“I don’t want coffee.”
“Tea?”
“Not tea, not water, not anything. I don’t have time.”
Leota eased herself back into her recliner. She looked at her daughter where she sat on the edge of the sofa. She was dressed in elegant gray slacks, a white silk shirt, and a charcoal tweed blazer. She wore gold earrings and necklace, and dark-gray leather pumps with edges of brown across the tops to match the bag she hadn’t unlooped from her shoulder. Her hands, nails perfectly manicured and painted red, gripped her knees.
One false word. Leota knew that was all it would take and her daughter would be on her feet and out the front door in a huff. “It’s nice to see you, dear. You had your hair cut since I saw you last.” It was shorter, just below her ears, layered and in soft frosted curls.
“I suppose you don’t like it.”
“I like it very much. It frames your face very nicely.” Her daughter always did have a wonderful sense of style.
“Thank you,” Eleanor said, a sour twist to her lips. “I came to discuss the arrangements for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“We’ve invited George and Jeanne and the children. Jeanne says she’s sure they can make it. She’s going to bring a couple of pies. You can bring something, too, if you like, though it’s not necessary. Annie plans to have the food on the sideboard back there. Everyone can serve him- or herself that way. We’ll set the nook table for Mitzi and Marshall, and the adults can sit at the dining room table.”
“There’s not enough room around your table.”
“There will be when we put the table leaves in. They’ve been stored in the bedroom closet.”
“You haven’t the money for a nice centerpiece.”
“I have a garden.”
“Yes. You have a garden. How could I forget?” She pressed her lips together when her mother said nothing. “It’d be easier and much better if we had Thanksgiving at my house.”
“I haven’t had Thanksgiving here in years, Eleanor.”
“You never fixed Thanksgiving dinner, Mother. Not once, that I can remember. Grandma Reinhardt is the one who had it because this was her home and not ours. And she did all the work.”
“Just the way you do.”
Eleanor lifted her chin slightly. “It’s one of the things I enjoy doing for my family.”
“About as much as Mama Reinhardt did, I would imagine.”
Eleanor said nothing for a couple of seconds. Leota could feel the undercurrent and was afraid of being sucked under.
“Annie can’t cook,” Eleanor said finally.
“You might be surprised what Annie can do.”
“Shocked, more likely. It’ll be a disaster and you know it. Is that what you want? To see her humiliated?”
“It’ll only be a disaster if you make it so.”
“If it all goes wrong, you’ll blame me. Is that it?”
“No one has ever cast blame on you, Eleanor.” She held her breath for two seconds and then said it straight out, once and for all: “I was always the scapegoat.”
“Oh, that’s rich, Mother. You escaped every bit of responsibility you ever had! Two children. Remember us? You moved into Grandpa Reinhardt’s house and dumped us on Grandma so that you could go off and live the high life. Even when you came home, you were more interested in that garden than in me or George!”
“You have no idea of the circumstances—”
“No circumstances would make me dump my children. I’ve always been there for them. From the time they were babies I managed to be at home with them. I’m still at home for them.”
“And you think that makes you a better mother than I was?”
“Yes!” Nora’s eyes glittered with angry tears. “I do. I don’t think you ever had any idea of what being a mother was all about.”
Leota’s heart broke as she looked into her daughter’s eyes. How had they come to this impasse? Surely all that fury hid a sea of hurt, but how could Leota get through to her daughter and convince her she had always been loved? Leota had done what she thought was best . . . what she’d had to do. Eleanor looked away from Leota’s scrutiny and closed her eyes as though she couldn’t bear it.
“You have no idea how awful it was, do you, Mother?”
“No, I don’t.” She only knew how awful it had been for her. “Tell me.”
Eleanor looked back at her in despair. “Why should I? So you can make more excuses?”
Leota had no more time to waste playing who-was-right-and-who-was-wrong. “How many years will it be before you decide to move on with your life instead of blaming everything on the past?” She saw the flush pour into her daughter’s cheeks. Not from conviction, but from temper. So much for getting to the heart of things.
The sound of a key in the door drew their attention. Corban unlocked the front door.
Eleanor rose. “Who is this, and what’s he doing with a key to the house?” she said heatedly as Corban stepped into the room. He looked at Eleanor in surprise and then glanced at Leota.
“This is Corban Solsek. Corban, meet Eleanor Gaines, my daughter.”
“Nice to meet you.” His tone of voice said the opposite.
Leota nodded at him. “You can put those groceries in the kitchen and join us if you would like.”
“I’ve got another bag in the car.”
“Did I give you enough money?”
“More than enough. I’ll give you the change as soon as I put these things away.”
Eleanor sat rigidly on the sofa, watching and listening. Corban glanced at her again. “If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Gaines,” he said and headed for the kitchen.
“Are you completely out of your mind giving a stranger a key?” Eleanor said in an angry whisper. “Who is this person, and what do you know about him?”
“Corban’s been coming over to help me for several months now. Every Wednesday like clockwork.”
“How did you meet him?”
“I called an agency after seeing an ad on television.”
“Oh, Mother.”
