missed a day.
One, two, three … “Grace, are you okay?” Biting her lip, Helen wondered if maybe Jacob was right, that she was a pathological busybody who needed a support group to teach her how to take twelve steps back instead of trying to solve everyone’s problems.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Teitelbaum,” Grace sniffed, trying to smile, but only managing to look like she had just returned from having dental surgery.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Helen looked up at the Warrens. She sensed that something very bad was happening, and she was suddenly afraid. On an episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show, some psychiatrist had once said it was very important to follow your instincts even if your brain said you were being silly, and Oprah was rarely wrong. Although she doubted that the Warrens were the types who would physically abuse their own child, Helen’s gut was telling her not to leave until she figured out what the fight was about. Sometimes these churchy types had weird ideas, and Helen would never forgive herself if a month later she heard on the news that Grace Warren had mysteriously disappeared or fallen down a flight of stairs.
“Not a thing, Mrs. Teitelbaum. You just caught us in the middle of a little family disagreement. Everything’s under control,” Brad called out from the porch, favoring Helen with a smile that belonged on a politician after a long night of campaigning — his lips turned up, but his eyes were gray ice. Now Helen was certain she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Are you sure? Do you want me to send George over with the truck? He could cart away all this garbage for you. It wouldn’t be any trouble.” Once she explained to George her concern for Grace’s safety, and that she was following Oprah’s advice, he wouldn’t be too annoyed that she’d offered his assistance when he already had more than enough to do mowing her lawn and hauling her grass clippings.
“We’re fine, Mrs. Teitelbaum. Can we help you with something else?” Brad took a step forward and waited, arms crossed menacingly, not above bullying a woman nearly twice his age.
“No, I guess that’s all for now.” Helen turned to Grace. “If you need anything, I’m right across the street.” Slowly walking away, turning to look back every few seconds, hoping that Grace would speak up, Helen reluctantly reached the end of the Warrens’s driveway and crossed the street. She looked at her watch. In a few hours she would come up with an excuse to check on things at the Warren household.
“I didn’t think we were ever going to get rid of her,” Betsy said.
“Bets, in twenty years of practicing law I’ve lost two cases, and they weren’t my fault. I certainly think I can handle a demented old bat with too much time on her hands.” Turning to Grace, Brad said, “Think about what we’ve said. When you’ve come to your senses, you can come back and we’ll take care of this mess properly. Otherwise, you’re on your own. You’ve made your bed, as it were, and now you will lie in it. Betsy, inside.”
Although Betsy was not someone who was accustomed to taking orders, she knew that she had failed to hold up her end, and now Brad was in charge. Refusing to meet Grace’s pleading eyes, Betsy stepped over a garbage bag and followed her husband into the house.
The front door slammed, and Grace was alone. She started to call Jennifer but remembered that she had gone away for the long weekend with her family. They wouldn’t be back until Monday night. Leaving the bags on the porch, Grace walked around the side of the house, hoping that her parents were watching her through the windows and that any minute they would run outside and throw their arms around her, apologizing for their temporary insanity brought on by the shock of Grace’s news, and vowing to work through this together. But after a few minutes considering this scenario, Grace nearly laughed out loud. The odds were better that Nick would show up in the next five minutes with a bouquet of roses and a diamond ring. Not knowing what else to do, Grace dragged a chaise longue across the backyard and behind the garden shed. No matter how shaken up she was, she could always take a nap.
A couple of hours later, Grace opened her eyes to find Mrs. Teitelbaum perched at the end of the chaise, quietly filing her nails. “Did you have a good sleep?” she asked.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was just checking on you. When I didn’t see you on the front porch, I knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so I walked around the back and there you were, sawing logs.”
“How long have I been asleep?” Grace sat up, her brain struggling to arrange the puzzle pieces of the morning. For a second or two, she wasn’t sure whether Dr. Ryder had been real or was just a figment of her hysterical imagination.
“It’s been a couple of hours since I dropped off that letter.” Helen cleared her throat. “I don’t want to pry, but might I ask what’s going on between you and your parents?” Remembering Jacob’s words, Helen added, “Of course, if you don’t want to talk about it ….”
“I did something very bad, and my parents are angry with me.” Telling this prim, angelic looking woman that she was having a baby would be like telling the pope that she was pregnant.
Helen’s eyes widened at the vague but ominous explanation. “So what’s in the bags?”
“All my clothes.”
“I’m getting on in years, so I may be a little slow, but why are your belongings in garbage bags on your front porch?” Slowly, patiently, Helen tried to ask the questions that would get her to the heart of the Warren family feud.
“I’m going to have a baby,” Grace whispered and started to cry, her shoulders shaking, all the tears saved up from the morning now flowing freely.
“Sweetheart,” Helen said reaching over and wrapping her birdlike arms around Grace’s quivering body, “it’s not the end of the world.
“Y-y-yes, it is,” Grace stammered. “They don’t love me anymore.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. It’s not like you just told them that you were a serial killer,” Helen said, knowing that this was no time for humor, but hoping she could stop, or at least slow, the torrent of tears.
