Daphne didn't comment. She'd heard the speech before, when they discussed it. She knew that other parents had much looser rules, some had none at all, and some were like her mom. It was the luck of the draw. Sam appeared in the doorway then in his turkey costume, looking for his mother.
“Do I have to have a bath tonight, Mom? I was real careful. I didn't get dirty at all today.” Maxine smiled in answer, and Daphne turned up the TV, which was the signal to her mother that she'd heard enough and didn't want to hear more. Maxine bent to kiss her and left the room with her youngest son.
“I don't care how careful you were today. Yes, you have to take a bath.”
“That sucks.” Zelda was waiting with an ominous look, and Maxine left Sam to her, stopped in to see Jack, who swore he had done his homework, and went back to her own room, and turned on the TV. It was a nice, quiet, easy night at home, the kind she loved best.
She thought about what Daphne had said to her, that she never went out. It wasn't entirely true. She went to dinner parties occasionally, given by old friends, or couples from their married days. She went to the opera, theater, and ballet, though not as much as she should have, she knew. It seemed like such an effort, and she loved staying home after a long day. She went to movies with her children, and medical dinners she couldn't get out of. But she knew what Daphne meant and she was right. Maxine hadn't had a date in a year. It bothered her sometimes, particularly when she was aware of the passage of time. She was forty-two years old, after all, and hadn't had a serious man in her life since Blake. She dated once in a while, but she hadn't met anyone who set her bells and sirens off in years, and she didn't have much opportunity to meet them. She was either at work or with her kids, and most of the other physicians she met were married, or looking to cheat on their wives, which wasn't what she wanted, or would do. Eligible, appealing men in their forties and fifties were few and far between. All the good ones were married, or appeared to be, and what was left floating around were guys who had “issues” or intimacy problems, who were gay or commitment phobic, or wanted to date women half her age. Finding a man to have a relationship with was not as easy as it looked, and she wasn't losing sleep over it. She figured that if it was meant to happen one day, it would. And in the meantime, she was fine like this.
When she and Blake first broke up, she had always assumed she'd find someone else, maybe even get married again, but now that seemed less and less likely every year. Blake was the one swinging from the chandeliers, enjoying an active dating life, with gorgeous young girls. Maxine was sitting home night after night, with her children and their nanny, and she wasn't sure she wanted it any other way. She certainly wouldn't have traded time with her children for a hot date. And in the end, what was so bad about this? For an instant, she allowed herself to think of nights in her husband's arms, dancing with him, laughing with him, walking on the beach with him, and making love. It was a little scary thinking that she might never have sex again, or even be kissed. But if that was the way things shook out for her, then she was fine like this. She had her kids. What else did she need? She always told herself that was enough.
She was still thinking about it, when Sam walked in fresh from his bath, in clean pajamas and bare feet, with damp hair smelling of shampoo, and hopped onto her bed. “Whatcha thinking about, Mom? You look sad.” What he said startled her out of her reverie as she smiled at him.
“I'm not sad, sweetheart. I was just thinking about stuff.”
“Grown-up stuff?” he asked with interest, as he turned up the volume of the TV with the remote.
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” At least he didn't invent a gorilla this time, and she smiled at him.
“Sure. Sounds good to me.” She loved it when he slept with her. He cuddled up next to her, and it gave them both the comfort they needed. With small, yummy Sam in her bed at night, tucked in next to her, what else could she possibly want? No date or passing romance or relationship could ever be as sweet.
Chapter 4
On Thanksgiving morning Maxine checked on the children in each of their rooms. Daphne was lying on her bed talking to a friend on the cell phone, which had officially been returned to her. She was still on restriction and had no social life, but at least she had her phone life back. Jack was in front of his computer, wearing a blue shirt, gray slacks, and a blazer, and Maxine helped him tie his tie. And Sam was still in his pajamas, glued to the TV, watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Zelda had left earlier to spend the day with a friend who worked for a family in Westchester, and was doing Thanksgiving lunch for a bunch of nannies she knew. They were a special breed, who gave their lives to the children they cared for and loved, and had none of their own.
