“She mostly relaxes. She has her hair done. Mom would have to take her, of course, because she doesn’t drive or anything. And she likes to go shopping….”
“God help us—”
“Basically she watches her soaps and gets a good rest.”
“Why was your mother so indulgent of Ceola? I mean, didn’t Ceola mainly neglect and ignore her all her life?”
“I’m surprised she made an appearance at the funeral,” Sarah said. “But then, as David pointed out, mourning is one of her gifts.”
“Jesus.”
“Okay, we can all tell her together, or one of us can go.”
“And say what?”
“How about, ‘Ceola, unfortunately there is no room for you to stay here. We are all here because we’re working on Gabby’s writings and no one can see to your needs’?”
“What needs? All she wants is tea and half an English muffin….”
“And hair appointments and shopping and soaps and probably a number of other things that Gabby just did as a matter of reflex. She always said that she was her mother’s mother.”
“Okay, how about, ‘We’re all delighted to see you, Ceola, but since the house is filled with crazy women who have given up their families and careers and you would probably be in mortal danger here, you’ll have to go to a hotel’?”
“That’s good. I like that.”
“What is taking her so long?”
“She probably keeled over in the bathroom. Someone better go check on her.”
“Oh God, if I have to call another hearse to this house…”
“What if she grabs her heart and drops like a stone when we tell her—”
“Listen, she isn’t as frail as she looks. She’s browbeaten more men in her lifetime than most of us have met!”
“She can’t stay. Are we agreed?”
“God, yes.”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, so are we doing it together, as a team, or is one of us going to—”
Sable, who had crept away to peek down the hall, came back to the huddle. “Listen, she’s not in the bathroom! I think she’s in my room!”
“What the hell’s she doing in there?”
“She’s probably settling in,” Sarah said. “And waiting for you to bring her her bags so she can unpack.”
“Jesus Christ! This isn’t her house, for God’s sake.”
“That never stopped her in the past.”
“Don’t even go back there, Sable. Just wait for her to come out here. Then we’ll tell her and offer to call her a cab.”
“This is Gabby’s mother we’re talking about,” some weak-kneed coward said.
“That’s too bad, isn’t it? I mean, you’re never too old to learn a few manners, for Christ’s sake. She could have at least called and asked if we could have her.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Sarah said. “She doesn’t bother to ask if the answer might be no. She just sort of…assumes.”
“She can assume at the fucking Holiday Inn.”
“This is a little old lady! Take it easy!”
“Hey, you’d better remember this is the bossiest, most presumptuous, most abusive little old lady in the free world. She’s brought entire hotel staffs to their knees!”
“As I said, this is no hotel. We’re packed in here like sardines anyway. And we’re working. We aren’t operating a home for runaway septuagenarians.”
“No, indeed! We’re operating a…a…what the hell are we operating here?”
“It doesn’t matter. We have a mission here. Ceola cannot just come in and roost because she’s out of sorts.”
“Oh yeah? I think she has.”
“Someone has to tell her. She obviously isn’t coming out here. Who’s it going to be? Elly?”
“Not me,” she said. “I’m too blunt. There’s no need to hurt her. We need a little tact and I don’t have a tactful bone in my body. Maybe Beth.”
“Beth will never get the words out of her mouth. She’ll give her a pedicure or something. Barbara Ann can do it.”
“Barbara Ann doesn’t even know her. I’ll do it,” Sable said. “There’s no way that woman is going to walk all over me.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know. That it’s impossible for her to stay. That there simply isn’t room. That we’ll be closing up the house and putting it on the market first thing tomorrow morning and her timing just couldn’t be worse. I don’t know. But you can bet I’ll get that little pink tuft of hair out of here, along with all her bangles and suitcases.”
“Try to be nice.”
“Remember, she’s just a little old lady. She can only intimidate you if you let her.”
“Go get her, tiger.”
“Yeah, well, good luck, but my money’s on Grandma.”
