“I don’t know what to do, Ellen. If I go to Maine, I’ll be giving in to the old insane need for Mother’s approval. If I don’t, I’ll risk alienating her forever.”
Ellen nodded her own approval, which was, in part, what Leah had come for. “That seems to sum it up. You do have a grip on the situation, Leah.”
I should after all this time, don’t you think? Yes, I want her approval—I’ve always wanted it—and yes, I’m aware that I do, but that doesn’t make it go away. Hence, the dilemma. I mean, Mother isn’t inviting me there to fawn over me. Sure, she says she wants to spend time with me, but I think she says that because she knows it’s the one thing that would get me there, but when push comes to shove, she doesn’t really need me there.”
“Perhaps, given her health problems and your knowledge of them, she feels more comfortable with you around.”
“But she’s fine, now. The doctor said so. It was really a false alarm that got blown out of proportion by her own fear, which she kept firmly locked inside and denies to this day. And her housekeeper will be with her—Gwen does everything—not to mention the movers, who’ll have the unpacking all done, and whatever other hired help the place comes with. So I’m flattered. But skeptical.”
Ellen grew thoughtful. “Why do you think she wrote, rather than called?”
“Cowardice. She thought I’d refuse, so she wrote and sent the tickets to give it the feeling of a done deed. Either that,” Leah added, “or it’s sheer gall, a command performance. I can’t decide which.”
“Does one make you feel better about going than the other?”
“Neither makes me feel terribly good. I like being here. I’m used to being here. I know the people here, and they know me.”
Ellen heard all that Leah hadn’t said. “There will be new people in Maine.”
“I’m not good with new people.”
“But you’re bored here.”
“Bored, but comfortable. Besides, seeing Mother makes me angry. She’s always so perfectly calm and composed. Even during the heart business, it was like she was resigned to her fate. Okay, so she was suppressing her fear, but I swear that deep down I was still more scared than she was. I half think that’s why she wanted me along—to express the emotion she couldn’t, so that the doctors and nurses would think she was being calm for my sake and, hence, normal. She’s a tough lady. And ballsy.” Leah couldn’t help it, the venom escaped. “I mean, if she wants to relocate in her old age, that’s fine, but she has some nerve asking me to take two weeks out of my life to help her do it. She never took two weeks out for me, not even that summer when I was so sick.”
Leah had been fifteen and bulimic in the days before bulimia was in style. After collapsing one day, she was rushed to the hospital, where she had remained for a month. Virginia had been oblivious to any problem in the days preceding the collapse, and in the days after, she had been attentive—but not so much that her normal routine had been upset. She hadn’t missed one round of the golf tournament in which she had been competing at the time.
“Did you ever discuss that when you were together last year?” Ellen asked.
“No. It wasn’t the appropriate time for me to be angry with her. I wanted to be supportive and helpful.”
“Everything she never was, and in that, your revenge?”
Leah made a face. “Something like that. Not that it worked. Mother isn’t the intuitive type. My motives went right over her head—and they will this time, too, if I go to Maine. I shouldn’t go. Really I shouldn’t. I should mail the tickets right back to her with a polite thanks but no thanks. I should tell her that I just can’t spare the time.” She wanted to do that in the very worst way, but the bald truth was that she had the time. She had those two weeks and more. Unless she decided to redo the kitchen. Or take a trip. It would serve Virginia right, if Leah were to turn her down flat.
Despairingly, she faced Ellen. “But I won’t do that, will I? I’ll go there for those two weeks, even though I don’t know a soul there, and I’ll play the dutiful daughter, even though she won’t begin to appreciate it.”
“She may, Leah. She’s approaching a milestone of a birthday. That might be having an effect on her. You may be surprised.”
“That would be nice. I suppose it’s one reason for going.”
“Give me another.”
“She’s my mother.”
“And another.”
“She asked me, not Caroline or Annette.”
“And another.”