Leota had had just about enough. “I need groceries. It’s a long walk to the market, uphill all the way home. I don’t drive. What would you have me do, Eleanor? Starve?”
“You can call in an order to a grocery store and they’ll deliver it.”
That would be nice and impersonal. And expensive. “I prefer this arrangement. Besides, Corban is good company.” Nothing like a discussion with him to get her blood up. “Sometimes he even drops by on the weekend and helps in the garden.” Not that he liked it much. She suspected he was becoming more interested in her granddaughter than in horticulture.
“What does George have to say about this?”
“Why should George have anything to say about it? He hasn’t called in months. I doubt he knows. He’s too busy with his business and family to have time to run over here and help me.”
“That’s just an excuse,” Eleanor said, clearly annoyed.
“Oh, you know how it is, Eleanor. I’m sure Michael is just as busy with his life, too.”
Eleanor’s eyes sparked. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing other than what I said. Why are you always so defensive about everything I say? All I mean is it’s nice to have company once in a while. Corban is welcome here anytime he wants to drop by. I’m not sending him away.”
“Just like you won’t send Anne-Lynn home, even when you know it’s where she belongs.”
“If you wanted Annie at home, why were you going to send her off to Wellesley?”
Eleanor blushed dark red. “It would’ve been better for her future than art school.”
“She’s very gifted, Eleanor. Just as you were.”
“Oh. You’re an art expert now?”
“I know what I like.”
“Leota!” Corban called from the kitchen. “Where do you want your Metamucil?”
“Above the sink! Cabinet to the left with the water glasses. You can put it on the bottom
shelf with the vitamins and aspirin.”
“He calls you Leota?” Eleanor was clearly scandalized.
“What would you have him call me? Grandma Moses?”
“Mrs. Reinhardt would be more appropriate.”
“He’s a friend. I told him to call me Leota.”
“How do you know he isn’t just worming his way in here in hopes you’ll leave him something in your will?”
That gave Leota pause. Was that what worried Eleanor? Not concern for her mother’s safety or fear that someone might be taking advantage of an old lady? It was her inheritance, such as it was. “What would I leave him that matters to you, Eleanor? You hate everything about this house. There isn’t a thing I have that you want.” At least, that was what Eleanor had always said. Had she changed her mind?
“Are you saying you’re going to put him in your will?”
“We aren’t discussing my will. I’m asking you what you want!”
Eleanor’s eyes flickered. She looked embarrassed and ashamed, then angry.
Would Eleanor ever understand that she was the daughter of her mother’s heart? What more could Leota do to make it clear? “If there’s anything in this house that means anything to you, Eleanor, anything at all, all you’ve got to do is tell me and I’ll make sure you have it.”
Face pinched, Eleanor got up and went to the front window, drawing the curtain aside. Was she checking to make sure the hubcaps were still on her car?
Corban came back into the living room. Leota saw by the look on his face that he was ready to go. “Why don’t you heat some water, and we can have some of that cappuccino Annie brought last week?”
Eleanor let the curtain drop back into place. Barnaby moved to the far end of his perch, as far away from her as he could get. She turned and glanced pointedly at her wristwatch. “I said I don’t want any coffee, Mother. I’m late enough as it is.”
“You wouldn’t mind if Leota had cappuccino, would you?” Corban’s tone was pure ice.
“Excuse me?”
He made a point of ignoring Eleanor as he looked at Leota. “Would you like some cappuccino, Leota?”
She tried not to smile at his defensive manner. Who would have known . . . ? “Yes, I would.”
“I’ll fix it then.” He went back into the kitchen.
Eleanor stared after him in consternation. “I’ve never met anyone so rude.”
“He’s just being protective of me. Oh, I know he could use a bit of polishing, but then, so could we all.”
Eleanor shifted the strap of her shoulder bag and straightened her jacket. “Are we settled now about Thanksgiving?”
“Absolutely. Annie and I will have Thanksgiving dinner here. I hope you’ll join us.”
Eleanor’s cheeks flushed. “We’ll talk about it more later.” Yanking the front door open, she walked out, banging it shut behind her.
Corban came out of the kitchen a few minutes later with a cup of steaming cappuccino. He set it carefully on her side table. “Careful. It’s hot.”
“Thank you, Corban. What about you?”
“No, thanks,” he said glumly. “Sorry if I was rude, Leota.” He nodded toward the closed front door. “Annie’s mother, right? Boy, is she a piece of work.”
She looked up at him. “You could both do with some tenderizer. Sit down, Corban.”
“I’d better get going.”
“Not yet.” She nodded toward the sofa. “Sit and tell me what’s troubling you.”
He sat, looking pale and strained. Leaning forward, he raked his hands back through his hair. When he raised his head again, she saw he was struggling not to cry. He shook his head. “I can’t.”
Leota watched the struggle. She could feel his grief as though it were her own, even not knowing the cause. He reminded her of Bernard. “Confession’s good for the soul, Corban. Have you ever heard that?”
“I’m not a religious man.”
“I’m talking about faith, not religion.”
“I’m not a man of faith either.” A muscle jerked in his cheek. “Besides, I’m not the one who needs to be confessing.”
