I intended to tell Mom about Aaron’s offer as soon as I returned home Sunday afternoon, but I heard her talking and quickly realized she was on the phone. Now, I was no eavesdropper, but when I heard my name mentioned I naturally stood outside the bedroom door to hear what she was saying about me. “Oh, he’s just wonderful. He has such elegance about him. He reminds me of a black Cary Grant.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth from turning up. Obviously Mom was talking about Aaron.
“And I tell you, he’s just crazy about Emily…. Oh, of course it’s serious. I mean, it’s too early to talk about marriage, of course, but Aaron does seem to be the type who likes to be settled.” A pause, then, “Isn’t that just like my daughter. She met him just a few days after she got into town, you know. Who else but my Emily could snag the most eligible bachelor in the county so quickly?”
I moved into the doorway and discreetly cleared my throat. Mom looked up guiltily. “Dear, I really have to go. Emily just came in. Why don’t I call you back?” She paused, then laughed at something the other party said. “Yes, I’ll be sure to let you know if Aaron proposes. Bye-bye, now!”
I groaned as she hung up the phone. “Proposes? Mom!”
“Well, can I help it if my friends enjoy hearing about your romance? It reminds all of us of our first love. So what if we’re living vicariously through you.”
“Mom, I’m past forty and divorced. Aaron is hardly my first love.”
“Love is love, Emily. It doesn’t matter how old you are.”
“And what’s all this talk about love, anyway?” I said rather testily. “Just because Aaron says he loves me doesn’t mean I automatically feel the same way.” In my annoyance I’d spoken without thinking.
Mom lit up like a theater marquee on opening night, and I knew what she was about to say before she even opened her mouth.
“Emily! He’s in love with you? Oh, how wonderful!”
I held my hand palm out. “Hold everything. Do not mail the wedding invitations yet. As I said, the feeling isn’t necessarily mutual.”
“But Emmie, I don’t understand. Now, I know I taught you to have high standards, but, my dear, don’t you realize Barack Obama is taken? Besides, Aaron’s much better looking than he is.”
My mind quickly searched for a way to express my thoughts. I could hardly tell my mother the real reason for rejecting Aaron. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable, yet my instincts told me it would be a good thing to keep her talking as long as possible. The minute I left she’d probably pick up the phone, call another one of her friends, and this time fill them in on Aaron’s very private feelings.
Which raised a question in my mind. “Who were you talking to on the phone just now, anyway?”
“Helen Brown.”
My jaw dropped. “Mom! Didn’t you say Mrs. Brown’s teenage granddaughter is having a baby? And isn’t that Joanne’s daughter?”
“Well, yes. But what does that have to do with you and Aaron?”
“For one thing, Joanne Brown’s marriage broke up years ago, and her ex has moved to another state and hardly ever sees their daughter. Two, everybody knows that Joanne does nothing but chase men. It’s no wonder her daughter got knocked up, if her behavior is any example. And you’re bragging to Helen about how your daughter snagged a doctor the moment she got back into town?” The tone of my voice stretched upward in incredulity. “Mom, not only is it inconsiderate for you to say that, it’s…not right,” I concluded after being unable to think of a stronger phrase. “How’s Mrs. Brown supposed to feel?”
“Like she wishes that could have been her daughter. And trust me, if it were, I would be hearing about it at every card game plus at every conversation.”
I shook my head. Mrs. Brown was the sub at the bid whist games, filling in when one of the regulars couldn’t play. I just didn’t understand the strange way my mother and her so-called friends treated each other. I thought that type of cattiness was reserved for society ladies.
“There hasn’t been this much gossip since Valerie Woods was dating that criminal attorney a few years back,” Mom continued. “Usually Winnie never talks about Valerie, but she certainly had a lot to say when it looked like they were getting serious. She went on and on about it. When she stopped all of a sudden we all knew that meant it was over. Of course, it was Mavis who told the rest of us on the sly that they’d broken up, so Winnie wouldn’t have to address the matter.”