“She’s almost seventy and could die tomorrow and leave me feeling guilty for the rest of my life, and when all is said and done, I want her approval. This may be my last chance.” Last chance. A heavy thought. “She says she wants to spend time with me. She says she wants to talk. It’s what I’ve always wanted. How can I say no?” She tried to think of a way, but couldn’t. “That’s it in a nutshell, I guess. I don’t want to go. But I can’t not go.” She rose from the sofa.
Ellen walked her to the door. “There’s more, Leah. The thing about being with new people—you can handle it. You’ll prove to yourself that you can. And more—you’re still not into thinking as highly of yourself as you should, but the fact is that you’ll go to Maine because you’re a good person. You really are. You’re not like your mother one bit. You care, and you aren’t afraid to let it show. That’s healthy.”
“Yeah, and at the end of the two weeks, when she smiles and pats me on the head and sends me home like she’s always done in the past, what then?”
“Then you’ll know you’ve tried your best and have nothing to regret. You’ll have had a two-week vacation, you’ll have survived in a new environment, and you’ll be back here with nothing lost. Your eyes are open, Leah. You know what to expect and what not to expect. You’ll do just fine.”
In the weeks that followed, Leah clung to that thought, even as she tried to find a compelling reason not to use the tickets Virginia had sent.
She called Susie MacMillan, whose third husband was a former ambassador with ongoing ties to the diplomatic corps. They were mainstays at Leah’s parties. “Hi, Susie. It’s Leah. How are you?”
“On my way out the door,” Susie said breathlessly. “Mac and I are heading for dinner at the embassy, then taking off for Newport.”
“I was thinking of throwing something wonderful at the end of the month,” Leah tried. “Will you be back?”
“Barely. Better count us out, Leah. Maybe another time.”
Leah tried Jill Prince. She and Jill worked Cancer Society functions together. Jill’s husband was the head of a prominent Washington think tank. “Hi, Jill. It’s Leah. What’s doing?”
“God, Leah, life is hectic. The kids are finishing up the school year, so there are cookouts, banquets, recitals, you name it, and in the middle of it all, I’m trying to get them ready for camp. What’s doing with you?”
“Not much. I thought maybe we could do lunch next week.”
Jill sighed. “I can’t, Leah. I can’t plan anything until the kids are gone, and once we drop them at camp, we’re continuing on to Quebec. Maybe when I get back?”
Leah tried Monica Savins. Monica didn’t have a husband or kids. But she did have boyfriends. “I’d love driving out to the spa with you, Leah, but it’s not a good time.” Her voice grew confidential. “I’m seeing Phillip Dorian.” When Leah didn’t immediately react, she said, “He’s with the National Symphony? Plays violin? He has the most incredible hands.” She sucked in a breath and let it out in a rapturous sigh. “Another time. Gotta go, now. Howard’s taking me to lunch. You know Howard. He’s with CNN.” Her voice lowered again. “Howard doesn’t know about Phillip, and I’m trying to keep it that way. You won’t breathe a word to anyone, will you?”
Leah promised that she wouldn’t, and it was a promise that was easy enough to keep, given that Monica’s social life embarrassed her. Besides, she had her own agenda. She called a handful of other friends, but those two weeks in June were shap
ing up to be a total void where social happenings were concerned. People were either traveling, or moving to summer homes, or visiting friends.
Leah, on the other hand, would be in steamy Washington with no one but the censorious ghost of her mother, unless she flew to Maine.
Some things seemed preordained. This was one.
Besides, her life was stalled. It struck her that Virginia might be the unfinished business that prevented her from moving on.
And she did want to move on. Truly. Quickly. Desperately.
four
CAROLINE WAS HOPING THAT ENGINE TROUBLE might force a cancellation of her flight. When that didn’t happen and her plane took off on time, she hung her hopes on the possibility that air traffic or fog would cause a delay or, better still, force a landing in an airport other than Portland. She would happily set herself up in a hotel room in Boston, Providence, or Hartford, and, using the computer notebook she had with her and a rented fax machine, work nearly as productively as if she were in her Chicago office.