“If you talk about it, get it out in the open, it’ll lose its power over you.”
He shook his head again. “It’s too soon,” he said in a choked voice. He rose and looked at her in apology. “I’d better go. I wouldn’t be good company today.”
“You’re right. I would miss your usually sunny personality.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Say hi to Annie when she calls you.”
“You know her number. If it’s easier to talk to her, give her a call. But get it off your chest, whatever it is.” As he turned away, she said his name and waited until he was looking at her again. “Don’t let the root of bitterness take hold, Corban. If you do, you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to pull it out.”
He closed the door quietly behind him. Leota heard his car roar to life. As the sound of it faded, despair came down over her like a suffocating blanket. She was all alone again. Her chest ached so terribly. She thought of Eleanor and George.
Nothing is ever going to change, she realized. All right, old woman. Accept it. Just get up and go into the kitchen and take those pills you’ve been hoarding for the past year. If one is supposed to keep your blood pressure down, the whole bottle ought to give you a peaceful passing.
“I love you, Grandma.”
The words startled her. “Annie?” Had her granddaughter come in quietly, without Leota noticing? How could that happen when she’d been sitting in her recliner facing the front door? Had Annie parked in the driveway and come in the back door? Leota looked around her chair, but didn’t see her. Maybe she’d fallen asleep and dreamed about taking all those pills and leaving the anguish of living behind her.
“I love you, Grandma.”
Leota stared in amazement. It was Barnaby, speaking in Annie’s voice. Clear. Sweet. Full of tenderness.
“Now you talk.” She was filled with disappointment. “Lord, did You ever stop to think that I’ve had enough? I’ve done all I can think to do. And I’m done. Finished. I’d rather be up there with You than down here in the middle of this mess. And if I have to do it myself . . .”
“I love you, Grandma.”
Annie. What would it do to Annie to find her grandmother’s body crumpled on the floor and then learn she’d swallowed a whole bottle of pills? Leota knew what it would do.
“I love you, Grandma.”
“Shut up. I heard you the first time.” She supposed this was His answer, too. I love you. Was He telling her to stop feeling sorry for herself and keep up the good fight?
“Most people get to retire . . .”
“I love you, Grandma.”
Fine, Lord. All right, all right! She knew very well if she went into the kitchen and swallowed all those pills, it would hurt Annie. No telling where she would pass out. She would hardly be a pretty sight, crumpled and dead and discovered several days later. Far from dignified.
“I love you, Grandma.”
“I heard you already. Now, eat some birdseed!”
But Barnaby kept it up all afternoon, until Leota’s fighting spirit was back in full measure—and she was ready to wring his scrawny neck.
Chapter 17
The last person Leota expected to call her was her son. But call her he did. She was pleasantly surprised by George’s voice on the telephone . . . until she understood the point of his call.
“Mother, Nora mentioned she met a young man at your house the other day.”
“Corban,” Leota said after a brief hesitation. Disappointment filled her, making her heart ache. “Corban Solsek. He’s a volunteer for an elder-care agency I called. I suppose Nora also told you I got the number from a television ad.”
“What do you know about this young man, Mother?”
“He came with a reference and he’s willing to help. What more should I know?”
“He could be anything, Mother. I don’t think it’s wise to a
llow a stranger access to your house.”
To the house. Not his mother. “A better question might be why it’s necessary for an old woman to call and ask for help from strangers.” She regretted the words as soon as they passed her lips. She was pouring on the mother guilt and building the walls higher. She could feel them going up, brick by brick. The mortar dried in the silence.
“If I had more time, I’d be over there helping you out,” George said tautly. “But I’ve got a business to run, and it’s all I can do to keep my head above water with the competition the way it is. You know that.”
“Of course, I know.” He had told her that every time they talked. Usually when she called and interrupted him. “Just don’t begrudge me getting help where and when I can. Annie visits several times a month. She’s met Corban. She likes him. If you and Nora have questions about his character, maybe you should talk with her. Or the agency.” She gave him the name and telephone number. She hoped he wasn’t talking to her with his cell phone while driving on a freeway. “He’s a university student, George. Dean’s list, I’m sure. Sociology, I think. Does that set your mind at ease, dear?”
“I didn’t call to get a lecture.”
She sighed. No matter what she said to make peace, it always backfired. Better if she said nothing and just went on with her life the way it was. “I know why you called, George.” Lord, I wish I didn’t. “Did you have anything else you wanted to say to me?”
“No, nothing else.”
“We can talk more about it when you come for Thanksgiving.”
“Nora said she’s having Thanksgiving at her house.”
So that was how Eleanor intended to get her way. “Then I suppose you’ll have to make a choice where you’re going to be. Annie and I are still planning on having Thanksgiving dinner here.”
“It’d be less work for you if Nora did it.”
Poor Annie. She’d be in the middle of the mess. Pressured on all sides. “Go where you want, George. I’ll be here.” He said nothing to that, but at least he didn’t hang up on her the way Eleanor did whenever she was thwarted. Leota let her breath out, hoping it would ease the ache in her chest. It didn’t. “I have something to ask you, George.”