Feeling defeated, I shrugged my shoulders. “All right, Mom. Have it your way. But there’s something I must insist on.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to promise me that you won’t say a word to any of your friends about Aaron’s feelings for me. I shouldn’t have told you. It just slipped out, but it was something he said to me, not to me and you, and certainly not to me, you, and your girlfriends. The last thing I need is for Tanis to get wind of it. She’s after him, you know, and she’s like a dirty politician. She’ll use any means necessary to cause problems between Aaron and me so she can take over.”
“Well, Emmie, you have to consider the possibility. I mean, if you don’t want him…It’s no fun being in love all by yourself.”
“Point taken, Mom.”
“You’re a sweet girl. You really deserve to be with someone special, have someone to share your life with.” She sighed. “Sometimes I really worry about you girls. Not just you, but girls Sasha’s age,” she said, referring to Sonny’s youngest. “Even that sweet little Jasmine upstairs.”
I averted my eyes. I knew all about little Jasmine. She’d come into Dr. Norman’s office a couple of weeks ago, and I’d treated her for crabs. I can still hear her gasping in shock when I came into the room, immediately bursting into tears and begging me not to tell her parents. I explained that I was bound by practitioner-patient privilege, and that anything she said to me could not and would not be repeated to anyone.
I did issue a strong warning to her regarding her sexual behavior and recklessness in not practicing safe sex, which I suspected she would ignore. When you’re sixteen, you think that all the bad stuff happens to other people, not to you, and that the little incident that happens to you will be cured. But Mom thought she was the sweetest young thing. I hoped I wouldn’t be so easily fooled when I was Mom’s age.
“I know Tanis would love to take Aaron from you,” Mom said now. “You should see Mavis at our card games. When I drop little tidbits about you and Aaron, I’m waiting for her to pull out a notebook and take notes so she can tell Tanis all about it.”
“Really?” My eyes narrowed. “You aren’t telling her anything she shouldn’t know, are you?”
“No, just bits and pieces, like where Aaron has taken you, the name of the restaurant you ate at, the name of the Broadway show you saw, things like that. Her eyes bug out. You should see her. She looks like she’s got a thyroid condition.”
As much as I enjoyed visualizing the amusing picture Mom just painted, I held off telling Mom about the apartment. I didn’t want her calling all her friends with the news before it was decided upon, and we hadn’t even seen the place yet. I’d take her for a ride tomorrow after church, and I’d tell her about it on the way.
Mom was using the bathroom when the phone rang, so I answered it. My sister was calling. “Oh, hi, Cissy.”
“How’s it going? I heard your big news.”
I blinked. “My big news?”
“That you landed the big dog.”
“Cissy, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Aaron, silly. Mom told me he’s made a declaration.”
I sighed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I told her to keep that quiet. It wasn’t intended to be broadcast.”
“I haven’t said anything to anyone about it. But Mom was concerned. She said you’re holding back. What’s up?”
“Quite frankly, Cissy, that’s none of your business.”
The silence that followed reflected my sister’s hurt feel
ings.
“I’m sorry,” I said gently. “It’s just that I need to keep some details of my private life private.”
“Yes, of course you do. Is Mom around? I forgot to tell her something when we talked earlier.”
Chapter 20
I drove Mom over to see the apartment that afternoon. She’d never been to Aaron’s house before, and she gaped at the impressive tan stucco-and-stone mansion behind the tall locking gates. “My God! He really has money, doesn’t he, Emmie?”
“Oh, I’d say he’s done pretty well for himself.” In spite of my amusement, I understood her awe. It was one thing to know in the back of one’s mind that a person had money. It was another to actually see it. Visualizing Aaron’s house was just as good as seeing his latest bank statement.
I felt a little uneasy as I rang the doorbell. I hadn’t seen Beverline Wilson since the Fourth of July weekend in Sag Harbor. She’d disliked me from the time of our very first encounter, and time had likely done nothing to change her opinion. I wish I could have been the proverbial fly on the wall to see her reaction when Aaron told her he planned to rent the guest house to my mother and me.
