on and go, Jo,” the woman said. “I’ll handle the shop.”
“Oh, Margie, I didn’t see you there. Margie, this is my daughter Krista. Krista, this is Margie Ripley. She helps out part-time.” She looked back at Krista. “I haven’t seen Krista in a long time, Margie. She’s been...she’s been...”
“In the Army,” Krista said, reaching around her mother and extending her hand toward the younger woman. “I just got out of the Army. This week, in fact. How do you do?” Margie was very slow to take Krista’s hand. Krista bobbed. She did everything but salute.
“Go on then, Josephine. Take a little bit of time with your daughter. You betcha.”
“Thanks, Margie. I won’t be gone too long.” Jo eased herself past Margie and into the back room to get her purse. Krista could hear the sound of a woman’s voice, that nasal Midwestern twang, asking where she was going, but she couldn’t hear her mother’s reply.
Jo tucked her arm through Krista’s as they left the shop. “You want something to eat, honey? There’s a grill down the street a ways. A sandwich place over there. Or, if you don’t mind a crowd, there’s that pizzeria...”
“I mind the crowd, Ma. I want to talk to you more than anything. Find out how you are. If you’re coming to the lake. You know. We don’t need a big crowd on our first visit. How about that little park over there? That’s where I sat while I was getting my nerve up to come into the flower shop.”
“You needed courage to come to see me? You don’t mean that, Krista. Not really.”
“Not because of you, Ma. Because of me. I’m such a disappointment. It must be hard to be my mother, huh?” she asked, only half-facetiously. “Someone who’s been in the Army for twenty-three years.” Then she laughed with the painful truth of it.
“I’m proud of you, if you want to know. You worked hard in there—counseling, your GED, even some classes with college credits. How did you get here?”
“Charley brought me and dropped me off. She has some errands and will be back in a couple of hours. If it’s not a good idea for me to hang around the shop, I’ll just get a soda and come back later.”
“Will you stay with me? I only have the one bedroom but I’ll take the couch. It’s small but nice and it’s only a block from the bus.”
“Where’s your car?” Krista asked.
“I got rid of it years ago.”
“I thought you’d be getting another one,” Krista said.
“I wasn’t using it too much. I took the bus most of the time to economize. After a while I thought, I don’t need that car at all, not really. It wasn’t just the gas but every time I turned around it needed some mechanical fix. I like not having a car, to tell the truth. But do you want to stay with me?”
“I want to spend as much time with you as possible, but I’m going to try to stay at the lake with Megan and Charley. If I don’t find work nearby I might have to come to the city, but Megan...you know about Megan. I want to spend time with her, too. For right now, I’ll be at the lake,” Krista said. She steered her mother toward the l
ittle park just down the street. There were a couple of benches, a sandbox and some swings and a slide. “Maybe for the whole summer, depending. Charley is going to pick me up here, right where she left me off, and we’re going to swing by Megan’s house so I can say hello. You can come with us, too, if you want. Today, if you want to.”
They sat down on the bench, still clutching each other’s hands. Jo didn’t say anything.
“I’m going to get a job as soon as I can, Ma. I don’t want you to feel obligated, but if you want we can get a place together. It’s up to you, okay?”
“I’d love that. Maybe after you’re all settled,” Jo said quietly. “You should get your life settled. You shouldn’t have to worry about me.”
Krista laughed and pulled Jo into a hug. “I’m not worried about you, Ma. I want to be with you if we can work it out! You shouldn’t worry about having a place for me. I should worry about having a place for you!”
Jo turned her watering eyes and gazed at her daughter’s face. She patted her cheek. “You’re such a good girl, Krista. How do I deserve such a good girl as you?”
Krista laughed again. “Only a mother could say that to a kid who just wrapped up a twenty-five-year sentence. You haven’t lost your sense of humor. So, how about it? Want to go tell what’s-her-name...Margie...that you’re taking a little time off?”
“I wish I could, honey. I wish I could, that’s for sure...”
“Sure you can! I’ll take care of you now. I don’t know exactly how, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Krista, honey, I know it doesn’t look like very much of a job, but it’s a good job. The owner has been really good to me—I have a decent paycheck and benefits and she’s flexible with my schedule. I wouldn’t take off without notice—I’m the manager. Margie just couldn’t handle it. She thinks she could but... It wouldn’t be fair of me—even if it’s because you’re home now. And me being sixty-five and without very many skills—good jobs don’t come along every day. You might think you’re going to get yourself a big fancy job that pays for both of us, but, Krista, honey, it just isn’t that simple anymore. We’re gonna have to take this a little slower, honey.”