Maxine got Sam's clothes out for him and reminded Daphne to get off the phone and get dressed. Her daughter walked into her bathroom with her cell phone still glued to her ear and slammed the door. And Maxine walked back into her own room to get ready. She was planning to wear a beige pantsuit with a matching cashmere turtleneck sweater and high heels. She pulled the sweater over her head, and started brushing her hair.
Ten minutes later Sam came in, with his shirt buttoned wrong, his fly open, and his hair sticking up all over the place, and she grinned.
“Do I look okay?” he asked confidently, as she brushed his hair down, and told him to zip up his fly.
“Oh,” he said with a grin, as she buttoned his shirt for him, and told him to get his tie. He made a face. “Do I have to wear that too? It strangles me.”
“Then we won't tie it so tight. Grampa always wears a tie, and Jack is wearing one today.”
“Daddy never wears a tie,” Sam countered with a look of pain.
“Yes, he does.” Maxine held firm. Blake looked great in a suit. “He does when he goes out.”
“Not anymore.”
“Well, you have to on Thanksgiving. And don't forget to get your loafers out.” She knew that otherwise, he would want to wear his running shoes to lunch at his grandparents'. As he went back to his own room to get his tie and shoes, Daphne appeared in the doorway in a short black miniskirt, black stockings, and high heels. She had come to her mother's room to borrow another sweater, her favorite pink one, and tiny diamonds sparkled in her pierced ears. Maxine had given them to her for her thirteenth birthday and allowed her to have her ears pierced. Now she wanted a second set of holes in her ears. “Everyone” had two pierces at least at school. So far Maxine hadn't given in, and her daughter looked lovely with her dark hair brushed softly around her face. Maxine handed over the pink sweater, just as Sam walked in with his shoes and a mystified expression.
“I can't find my tie,” he said, looking pleased.
“Yes, you can. Go back and look again,” Maxine said firmly.
“I hate you,” he said, the expected response, as Maxine got into her suit, slipped into high heels, and put pearl earrings on.
Half an hour later, they were all dressed, both boys had their ties on, with ski parkas over their blazers, and Daphne was wearing a short black coat with a little fur collar that Blake had given her for her birthday. They looked neat, respectable, and well dressed, and walked the short distance down Park Avenue to their grandparents' apartment. Daphne wanted to take a cab, but Maxine said the walk would do them good. It was a beautiful sunny November day, and the children were all looking forward to their father's arrival that afternoon. He was flying in from Paris, and they were due at his apartment in time for dinner. Maxine had agreed to go along. It would be nice to see Blake.
The doorman at her parents' apartment building wished them all a happy Thanksgiving as they got into the elevator. Maxine's mother was waiting for them at the door when they got out. She looked strikingly like Maxine, in an older, slightly heavier version, and Maxine's father was standing just behind her with a broad smile.
“My, my,” he said kindly, “what a good-looking group you are.” He kissed his daughter first, shook hands with the
boys, while Daphne kissed her grandmother, and then smiled at her grandfather, while he gave her a hug.
“Hi, Grampa,” she said softly, and they followed their grandparents into the living room. Their grandmother had done several beautiful arrangements of fall flowers, and the apartment looked as neat and elegant as ever. Everything was impeccable and in good order, and the children sat down politely on the couch and chairs. They knew that at their grandparents' house they had to behave. Their grandparents were kind and loving, but they weren't used to having that many children around at once, particularly boys. Sam sneaked a deck of cards out of his pocket, and he and his grandfather started a game of Go Fish! while Maxine and her mother went out to the kitchen to check on the turkey. Everything had been meticulously set out and prepared— gleaming silver, immaculately pressed linens, the turkey was all cooked, and the vegetables were cooking. Sharing Thanksgiving was a tradition they all loved. Maxine always enjoyed visiting with her parents. They had been supportive of her all her life, and particularly so since her divorce from Blake. They had liked him, but thought he had been over the top ever since his big win in the dot-com boom. The way he lived now was entirely beyond their understanding. They worried about his influence on the children, but had been relieved to see that Maxine's solid values and constant attention had continued to ground them. They were crazy about their grandchildren and loved having them come to visit and sharing holidays with them.