I cheered up when the housekeeper answered the door. I’d met Shirley Whitman when she came to work one day before I left Aaron’s. Shirley was a sweet woman, but she would make a lousy poker player. She hadn’t been able to conceal her shock at seeing me. I was fully dressed at the time, but there is only one conclusion one could come to when a man has female company at eight in the morning.
I was happy to see her. Maybe Mom and I could tour the apartment without having to see Beverline or the kids at all. “Hello, Shirley.”
“Hello, Miss Yancy. The doctor said he was expecting you and your mother.” Shirley was an attractive brown-skinned woman in her late fifties who always wore khaki pants and a white blouse—maybe the twenty-first-century version of a housekeeper’s uniform? She smiled at Mom. “You must be Mrs. Yancy. Welcome.”
Shirley was her usual pleasant self, but I always felt a little…well, overprivileged at having her address me so formally. The woman was, after all, older than I, probably by a good fifteen years. It made me uncomfortably aware of class differences. Not that I considered myself better than anyone else. The cold, hard fact was that Shirley worked for Aaron, while I claimed the status of being a friend and lover to him. This was the way protocol declared things should be.
“If you’ll make yourselves comfortable, I’ll let Dr. Merritt know you’re here,” Shirley said.
I glanced at Mom, and the way she held her own made me proud. She managed to look like she was accustomed to being in such elegant households. She whispered to me as we walked inside, “I thought his house would be like Cissy’s or Sonny’s. But this is like a castle. Look at the size of this foyer!”
Mom tended to make presumptions that everyone’s experiences matched hers, which translates to the rather narrow belief that everyone’s house must be like those of her children. I knew better, although I haven’t gotten so jaded that I’ve forgotten my own astonishment the first time I saw Aaron’s home. An image of Marsha’s wistful expression flashed through my mind. Is this how she’d felt when she’d left Sherwood Forest so many years ago to marry that drug dealer? Her house across the Hudson in Englewood Cliffs was probably even more grand than Aaron’s abode. God, it must have killed her to have to return to the projects, even if her mother’s apartment had beautiful furnishings and a plasma TV within its cinder-block walls, courtesy of Marsha’s late husband.
I’d been holding Mom’s arm, and I almost tripped when she stopped dead in her tracks in front of the portrait of Aaron’s late wife. “Who’s that?”
“That’s my daughter.”
I knew who the proud voice belonged to before I turned around. I did turn, and there she stood, about six steps from the landing, wearing a black sweater and black pants, her hands clasped in front of her and her gray hair brushed back, looking creepily like a black version of Mrs. Danvers from the movie Rebecca. Not a bad analogy, considering I felt as welcome here as the second Mrs. de Winter.
“Hello, Mrs. Wilson,” I said with as much pleasantness as I could muster. “This is my mother, Ruby Yancy. Mom, this is Aaron’s mother-in-law, Beverline Wilson.”
“I’m glad to know you, Mrs. Wilson,” my mother said in a tone she would use to teach Sunday school.
“Likewise, Mrs. Yancy.” Beverline’s eyes returned to the portrait. “That’s my daughter, Diana. Aaron’s wife.” She spoke in an offhand manner that suggested Diana was at the hair-dresser and would be back momentarily.
Mom didn’t let me down. “Well, that would certainly make you his mother-in-law,” she said brightly.
Beverline’s smile faded like a once vivid memory. She walked down the remaining stairs and said, “Aaron tells me you may be renting our guest house.”
She said “our” like her name was on the deed to Aaron’s property, which I sincerely doubted.
“That’s right,” Mom replied.
She responded with a weak smile as Aaron entered the room and rushed toward me. “I was downstairs bowling with Billy. Shirley just told me you were here.” He kissed me on the mouth, and I could have sworn I saw Beverline flinch out of the corner of my eye.
Aaron moved from me to Mom. “Mrs. Yancy, good to see you,” he said, wrapping her in a warm hug.