Sable took a deep breath, straightened her spine and stomped off in the direction of her bedroom. Someone had to do the dirty work. Ceola would be fine at a hotel. Sable would make the arrangements herself, even pay for it if necessary. But she did start to feel nervous as she approached the guest-room door. She tapped lightly and heard Ceola’s voice, suddenly frail, answer. “Come in.”
Sable pushed open the door and saw Ceola sitting on the edge of the bed. She was wearing a flowing, expensive, purple peignoir—lots of lace and many gathers of sheer fabric. Her jewelry was stacked neatly on the bed beside her and she was rubbing lotion into her hands. Her bare feet showed off toes cruelly bent from years in fashionable shoes, but the toenails were perfectly pedicured in shiny red. She looked up at Sable as she rubbed her hands together in a wringing motion. Her lips were trembling and there were tears in her eyes.
“I can see I’ve put someone out,” she said weakly, tearfully. “But this is where I’ve always stayed.”
“Yes, Ceola, but I’m afraid your timing could not possibly be worse,” Sable said.
“Oh, I’m sure of that. I’m sure of that. I’m a burden to most everyone in my life, come to that. I should have notified you all that I wanted to come…but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted so much to be here, no matter what. I…just…miss…my little Gabby…so….”
“Now, Ceola,” Sable said, moving farther into the room. “I’m sure you do. We all do. But the fact is, we’re here working on her posthumous writings, and—”
“What an advantage you have over me. Being right here in her house where you can feel close to her for just a little while longer. How very, very lucky you are. All of you.”
“But Ceola—”
“I apologize for not being more sociable. I should have come straight from the potty to the kitchen where you’re all gathering this evening, but I began to feel so terribly weak. It was a long flight, after all. All the way from Atlanta. And I was too upset to eat anything on the plane. All I’ve had today was just the littlest bite of a cracker. And some club soda. Will you ask the girls to forgive my bad manners?”
“Yes, certainly, but the problem is much larger than that, Ceola. You see—”
“It’s you I’ve put out of a room, isn’t it, dear? Oh my, I wouldn’t want that. It’s just that this is where I’ve always stayed, when I came here so many other times to be with Gabby. If you’ll just tell me where to go, I’ll make do anywhere. Any old blanket on the rug. These old, tired, aching bones don’t really care anymore. Isn’t that the worst of it, when you lose someone you love? That you just don’t care anymore? I so loved Gabby. My only child, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Sable said, thinking I’d love to tell her where to go. “Ceola, I have to tell you something—”
“And I have to tell you something, dear. It’s been left unsaid for far too long. I just want you to know how deeply I appreciate the devoted friendship you always showed my Gabby. She spoke about you often, you know.”
“She did?”
“Oh my, yes, all the time. I think you came up in almost every conversation we had. She was so very, very proud of you…all yo
ur fabulous success. I once asked her if it was ever difficult, having a friend so rich and famous, but she said, no. Never. She said your wealth and fame had never spoiled you and that you were still the sweet, kind, generous girl she knew in college.”
What bullshit, Sable thought. But then, Gabby just might have said that. She always acted as though she felt that way.
“It’s so hard to lose a child, especially one you fear you failed. Gabby was always so good to me, so loving and sweet, even though I’m sure I was not the best mother. I have so much regret. I’d give anything for another chance.”
“I’m sure she loved you very much, Ceola.”
“She did, she did, though I didn’t deserve it. How I miss my girl. I usually run to her when I’m out of sorts. I came here almost out of habit.
“Now, darling, where would you like me to sleep? Just any old chair—” She began to rise but then dropped back to the bed suddenly. “Oh. Goodness. I’m weak. Oh well, women my age should travel less and be sure to eat regular meals. I’m famished! But I’m also tired. I think I might be too tired to even walk to the kitchen.”
“You just settle back, Ceola,” Sable said, lifting the old woman’s feet up onto the bed. Defeated, and with hardly a blow.