Maxine's father was still busy with his practice, teaching and still attending surgeries of special cases, and he was extremely proud of his daughter with her own medical career. When she had decided to go to medical school and follow in his footsteps, it had pleased him no end. He was a little startled by her decision to specialize in psychiatry, a world he knew little about, but he was impressed by the career and reputation she had forged for herself in her field. He had proudly given away many copies of both of her books.
Her mother checked on the sweet potatoes in the oven, poked the turkey again to make sure it wasn't drying out, and turned to Maxine with a warm smile. She was a quiet, reserved woman who had been satisfied all her life to be in the background, be supportive of her husband, and she was proud to be a physician's wife. She had never felt the need for a career of her own. She was of a generation that was happy to stand behind their men, bring up their children, and as long as there was no pressing financial need, stay home instead of work. She had done extensive charity work for the Junior League, was a volunteer at the hospital where her husband was on staff, and she enjoyed reading for the blind. She was satisfied, happy, and her life was full, but she worried that her daughter had too much responsibility on her shoulders, and worked too hard. It bothered her more than it did her husband that Blake was an absentee father, although her own husband hadn't been directly involved with his own daughter either. But the reasons for it, and his demanding practice, seemed far more comprehensible and respectable to Marguerite Connors than Blake's obsessive and totally irresponsible pursuit of fun. She had never been able to understand what he was doing or how he behaved, and she thought it remarkable that Maxine was so patient about it, and so tolerant of his complete lack of responsibility toward their children. In fact, she felt downright sorry for them for what they were missing, and for Maxine. And it worried her that there wasn't a serious man in her life.
“How are you, dear? As busy as ever?” Marguerite asked. She and Maxine talked a few times a week, but rarely said anything substantive. Had Maxine felt the need, she would have been more inclined to discuss things with her father, who had a more realistic view of the world. Her mother had been so sheltered through nearly fifty years of marriage that she was far less able to be helpful in any practical way. And Maxine hated to worry her. “Are you working on a new book?”
“Not yet. And my practice always gets a little crazy before the holidays. There's always some lunatic doing something to put kids in jeopardy or traumatize them, and my adolescent patients get upset about the holidays, like everyone else. Holidays always seem to drive everyone a little nuts,” Maxine said, helping her mother put the rolls in the bread basket after they'd been warmed. Their dinner looked beautiful and smelled great. Although she had help during the week, her mother was a terrific cook, and took great pride in cooking holiday meals herself. She always prepared Christmas dinner too, which was a huge relief for Maxine, who had never been as domestic, and was more like her father in many ways. She also had his realistic, practical view of the world. She was more scientific than artistic, and as the breadwinner in her own family, she was more down to earth. To this day, her father still wrote the checks and paid the bills. Maxine was well aware that if anything ever happened to him, her mother would be completely lost in the real world.
“Holidays are always busy for us too,” Marguerite said as she took the turkey out of the oven. It looked like it was ready to be photographed for a magazine. “Everyone seems to break something during ski season, and as soon as it gets cold, people start falling on the ice and breaking hips.” She had done it herself three years before, and had had a hip replacement. She had come out of it very well. “You know how busy your father gets this time of year.”
Maxine smiled in answer, helping her get the sweet potatoes out of the oven, and setting them down on the island in the center of the kitchen. The crust of marshmallows covering them was a perfect golden brown. “Dad's always busy, Mom.”
“So are you,” her mother said proudly, and went to get her husband to carve the turkey. When Maxine followed her back into the living room, he was still playing cards with Sam, and the other two children were watching football on TV. Her father was a huge fan, and had been the orthopedic surgeon for the New York Jets for years. He still saw them as patients in his practice.
