Housa tossed back a glossy lock of dark hair that had fallen across her forehead. "Well, I figured if people celebrated my birthday for days on end I'd be pretty pleased, too."
Beth laughed. "From now on, whenever I see fireflies, I'll think of your fairy queen."
"Clara thinks she's real," Daisy said, scornful as only an older sister can be.
"Are you sure about that. Daisy? There's nothing wrong with playing pretend, you know."
Daisy squinched up her narrow shoulders. "Yeah, I guess so.”
"When I was a little girl, we used to—" Beth stopped abruptly. She had been going to say that she and her friends used to stick fireflies under the tin rings packed as prizes in cereal boxes and pretend they were set with diamonds, but knowing how Housa felt about animal rights, she decided not to risk any insensitive-sounding remarks about insects.
"Used to what, Grammy?"
"We used to sing a song your great-grandmother taught us. It was called "The Glowworm." That's what they used to call fireflies in her day."
Daisy shuddered. "Worms. Yeeks."
"My parents called them lightning bugs," Housa volunteered.
They all agreed that fireflies was best.
As his mother, wife and daughter talked, Andy put Clara and Jamie to bed. Jamie, who had fallen asleep halfway through dinner, was none the wiser. Clara, trailing behind, expressed her resentment at being treated like a baby in clear piping tones.
"She'll be asleep almost before her head hits the pillow," Housa whispered to Beth.
Daisy yawned. "I think I'll go, too, Mom. It's been a long day."
She sounds like a tired businessman, Beth thought, fighting back a smile. She offered her cheek for a sleepy kiss. "Night, darling."
Andy met his eldest child on his way down. "Are all my chickadees deserting the nest?"
"Oh, Daddy,' Daisy scoffed. "Mom and Grammy are still there."
He heaved an elaborate sigh. "Then I guess I'll have to settle for them. Gimme a kiss."
Andy entered the living room a moment later.
"So we're second best, huh?" Housa said.
He grinned. "It's not always easy playing at paterfamilias.”
Andy shooed Fuzzy out of the lounge chair across from the couch, settled his rangy frame into it and propped his feet up on the eighteenth-century pine cobbler's bench serving as a coffee table. Beth, who had a good idea of what it would bring at auction, thought it a very expensive footstool.
"So, Mom, what's on your mind? If it's about your group at the clinic, I think we've found someone who—"
"It's partly that, Andy. I've decided not to act as an aide for a new counselor. I think it would be awkward for everyone concerned." She knew her son too well not to detect the relief he tried to hide. "I've also decided to go back to school this fall. I've been talking to Karim about it, and—”
"You talked to Donovan before discussing it with us?"
Beth, unprepared for his confrontational attitude, blinked. "Why, yes. He is the president of the college after all, and frankly, you didn't seem particularly interested."
"How could I seem interested when I didn't know about it?"
"I mentioned the possibility to you the day you broke the news to me that you were advertising for my replacement."
"Not just me. Mom. Dan and Pete were part of that decision, too. The requirements for state funding gave us no choice."
"I realize that, Andy. I'm not blaming anyone. I'm just stating the fact of the matter. There's a growing need for trained geriatric counselors, and if your clinic doesn't have a place for me once I'm properly qualified, I'm sure there'll be other opportunities."
"Yes, I'm sure there would be, but why bother. Mom? You don't need the money, and you're going on fifty—not exactly a kid anymore."
Beth smiled wryly. "I'd say that depends on one's point of view, Andy. In Karim's, I'm only forty-nine, with years of productive life ahead of me. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, fingers interlaced. "The thing is, I like counseling; I flatter myself I'm good at it." She looked at him earnestly. "What else would you have me do?"
Andy's eyes skated away. He began plucking dog hair from the arms of the chair. "Damn dog," he muttered. He rose to his feet, stumbling over a wooden caboose that had gotten detached from the train whose cars were strewn across the carpet. He picked it up, and hurled it into a big wooden box under one of the windows flanking the long couch. Beth feared for the very old, fragile and bubbled panes as the rest of the blocky cars followed suit, each less carefully aimed than the one preceding.
