“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. I’ve gotten used to you prowling around the house in the middle of the night.”
“I could move in with you for a while if you’d like,” Mitch offered. “I’m a consummate night prowler. Mind you, that’s not all I know how to do in the dark.”
“Behave, Boo-Boo,” she chided him.
“Des, I’m still not totally comfortable with you-”
“Tough,” she said, feeling Ruth Berger’s eyes on her. The little lady had been staring at her all through the meal.
After they finished eating, Ruth insisted on helping her clear the table, her jaw clenched with determination. The Talk. Des had been waiting for this. Dreading it. Because there was no avoiding the reality of their situation. Mitch was a Jewish widower. Des was a divorced woman of color. She wasn’t sure exactly how Ruth’s words would go. But she was fairly certain what her message would be:
You’ve had your fun-now stay away from my son.
Des piled their plates in the sink, steeling herself as Ruth set the serving bowls down on the kitchen counter.
When the words came they weren’t what Des was expecting at all.
Ruth Berger said, “Thank you, Desiree.”
“For what, Ruth?”
“Saving my boy. We thought we were going to lose him after Maisie died. He didn’t smile for two whole years. Now he can’t stop smiling. He loves life again. And it’s all because of you.”
“You’re giving me too much credit.”
“Nonsense. You’ve made him whole again.”
Des heard hearty male laughter from the other room. The men enjoying each other’s company.
Ruth glanced at the doorway, lowering her voice. “After Maisie’s funeral, he just sat in their apartment for months watching old movies and stuffing his face. When we tried to visit him he wouldn’t let us in. He wouldn’t even speak to us on the phone. His editor, Lacy, was planning to put him on medical leave. She phoned me, you know.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Neither does Mitch. Please don’t tell him.”
“I won’t.”
“The lady absolutely could not figure out what to do about him. I told her that when he was a little boy all he ever wanted to do was sit in the apartment watching old movies on TV. Sometimes I had to turn off the set and shove him out into the sunshine to play with the other boys. So Lacy did. She sent him here to Dorset to write a weekend getaway piece. She didn’t think he’d agree to go, but I assured her he would. He’s always been very conscientious.”
“So Mitch coming here was your idea?”
“I suppose it was.”
“Ruth, if it hadn’t been for you we would never have met.”
Ruth looked at Des curiously. “His life is so much better now. Is yours?”
“Yes, it is. That’s not to say that everything’s been perfect. We’ve had our ups and downs.”
“Oh, hell, all couples do. I left Chester for three months. Moved in with my girlfriend Lenore on West 78th Street. This was before Mitch was born. He doesn’t know. Don’t ever tell him.”
“I won’t. Why did you?…”
“Because I wasn’t in charge of my own life anymore. Chester was. He could be very bossy when he was younger. I persuaded him to accept me as his equal and stop telling me what to do. We worked things out. We just had to grow up a little. By ‘we’ I mean Chester. My point is, we were totally right for each other. Same as you and Mitch are totally right for each other. And if you ever decide you want to make me a grandmother, I wouldn’t say no.” Ruth hesitated before she added, “Mitch was all wrong, you see.”
“All wrong about what?”
“He thought Maisie was his soul mate for life. She wasn’t. You are.”
Damn.
Des bit down hard on her lower lip, her eyes misting over.
“Oh, dear, now I’ve upset you. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. You didn’t upset me. You made me feel good all over.”
Ruth smiled at Des and said, “I’m glad. That makes us even.” She glanced around at the cluttered counter. “Are we done here?”
Des said, “We’re done.” Then she took Mitch’s mother by the arm and led her back into the living room to join the three good men in their lives.
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The Blood Red Indian Summer bam-8 Page 23