“Oh no, I mustn’t! I think this is your room! Just give me a minute to catch my breath and then I’ll move….”
“No, no, you stay where you are.”
“But where will you sleep, dearest?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
“Oh my Lord, you are the sweetest thing. Just as kind and generous as Gabby said. Thank heavens. I don’t think I could get up now if my life depended on it. I think some of it is that I’ve been so upset. First Gabby’s death—such a shock, you know. No one expects to outlive their children. And then Martin. I’ve been overwrought.”
“What has you so overwrought with Martin? I thought he was such a sweet man?”
“Oh, he is, in his own way. It’s just that awful cardplaying at the club. Every afternoon. Day in, day out. I complained and complained about it, but my feelings just don’t matter to him.”
God, life can be cruel, Sable thought. First your only child dies and then you have to put up with your husband’s cardplaying. Ceola probably missed a manicure or two over it all!
“Do you plan to stay long?” she heard herself ask.
“I’m afraid not, darling. Only a couple of weeks. Until I get my strength back.”
Well, that should do it, Sable thought. Talk about an impetus to get your life together. What better incentive than two weeks of Ceola? Beth would probably hightail it to Kansas City, Barbara Ann would welcome the squalor of her house, Elly might cart all Gabby’s papers off to her own small home and Sable thought a press conference would be preferable to this.
“I’d fall asleep this minute, if I weren’t so famished,” Ceola said.
“Well, we’re cooking in the kitchen,” Sable offered.
“Oh thank you, dearest. Just any old thing you bring me would be welcome. And a little hot tea if you have it? Oh, and if there’s anything sweet… I always crave sweets when I’m depressed. But honestly, I’m not fussy. I think Gabby kept the bed tray in the pantry. Oh, and Sable, darling, I wouldn’t turn down a drop of brandy. To help me settle down to sleep.”
Amazing, Sable thought. She is to be studied. She has a gift. Her skills at manipulation should be written about.
“All right, Ceola. I’ll bring you a tray. This one time. And then you’re going to have to fend for yourself around here like the rest of us, or it’s off to the Holiday Inn for you. We’re all busy, working. There are no special cases around here.”
“Of course, angel, of course. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.”
Not much, she thought, but she thought it with some grudging appreciation.
All eyes were on Sable as she returned to the kitchen. Her expression was contrite, resigned. “Ceola’s going to be staying a while,” she said.
Sarah laughed. “Go Grandma! Is she good, or what?”
“Don’t look at me that way,” Sable said, shrinking under their glares. “After all, this is where she always comes!”
SIXTEEN
The finest sociological minds in the world could not have come up with a formula for it. It just worked. Some odd combination of qualities allowed Ceola to live there. It was an accident of fate. Or karma. Or insanity.
Beth, disabled by a long history of needing to please others, made Ceola’s half English muffin with marmalade, fruit cup and tea. Then she would sit with her for a while, chatting. “I can tell you a lot about men, darling,” Ceola said. “I can answer your most difficult questions. I married almost every man I ever met.”
“Did you ever have one hit you?” Beth asked, half expecting to shock the old woman into silence.
“My, yes. Rupert. Number three—the handsomest one. The more attractive they are, the more brutal. At first I was so shocked that a man would hit me, I didn’t even do anything about it. Of course, he may have loosened a few marbles, which made me confused about what was going on around me. He was also the best in bed,” she added in a whisper, leaning closer. “I haven’t figured out why that is, but it’s universal. The better-looking they are, the more virile, the more violent. I didn’t even bother to sue him for divorce. When I came to my senses, I ran for my life. But there was only that one. Rupert. Handsomest one, too. And the most virile, did I say that?”
Barbara Ann, forever shopping for groceries—a habit hard to break—happened to be the one available to take Ceola to the store, the hairdresser, the manicurist, wherever she needed to go. She was also the one Ceola could safely approach and say, “I have these few things for washing out, darling, if you find you’re going to launder anything today.”