"Do be careful, Andy," Housa warned, "Remember what a hard time we had finding a replacement for the pane Clara broke last year."
"Maybe if you'd occasionally see to it that the kids put their toys away themselves, I wouldn't have to risk breaking my leg every time I enter the house. I hate to think what's going to happen when Mom starts hitting the books this fall."
So that's what all this is about, Beth thought. The built-in support system is about to desert the ship. She decided if she were going to be cast as a rat she might as well play the role to the hilt. No point in poor Housa taking the blame for something that up to now Andy had always indulgently tolerated.
"I'll be an absentee grandmother sooner than this fall, I'm afraid. I've agreed to accompany Karim to Turkey this summer."
Housa brightened. "Oh, Beth, how exciting!"
Andy chopped his hand through the air in a silencing gesture that Beth thought was dispiritingly like his father's. "You can't mean that, Mom. I thought you said he was married. You know perfectly well how the grapevine will interpret that 'accompany' stuff."
Beth raised her eyebrows. It was perfectly clear how her son had interpreted it. "Since when have you worried about what people might say, Andrew?"
"I suppose he expects you to pay your own way? Maybe his, too?"
Beth decided to ignore Andy's concluding query. "Of course I'll pay my own way. As you said, we're not married."
"Does Murry know about this?"
"Not yet," Beth admitted. "Neither does Dana. I thought I'd work up to it, in order of difficulty. Perhaps I got it wrong."
"Oh, I doubt that," Andy retorted. "I'm just the opening salvo. You ain't heard nothin' yet."
As the three of them reflected in silence about Murry and Dana's probable reactions, sympathetic concern gradually routed Andy's hostility. A slow smile eased his face's unfamiliar rigidity into the softer planes she knew and loved. He moved over to the couch and sat beside his mother, one hand reaching out to smooth her hair. She looked up at him, her eyes accepting his unspoken apology.
"It's your life, Mom."
"Yes, Andy, it is." She smiled and got to her feet. "Well, it's heading-home time." For once, no one tried to persuade her to stay a little longer. "No, don't get up, Housa. I want you to stay right there and start planning out your next drawing."
"I think you have more faith in me than I do, Beth," she said in a quiet voice. "But thank you."
Beth reached down impulsively to squeeze her daughter-in-law's hand.
"I'll see you to your car, Mom."
Once outside, Beth paused in wonder on the slate walk.
"Damn! I forgot to switch on the post light," Andy said. "Here, take my hand—"
"No, no, I can see well enough. I was just thinking, those fairies of Housa's sure know how to celebrate a birthday!"
"Birthday? Oh, yes, the queen's. Yes, I guess they do. Careful, it's pretty dark here under the trees."
"She's very good, you know."
Andy paused. "Look, I'm sorry about that."
"Yes, you should be."
"I know I shouldn't have embarrassed her in front of you."
"You mean about the toys left scattered about? If you ask me, you've indulged your children on that score far too long. No, I meant cutting Housa off when she expressed her approval of my going with Karim to Turkey. She has a right to her own opinions."
Andy, who had o
pened the car door for his mother, closed it again. "Mom, what is it you want from me?"
"I don't 'want' anything; what I'd like is for you to start treating your wife like an adult. Let her spread her wings a little. What have you got to lose?"
"Lose? My God, Mom, have you looked at Housa lately? More to the point, have you noticed the way men look at her? Young men, old men...it doesn't matter what age they are or what condition they're in. It doesn't matter if I'm with her, either; I might as well be invisible. God knows she was a vision when I married her, but now she's... she's irresistible."
Beth, recalling Housa in her bikini the week before, had to agree.
"Okay, now look at me: my hair's thinning and a heron's legs have more shape than mine."
"Georgina says you're sexy."
Andy's jaw dropped. "Georgina says what?"
"She says you're—"
"Yes, I heard what you said, I just couldn't believe it." He shifted from one foot to the other, digesting it. "She does?"