To her consternation, the plane touched down at the Portland Jetport quietly, smoothly, and five minutes early. Moreover, the one small bag she had brought—that she might have easily carried on board but had checked, daring the airline to lose it—was one of the first to appear on the carousel.
She hoisted it to her shoulder. The briefcase that held her files and the computer was heavier. Gripping it firmly, she crossed to the nearest phone bank and called the office.
“Hi, Janice,” she said to her secretary. “I’m in Portland. Just wanted to find out what’s doing there.”
Janice was ten years older than Caroline, a whiz of a legal secretary, and annoyingly intuitive. “Not much since you called from O’Hare,” she chided. “Timothy’s still working on Westmore and Beth on Lundt.”
Timothy and Beth were the associates Caroline shared with Doug. She had left both with mounds of work to do in her absence.
“Have there been any calls?” Caroline asked.
“No. We told everyone that you were going away.”
“Mmm. Well. If anyone does call, you know where to reach me, don’t you?”
“I have your mother’s number right here.”
Caroline checked her watch. “It’s just about two. I’ll be leaving as soon as the driver from Downlee arrives.” She had a clear view of the taxi stand and saw nothing resembling the wood-paneled station wagon Virginia had described. “We’ll be driving for two hours. It’s too much to hope that there’ll be a phone in the car, so if you need me during that time, leave a message at Star’s End. I’ll check back with you as soon as I get there. Is Doug around?”
“Hold on.”
Doug came on the line a minute later. “Long time no see.”
“I just want you to know,” Caroline announced, “that I may be out of state, but I’m far from out of touch.”
“Your mother’s number hasn’t moved from where you plastered it yesterday.”
“Good. Be sure to call if anything comes up. This is a working vacation—working being the operative word. I have notes enough with me to do the Baretta brief, but if I’m needed there, I can be back in a matter of hours.”
“Everything’s under control,” Doug said.
That was what she feared. “Even if it’s something small, don’t hesitate to call.”
“Caroline.”
“I’m going. Just remember. I’m here.” She hung up the phone, before adding under her breath, “To my everlasting dismay.” She scanned the taxi stand but still saw no wood-sided wagon. So she picked up the phone again.
“Hi,” she sighed moments later. The sound of Ben’s voice, even the briefest hello, was a balm.
“Hey, babe. Are you there already?”
“I’m in Portland waiting for the damn taxi. This was a mistake, Ben. I shouldn’t be here. Why did I let you convince me to come?”
“You didn’t. You were the one who sat here the other night listing the reasons you were going.”
“And you let me. You didn’t argue. You let me go without a peep. You should have stopped me, Ben. You knew I didn’t want to go.”
“I also knew that you’d never forgive yourself if you hadn’t. Come on. It won’t be so bad.”
“Fine for you to say,” she grumbled. “You’re not the one who’s missing God-only-knows-what in the office for two weeks.”
“So you brought work with you. Just think. You’ll be able to do it all while you sit on the beach.”
“I don’t think there is a beach. This is Maine. I think it’s all rocks.”
“Then you’ll sit at the pool. That’s even better. You won’t get sand in your briefs.” He chuckled.
“Hah, hah.”
“Seriously. You’ll work and relax. The change of scenery will do you good. Just think. No snide words from your partners, no seductive ones from me.”
“I like your seductive ones. That’s why I invited you to come along.” She had thought it a brainstorm. Ben hadn’t.
“You invited me to come along because you wanted a buffer. But your mother didn’t invite me. She invited you. You need to do this, babe.”
“What I need to do,” Caroline said, “is have a cigarette. So help me, if that taxi isn’t here in five minutes I’m buying a pack.”
“No, you’re not.”
“If this is a sample of Maine-style service, I may last all of two days.”
“Like you never have to wait for things in Chicago.”