“She has to launder,” Eleanor quipped. “She’s addicted to the washing machine. This is a halfway house for addicts, haven’t you heard?”
Sable was mysteriously drawn to Ceola. Attention from a mother-figure, even one of the most manipulative, lured Sable. Ceola was far more refined than Sable’s own mother had been. She had no hard, abusive character flaws like a quart of alcohol a day, but she had the same marvelous ability to ask without asking, need without requesting. Sable fell right into it and found herself becoming almost fond of the old woman. “Sable, my darling, are you having your cup of tea soon? Do tell me when you pour your own. I’d share a cup.” And of course Sable would merely make Ceola tea rather than make her wait. Sable was fetching her a brandy, getting her reading glasses off the bureau “while she was up” and even tucking her in at night. “I’m going to just retire to my room now and let you girls have your space,” Ceola would say. “Sable, I’m going to bed now, but I won’t go to sleep right away, if you need anything.” Of course, Sable didn’t need anything. Ceola just liked it when Sable checked on her and made sure she was in for the night.
Sarah, who said she had no relationship with her grandmother, always kissed her cheek when she arrived and brought her something sweet, which Ceola craved when she was depressed. Though she never once acted depressed, she said she always was. “For half my life, at least. I’ve had a very hard life. Do you think it’s easy to have been married eight times? The stress was sometimes unbearable.”
David hated his grandmother. He called her “the old bitch.” Not to her face, but in undertones behind her back. “Has the old bitch come to see if Mother left any valuables?” he’d ask. Or, “Are we serving the old bitch on her bed tray tonight, or is she up to dining with the unwashed masses?” The only problem with his unmasked hatred was Ed, his partner, who took to the old lady. “You’re a big enough boy now to stop being so angry with your grandmother for not fussing over you when you were small,” Ed would tell David.
Oh, and did Ceola love Ed. They sat on the couch almost like lovers or best friends. Ed was patient enough to listen to her talk about the soaps, or the latest gossip in People magazine. Or some fashion
craze. Or movie. Ed would tease her and make her laugh. Once she delightedly said, “Oh, David, where did you find this dear boy?”
“He’s not a boy, Grandmother, he’s my wife!”
To which Ed, in his most effeminent whine, replied, “Now, David, I thought you were the wife!”
Ceola merely giggled like a girl. “Boys, boys, how you tease me. You’re terrible!”
“We’re not terrible, Grandmother. We’re gay!”
She drew herself up proudly. “And so am I. Even in the very worst of times.”
Later that same evening, when Sable was settling Ceola in her bed (literally, for Sable had been moved to an uncomfortable roll-away cot in Gabby’s writing loft), she tried to have a heart-to-heart with Ceola. For David’s sake. “Ceola, David wasn’t teasing you about his relationship with Ed. And when he says ‘gay’ he doesn’t mean happy.”
“I know that, dear.”
“Then why don’t you acknowledge them? I think that’s what David wants.”
“Because I find it unpleasant. And I refuse to be coerced into discussing things I find unpleasant. I think it’s actually against the law in some places. Besides, it’s time David learned he isn’t going to get everything he wants.”
Eleanor, it would seem, was the only member of the group who didn’t have some reason to be drawn to Ceola. She certainly wasn’t going to wait on her. She was the last person to discuss fashion, hairstyles or soap operas. And she was personally miffed with the way Ceola had treated Gabby and the children all those years. So, she was the only one Ceola couldn’t reach. Until Ceola said, “I can tell you what it was that made Gabby decide to be a writer.”
“Oh? Really?”
“She once said to me, she said, ‘Ceola…’ She always called me Ceola, even when she was a little bit of a thing. Because my own mother was raising her, I guess she didn’t really see me as her mama. She said, ‘Ceola, it’s just so much easier for me to tell a story about someone else who’s in love, or in trouble, or in grief than it is for me to talk about my own love or trouble or grief. In the end it’s usually my story anyway.’ Like that time she was in love with that world-famous photographer. You were her friend then, weren’t you?”