“Aaron, you have a beautiful home. Did I hear you say you have a bowling alley in your basement?”
“Well, thank you. And yes, I do. Just two lanes, though.”
Mom flashed me a “whatever-you-do-don’t-let-this-man-get-away” look.
“Diana decorated it,” Beverline said proudly. “She did it alone, too. No help from a decorator.”
“That’s right, she did,” Aaron said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Well, she certainly has…er, had excellent taste.” Mom looked distressed at her gaffe, then said sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I seem to be tripping over my tongue today.”
I couldn’t fault her for her mistake, not with Beverline making it sound like Diana would come strolling through the front door at any moment.
We heard footsteps running down the Southwestern motif–tiled hall, and Billy appeared. He ran over to me and greeted me with a hug. “Hi, Emily!”
“Hi, Billy. It’s good to see you. It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it has. Daddy and I were bowling. You gonna play with us?”
“I’m afraid Emily came for something else, Billy,” Aaron said.
The disappointment in Billy’s eyes was genuine, much to my delight.
“Billy, we have another guest,” Aaron continued. “Emily’s mother is here. Her name is Mrs. Yancy. Mrs. Yancy, this is my son, Billy.”
“Hi!” Billy said.
“Hello, Billy.”
“Billy, you have better manners than that,” Beverline chided. “It’s ‘Hello, Mrs. Yancy.’”
“Hello, Mrs. Yancy,” Billy said so obediently that I couldn’t suppress a chuckle. He turned to Aaron. “I guess y’all are gonna be talkin’ about grown-up stuff.”
“Yes, Billy. Why don’t you go down and finish the game? We’ll pick it up later, okay?”
“Okay. But I’m gonna go upstairs for a minute first.” He bounded up the stairs.
“What a charming boy,” Mom remarked. “By the time junior high rolls around, the girls will be calling for him all the time.”
“Are you kidding? He’s getting calls now, and he’s only in third grade,” Aaron said.
“He’s the spitting image of Diana,” Beverline piped up, confirming my belief that she would mention her deceased daughter at every opportunity. It had already gotten old. Especially since Billy looked more like Aaron.
Mom was cool about it. “Yes, I see the resemblance.”
Aaron draped one arm around my shoulders, the other around Mom. “Well, why don’t we take a look at the apartment?” he suggested.
I hoped Beverline woul
d find something else to do, but the next thing I knew, she had her coat on and was trailing us like a suspicious store detective.
We crossed the driveway to the garage, which had an enclosed staircase at the far end.
“I hope the stairs won’t be a detriment for you, Mrs. Yancy,” he said apologetically.
“Oh, I’m sure I can manage.”
Beverline spoke up. “You do realize it has only one bedroom. So I’m sure it’s smaller than what you have now.”
I felt pretty sure she already knew my mother had a one-bedroom apartment. “Actually, my mother’s apartment has just one bedroom,” I said politely.
“Good heavens, Emily, where do you sleep?”
“Beverline,” Aaron said, caution in his tone.
Mom jumped into the breach. “You see, Mrs. Wilson, I’m fortunate to have devoted children. None of them live in Westchester, but my son and older daughter both wanted me to come live with them. My Emmie had a life of her own in Indiana, including owning a lovely townhome, but she put everything on hold to make sure I was taken care of after my husband passed away. But then again, that’s what families do in times of loss.”
“We understand perfectly, Mrs. Yancy,” Aaron said. “Beverline was good enough to come and live with the kids and me while Diana was ill, and she stayed on to help out.”
“Well, that was a little different, dear,” Beverline pointed out. “I came to live with you, not the other way around.”
Only with supreme self-control did I not say that it wouldn’t have been practical for Aaron and his children to move to Camden.
“Who moved in with whom isn’t the point,” Aaron said calmly. “Mrs. Yancy was making the point that families stick together in times of need.” He turned and inserted his key in the door. “Let’s go in.” He held the door open for us to walk through.
A New Kind of Bliss Page 19