“I always have to wait for things, but at least the things I’m waiting for are of my own choosing. This isn’t. It would have been easier if I’d simply rented a car and driven myself. But Ginny said someone would be here to meet me. I’ve been waiting now for twenty minutes.”
“That’s not very long.”
“It’s long enough for everyone else from my plane to have picked up their luggage and left. The people I’m looking at now are from a later plane.” She studied them. “What a weird group.”
“Weird how?”
“Motley. All ages, all sizes, all styles. There are even—hard to believe, but true—men wearing business suits.” She focused on the electronic board behind the carousel. “From St. Louis via Boston. That explains it. Almost.” She caught her breath. “Oh, God.”
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a woman who looks like my sister, but it can’t be. Mother didn’t say anything about inviting Annette.”
“Is it her?”
“I can’t tell. Her back is to me now. The hair’s the same—dark and shoulder length—but for all I know Annette’s had hers cut and colored since I saw her last. She always wanted to be a blonde.”
“Is it Annette?”
“I can’t tell. It could be. She’s wearing walking shorts and a blouse. Very tailored, like Annette. But it can’t be her,” Caroline decided. “It’s the power of suggestion, what with that plane having come from St. Louis and me being in my nightmare mode. Ginny wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Did she specifically say you were the only one coming?”
“No. But she implied it. She kept referring to me in the singular.”
The woman by the carousel glanced at her watch, then glanced back, full face, toward the bank of phones where Caroline stood.
Caroline turned away, praying she hadn’t been seen. She needed time to gather her wits. “If it isn’t her,” she told Ben, “it’s a clone. God damn it, Mother screwed me. God damn it, Ben.”
“Relax, honey. It isn’t that bad.”
But Caroline was furious. “She deliberately misled me, because she knew that if I thought either of the others would be here, I wouldn’t come. The draw was that she invited me and not them. But if she has Annette here, she doesn’t need me. I’d much prefer to be back in the office. This is an incredible imposition. I have a career.”
“Your career will be here when you get back.”
“I have an important career. If one of my clients gets into trouble, I ha
ve to be there.”
“Your partners will cover for you. That’s why you’re in a firm. Your clients will do just fine without you.”
“Thanks a lot.”
He sighed. “Come on, Caroline. You know what I mean.”
“I sure do. You’ve said it enough in the last few weeks. I’m just another swelled-headed lawyer who is, in the final analysis, expendable.”
“That’s what you hear, not what I say. I say that you mean the world to your clients, but that their needs aren’t the be-all and end-all in life. They don’t own you. You have a right to take off once in a while. You deserve a break.”
“If I wanted a break, I’d go somewhere good. I wouldn’t choose to be with Ginny.” She lowered her voice. “Or with Annette. Why in the world did she invite Annette?”
“She may have thought Annette needed a break from the kids.”
“It’s manipulation. Pure and simple. A power struggle. A struggle for control. Ginny wants us together so she gets us together. She pretends that we all get along. She refuses to see that we have nothing in common.”
“You have her in common.”
Caroline snorted. “That’s about it.”
“But that’s why you’re there. Think about it. You’re there because she’s your mother and because she asked. So she invited one of your sisters.”
Caroline had a terrible thought. “What if she invited both? What if it’s a fucking family reunion?”
“That wouldn’t change your basic reason for going.”
Caroline didn’t like the idea of a family reunion at all. “Maybe I’m wrong,” she said. “Maybe it isn’t Annette after all.” She shot another look toward the carousel. The object of her scrutiny was studying her watch, then heading straight for the phone bank at which Caroline stood.
All hope fled. She whirled away, muttering to Ben, “It is Annette. No mistaking it. The perfect little mother. The perfect little wife. She and I have nothing in common.”
“So she’ll sit by the pool while you climb on the rocks.”
“You’re missing the point,” Caroline whispered insistently. She peered out. Annette was using the booth four down from hers. “The point is that Mother should have been straightforward. She should have told me exactly what she had planned.”
For My Daughters Page 5