“I’m not allowed to come home unless I have an abortion.” Unconsciously, Grace placed her hand protectively over her stomach.
Sure she must have misheard, or that Grace was so distraught she had confused the facts, Helen said, “But there was a picture on the front page of the paper of your parents at a pro-life rally last month.”
“Apparently there’s an exception to the rule when it’s your own daughter.”
Helen stifled a chuckle. Her sixth sense had been right. The Warrens were too good to be true.
“So, at least for the moment, you have nowhere to go?” Helen asked, still not letting go of Grace.
“No. My best friend, Jennifer, is away for the weekend.” Grace sniffled, and Helen handed her a tissue that had been tucked in her sleeve. “But I’m sure they’ll let me back in before it gets dark. They’re just trying to make a point.”
Not so sure that Grace’s eviction was just a gesture, Helen stood up and said, “Well, until your parents come to their senses, you’re coming home with me.”
Taking Grace’s hand, Helen led her around to the front of the house. “I’ll send George over to get your clothes.”
The front door flew open, and Brad stepped out onto the porch. He and Betsy had been watching through the windows, speculating on how long it would take Grace to fold, but now the elf in pink cashmere was back, seemingly determined to screw things up.
“Grace, where do you think you’re going?” At the sound of Brad’s harsh voice, Grace’s shoulders tensed and her heart started to pound.
“Mr. Warren, I’m taking Grace back to my house until you come to your senses.”
“You’re not taking my daughter anywhere,” Brad shouted. Betsy stood next to her husband, hands on her hips, saying nothing.
“It seems to me, Mr. Warren, that if you’ve thrown your daughter out of your home, out of your life, then it is really none of your business where I take her.” Helen mirrored Betsy’s hands-on-hips posture and
glared back. At five feet tall and barely a hundred pounds, Helen Teitelbaum was surprisingly fierce.
“Well, it is our business as you are trespassing on our property, and I’m one minute away from calling the police,” Brad said in his best lawyer voice.
Threatening people was one of his favorite activities. A former fatty who had never recovered from the merciless teasing he suffered at the hands of the kids who didn’t have to wear Huskies and never chose him for their team in kickball, he spent most of his adult life tormenting others, not so unconsciously trying to compensate for a childhood spent crouched against the chain link fence in the corner of the playground with a transistor radio and his best friend, Mr. Goodbar.
“You can’t intimidate me, Brad Warren. I survived the Nazis. My parents and my sister died in the camps. Family is precious, and there are many worse tragedies in this world than an unplanned pregnancy.” Not wanting to look at Betsy or Brad in case her bravado was more superficial than she hoped, Helen looked at Grace and nodded. When her mother had woken her at four o’clock that morning, Grace had imagined many scenarios, but this was not one of them. “Grace, come with me. ”
“This is really none of your business, Mrs. Teitelbaum. You need to go home. Our family issues are not your concern.” Betsy was furious and exhausted, once again being forced to defend her privacy, not quite able to believe what a day she was having. Since when did raising one’s children become a group effort? she wondered, silently cursing Hillary Clinton and her “it takes a village” crap. If Mrs. Teitelbaum had stayed out of it, Betsy was sure Grace would have backed down before dinnertime and come crawling back into the house, begging for forgiveness. She would have had the abortion, and all would be right with the world. But now Betsy didn’t know what was going to happen. She had never seen any grandchildren with Mrs. Teitelbaum, so the old cow was probably desperate to get her hands on a baby, by whatever means.
“But if Grace is no longer living here, what difference does it make to you where she goes?” Helen asked.
Brad pulled his phone out of his pocket and waved it over his head like a teenager at a rock concert. “Trespassing is a misdemeanor, Mrs. Teitelbaum.”
Helen wrinkled her nose and sniffed, as if she smelled something unpleasant, having trouble believing that these people could discard their own child as if she were yesterday’s trash. “I rode in a cattle car. I was at Auschwitz. You think you can frighten me by threatening to call the Silver Lake police department?” She turned away from Brad. “Grace, you look pale. Have you eaten anything today?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “Right now you need a good meal and a place to lie down.”
Grace realized that she hadn’t had a morsel of food since the night before and was in fact starving. As if the mention of a meal had triggered a ravenous appetite, Grace suddenly felt that if she didn’t eat something in the next five minutes, she would faint. “Thank you, Mrs. Teitelbaum.” Without looking at either of her parents, Grace took Mrs. Teitelbaum’s outstretched hand, and the unlikely pair walked down the driveway and disappeared behind the black iron gates across the street.
Betsy and Brad stood, speechless, surrounded by a sea of black plastic. That was not how it was supposed to go.