“Turkey time,” her mother announced, as her father got up to go and carve the turkey. He apologized to Sam and looked at his daughter with a grin. He'd been having a good time.
“I think he cheats,” her father commented about his grandson.
“Definitely,” Maxine agreed, as her father disappeared into the kitchen to do his job.
Ten minutes later the turkey was carved, and he brought it to the dining table, as his wife called out to all of them to come and sit down. Maxine found great pleasure in the family ritual, and was grateful that they were all there together and her parents were in good health. Her mother was seventy-eight, and her father seventynine, although both were in great shape. It was hard to believe that her parents were now that old.
Her mother said grace, as she did every year, and then her father passed the turkey platter around. There was stuffing, cranberry jelly, sweet potatoes, wild rice, peas, spinach, chestnut puree, and rolls her mother made from scratch. It was a veritable feast.
“Yumm!” Sam said as he piled the sweet potatoes with the marshmallow topping onto his plate. He took gobs of cranberry jelly, a healthy portion of stuffing, a slice of white turkey meat, and no vegetables at all. Maxine said nothing to him, and let him enjoy the meal.
As always, the conversation was lively whenever they got together. Their grandfather asked them respectively how they were doing in school, and was particularly interested in Jack's soccer games. And by the time lunch was over, they were so full they could hardly move. The meal had been finished off with apple, pumpkin, and mince pies, with a choice of vanilla ice cream or perfectly whipped cream. Sam's shirttail was hanging out when he left the table, the neck of his shirt was open, and his tie was askew. Jack looked more respectable, but had taken his tie off too. Only Daphne looked like a perfect lady, the way she had when she arrived. All three children went back to the living room to watch football, as Maxine sat and relaxed over coffee with her parents.
“It was a fantastic meal, Mom,” Maxine said honestly. She loved the way her mother cooked, and wished she could have learned it from her. But she didn't have the interest or the skill. “It always is fantastic when you cook,” she added, and her mother beamed.
&n
bsp; “Your mother is an amazing woman,” her father said, and Maxine smiled at the look they exchanged. They were cute. After all these years, they were still in love. Their fiftieth anniversary was coming up the following year. Maxine was already thinking about giving a party for them. As their only child, the responsibility fell to her. “The kids are looking great,” her father commented, as Maxine helped herself to a chocolate mint from a silver tray her mother had set down in front of them as Maxine groaned. It was hard to believe she could swallow anything else after the enormous meal, but somehow she did.
“Thanks, Dad. They're fine.”
“It's a shame their father doesn't see more of them.” It was a comment he always made. As much as he had enjoyed Blake's company at times, as a father he thought he was a disgrace.
“He's coming in tonight,” Maxine commented noncommittally. She knew what her father thought, and she didn't entirely disagree.
“For how long?” her mother asked. She shared her husband's point of view, that Blake had turned out to be a big disappointment as a husband and father, although she liked him.
“Probably for the weekend,” if he stayed that long. With Blake, that was never a sure thing. But at least he was coming, and seeing them on Thanksgiving. That wasn't automatically a given with him, and the kids were happy with whatever time they got, however brief.
“When did he see them last?” her father asked with obvious disapproval.
“July. In Greece, on the boat. They had a great time.”
“That's not the point,” her father said sternly. “Children need a father. He's never around.”
“He never was,” Maxine said honestly. She didn't have to defend him anymore, although she didn't like being unkind, or to upset the kids by making negative comments about him, which she never did. “That's why we got divorced. He loves them, he just forgets to show up. As Sam says, it sucks. But they seem very well adjusted about it. They may get upset about it later, but for now, they seem to be okay. They accept him for what he is, a lovable, unreliable guy who loves them, and is a lot of fun to be with.” It was a perfect assessment of Blake. Her father frowned and shook his head.
Rogue Page 7