"She does. She told me so after watching you speak at the hospice dinner. According to her, Sylvester Stallone doesn't hold a candle to you in that department."
"Well, well. I know Georgina's a good friend of yours, Mom, but she's not exactly wanting in that department herself."
"I know that, dear. I may not be sexy, but I'm not retarded, either."
"Oh, God. Look, Mom, the thing is, sexiness isn't a quality sons feel easy about when it comes to ranking their mothers. Not even sons who are doctors." He opened the Saab's door again. "But if Donovan wants to take you to Turkey with him, I assume his motives aren't purely platonic," he added gruffly.
"I certainly hope not," Beth returned tartly. She slid in under the wheel. "Do I have your blessing then?"
He threw up his long hands. "Too soon for that, Mom. Let's just say that for the time being I'm putting my judgment on hold."
"Fair enough." It's really not, she thought as she blew him a kiss through the window. On the other hand, compared to the reaction I'll get from Mother and Dana.…
Beth forced the disquieting certainty out of her mind and pulled resolutely out onto the state road. She'd cross those bridges when she came to them.
* * * *
Karim called the next morning as Beth was counting up the number of clients realtors had brought to the house since she put it on the market. Could it really be thirty-two? She went through the lists again. Yes, thirty-two visits and one unrealistic offer. She picked up the receiver on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Beth?" Karim rumbled, "It's me. With good news, I hope."
"You want to buy my house at a premium price, occupancy in six months."
"I beg your pardon?"
She laughed. "Sorry about that. I was just adding up the number of people who've been brought to see the house. It's pretty discouraging."
"Oh? I thought you were having a fairly steady stream of lookers."
"Lookers yes; buyers, no."
"All it takes is one, Beth. There's nothing wrong with the house, it's the economic climate you're fighting."
"Comes to the same thing. What's your good news? I could use some."
"You have an appointment to see the head of the social sciences department at quarter of ten this morning at Sherman Hall. He came down from his summer place on Cape Cod last night to look up something for a paper he's working on and we had a drink together. I told him about you and showed him your record, which by chance my secretary had ferreted out that very afternoon."
"From an underground cobwebbed vault, reeking of mildew?"
"Well, it is a bit dog-eared," he admitted. "Anyway, he agreed to see you today before returning to Chatham."
"I hope you didn't lean on him, Karim."
"I didn't have to. He held forth at length over drinks about the tyranny of the young. He's getting on in years himself, you see, so he appreciates your willingness to strike out in new directions. Says he's delighted to do whatever he can to help. So, can you make it?"
Beth glanced at the wall clock. Nine o'clock. "Sure. Who and where?"
"Jeremy Morley. I don't know the number of his office, but it's on the main floor. All the department offices have metal tabs identifying them sticking out into the hall. He's an old school kind of guy. About my height, but lean and wiry, gray hair going white, blue eyes blazing out of a long face tanned like a piece of cowhide—"
"And," Beth broke in, "wearing a blue and white stripe cord suit, white Oxford shirt, red bow tie and canvas deck shoes stained with salt water which he forgot to change yesterday after coming in from his morning sail."
"Amazing! Are you sure you don't have Gypsy blood?"
She laughed. "I'm a New Englander, Karim. I know the type."
"Don't be fooled by his venerable halls-of-ivy look," he warned. "I don't know him well myself, but from all reports he's very much on top of things. Georgina says anyone who makes the mistake of treating him like a dear old codger is in for a very rude comeuppance."
Georgina. Beth felt a pang of guilt. She hadn't even called her since the hospice dinner. "Do you know if she'll be in her office today?"
"Oh, I think so. She's been brooding about the new image we're trying to devise for Peabody. I saw her lights on into the evening yesterday."
"I guess I'll pop in, then."
"You free for lunch? I want to see you."
"I'm due at the clinic at one. I have to wind up my work there. Tomorrow I have to do the same at the hospice." She sighed. "It won't be easy."
"Any regrets?"
"Plenty, but—” She broke off, suddenly anxious. "You're sure Mr. Morley will accept me as a student in his department? I wouldn't care to go through all this for no reason."