“How did that happen? I’ve a mind to ….” Brad firmly believed that Grace needed to learn a lesson, and there was no way she was going to do that if the meddlesome neighbor, who lived in a multimillion-dollar home with a guest house and swimming pool, swooped in to rescue her before she had experienced a moment of discomfort. As Brad understood it, unless Grace faced the logical consequences of her actions, how would she ever grow up? Drinking iced tea while relaxing by a pool was not conducive to introspection and thoughts of remorse.
“To do what, Brad? We kicked Grace out. We have no control over where she goes.” Betsy, her shoulders sagging, was beginning to regret their power play.
They would just have to wait it out. What could they possibly say if they marched over there now? They would only look weak and inconsistent, and the first rule of parenting was to look like you were in charge and knew what you were doing, even when you didn’t … and always, always stick to your guns.
Brad stepped over a bag and opened the front door. “I just hope that houseman picks up these bags this afternoon.” Relieved that the drama was over, at least for now, Brad kicked at a bag, sending it tumbling down the front steps, and returned to the comparative peace of his study. Although he had stayed home from work to support Betsy, he had been too distracted to put together a coherent sentence in the brief he was working on. Now his mind was clear. “Let that do-gooder Teitelbaum deal with Grace’s mess if she wants to,” he muttered to himself.
With loads of time and money and no one to spend it on, Mrs. Teitelbaum was the perfect person to step into the breach. He definitely wasn’t up to the task. Part of him realized that this was not a shining moment in his career as a father, but the thought of Grace doing wicked things with some boy made him hate her. She was his baby, and now she was ruined, and he couldn’t imagine ever getting over it. Although he realized on some level that he might be overreacting — Grace was nearly eighteen, and he couldn’t expect her to remain a child her whole life, as much as he’d like her to — his need to separate himself from the source of his uncontrollable, irrational fury trumped any sense of parental attachment he might have.
CHAPTER 6
Although Grace had said hello to Mrs. Teitelbaum nearly every day since the latter had moved into the giant stone house across the street, Grace knew practically nothing about her, other than that she looked like an apple doll in an endless array of pastel cashmere cardigans. Beyond diminutive, Mrs. Teitelbaum favored crisp white blouses and pearls; a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses always hung from a chain around her neck. Based on the way she dressed, Grace had assumed Mrs. T. was a retired spinster librarian, although a slight accent, vaguely European, suggested more exotic origins, and of course her house was not what you would expect a librarian to live in. It was massive, surrounded by an acre of lush gardens, a huge black wrought iron fence, eight-foot hedges, and even a small fruit orchard. Grace figured her neighbor must have an unusual back-story, but nothing about her manner had suggested that Mrs. Teitelbaum had spent part of her childhood in a World War II concentration camp.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Even as she said it, Helen realized this was a stupid question. How could the poor child be okay? Opening the oversized mahogany front door, Helen called out, “George, where are you? Could you come here for a minute?”
A tall, slender older man in rumpled chinos and a blue work shirt appeared, carrying a toolbox. “I’m right here, Mrs. T. I was just going to fix the squeak in that door upstairs. Do you need me to do something else first?”
“Yes, George, if you could. This is Grace Warren, from across the street. She and her parents have had a, um, falling out … and she’s going to be staying with us for a while.”
George dipped his head slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grace.”
“You too,” Grace said. She wasn’t sure whether she should shake hands, so she just nodded in return.
“Anyway, George, could you run across the street and get Grace’s things? You’ll find them on the front porch in black plastic garbage bags. I think there are six of them; you should probably take the golf cart so you can get everything in one trip.”
“Garbage bags?” George asked, and Helen nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll be back in a flash. Where should I put them?”
George was curious about this girl’s sudden appearance as well as her unusual luggage, but it didn’t seem like the right moment to ask questions, and it would all come out in good time. His employer was always bringing home strays, although they usually had four legs.
“Let’s see, how about the blue bedroom. It’s close to mine, in case you need something in the night, and it has a lovely view of the back garden.” Helen’s eyes sparkled. She got such a natural high when sh
e rescued someone from a bad situation, and she did feel so sorry for this poor little thing. She decided to wait a while before she told Jacob about her latest project. “Come upstairs, sweetheart. I’m going to run you a hot bath and bring you something to eat. There’s nothing quite so relaxing as soaking in a warm tub, drinking tea, and eating tiny sandwiches and scones. How does that sound?” One arm around Grace’s waist, Helen escorted her new charge up the wide, winding staircase.
“It sounds perfect. Thank you. You really don’t have to go to so much trouble for me.” A few minutes ago she was a homeless, pregnant teenager, and now she was headed up to a warm bath and a cup of hot tea in a house that could hold three of her own.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Helen insisted, worried that she was enjoying herself too much when this child had just been abandoned by her parents and was facing the most difficult time of her very short life.
“My mom and dad are just really angry. I’m sorry they were so rude to you. They’re not usually like that.” Apologizing for her mother for the second time that day, Grace was embarrassed at her parents’ outburst in front of a virtual stranger, and as hurt as she was, she didn’t want this woman to think terrible things about them. No matter what they said or what they did, they were still her parents and she loved them.
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