"I'm sure, Beth. He says that unless your brain has markedly deteriorated since you took your SAT's you should have no trouble with the course work. In fact, considering your experience, he fears you might not find it demanding enough."
"Really? Then I guess I'd better hang up and search out a pair of bobby socks."
"Oh, no. Jeans and boots with heels."
"Really? Then I guess I'll settle for pantyhose and flats. 'Bye, Karim."
"Hey! If not lunch, how about dinner?"
Beth bit her lip. "I'm meeting Dana and my mother for dinner."
"You haven't told them yet."
"No, only Housa and Andy. She was enthusiastic, bless her, Andy was...okay. Does Amity know?"
There was a long pause. "I'll tell you about it when I see you. Call me."
"I will, my love."
"Love," he whispered. "I like that. Goodbye, darling."
* * * *
In appearance, Jeremy Morley was exactly as Beth had imagined, but his manner proved to be considerably more acerbic than Karim had implied. He laid out an accelerated program for her that took her breath away and told her he expected her to show the idle youth she'd be sharing class space with a thing or two.
"They'll think of you as grandma. Think, hah! Their brains are too addled by beer, drugs and sex to do much of that.” Startlingly blue eyes peered up at her from under black eyebrows liberally laced with white. "Have you got any problems in those departments?"
She gaped at him.
"Drugs and alcohol—your sex life is none of my business."
She shook her head.
"All right, then." He glanced at his watch. "You'll be hearing from the bursar's office. You'll be expected to pay up before your confirmed schedule is sent to you." He put out a hand. "Nice meeting you, Mrs. Volmar." Beth winced as his rope-calloused fingers squeezed hers. He glanced at his watch and began dumping papers in a scuffed, stained, old-fashioned briefcase. "Got to run. I've got a race this evening. Sail, not foot. Star class—you may think that old hat, but it suits me."
Beth, who didn't know enough about sailing to think one way or other about it, wished him luck. He waved a hand and was gone.
Beth retraced her steps to the administration and knocked tentatively at Georgina'
s office door. She heard a muffled mutter. She opened the door and peered around its edge.
"I said 'go away'."
"I couldn't hear you. Besides, I don't want to."
"Beth! Come on in!" Georgina's scowling face was transfigured by a smile of welcome. "What's happening, girl?"
Beth settled herself into the chair across from Georgina's desk, smoothed out her skirt and crossed her legs. "Oh, not much." She heaved a theatrical sigh and inspected her nails. "I've just been talking with Professor Morley. I'm coming to Peabody this fall, aiming for a Master's in his department."
"You're what?"
"But first, I'm going to Turkey with Karim."
"You're what?"
"You're repeating yourself, Georgina."
"You're making this up. Donovan told you I needed distraction."
"He did, but I'm not." Beth solemnly crossed her heart.
"My, my, my. So you finally decided to fly the coop. How's the family taking it?"
"Housa's for it; Andy's coming around. Mother and Dana don't know yet."
"Oh, wow. I guess that explains the daughter."
"I haven't told Dana yet."
"Not yours, his. I saw her through the window—yesterday, was it?—making for the parking lot, legs stomping along like pistons. I swear I saw steam coming out of her ears. She looked like that train in the movie of Anna Karenina we rented last winter, the one Garbo throws herself under at the end?"
Beth dropped her eyes.
"He hasn't told you yet?"
"He mentioned her when he called this morning about the appointment he set up for me with Professor Morley. I could tell he didn't want to discuss it on the phone. He said he would next time we met."
"You've fallen in love with him." It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
Georgina nodded. "Good."
They looked at each other. There was no need to say anything more.
Beth cleared her throat. "Well. Enough about me. Karim tells me you're having a problem with the new approach to the college's publicity."
"The real problem is that I haven't got one yet. Up until now, my releases have always stressed what was new about the college. This return to tradition stuff isn't my line. It's not that I'm against it, Beth, it's just that whatever I try to write about it sounds phony, overblown—like the Boston Pops playing popular music. If I could just get a handle on it.…"
And Be My Love Page 19
