“You’ve gone native?” were the first words she said to her. Theo had changed into a rust-colored sari trimmed in gold with a short taffeta blouse beneath it in pale green, and gold shoes.
“The colors are perfect for Thanksgiving,” Isabelle said to cover the awkward moment, while praying silently that Xela would kiss her sister and bury the hatchet at least until the end of lunch. Theo was the first to make a move and hugged Xela, who looked stiff and uncomfortable. She was wearing a red sweater and jeans, and Isabelle was wearing a dressy black sweater and black velvet slacks. The turkey was almost ready and smelled delicious. The fragrance wafted throughout the house.
“How’s your business going?” Theo asked her politely, looking more than ever like her father, as Isabelle came and went to the kitchen to check on the food. She was glad she’d had the previous evening alone with Theo, before things got tense the moment Xela arrived. She had a knot in her stomach as Xela told Theo about the problems she was having with potential investors. It was the only thing she cared about, and Isabelle couldn’t help remembering Collin while she talked endlessly about getting her business off the ground. But Xela was an ambitious, earnest young entrepreneur, not a crook. She had her father’s ingenuity and creativity for business, but her mother’s honesty and integrity, which was a better combination.
“I’m making a big investment in the hospital I’m working on now too,” Theo said quietly in her peaceful, otherworldly way.
“The big difference between us is that you can afford to, with your own money. I have to run around begging people to invest who want to skin me alive. It’s not exactly the same thing.” But she wasn’t saving lives either, which no one pointed out.
They sat down to lunch after that, and the conversation was strained, despite Isabelle’s efforts to keep it light. The turkey was delicious, as were all the vegetables and stuffing she’d made to go with it. It was her annual tour de force in the kitchen, which she avoided for the rest of the year. The table looked beautiful. The only mishap was when she set a bowl of peas down after passing it around. She put it too close to the edge of the table and it fell, spilling peas everywhere. Isabelle rushed to clean it up, and Theo helped her. No one seemed shocked by it. It seemed like an ordinary accident to them.
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Isabelle said, looking embarrassed, and neither of her daughters read it as a sign that something was wrong with their mother. They had begun to relax by then, and talked about how enormous Oona was and how incredible it was to think she was going to have five children soon, and was turning twenty-seven shortly.
“It couldn’t happen to me,” Xela said, sounding sarcastic about Oona. “I don’t have time for men and babies. I want to get this startup going and make some real money,” Xela said single-mindedly, and then looked cynically at her older sister. “And you’re too busy saving the world to have kids. It’ll probably take you your whole life to give it all away.” Her jealousy came through her pores, and Theo didn’t answer for a minute, and then answered her sister with a small smile.
“There’s still enough left,” she said, sufficiently irked by her to rub it in intentionally. The temptation was hard to resist, although Theo rarely reacted to her sister, but she knew what annoyed her.
“I’ll bet there is,” Xela said tartly. She resented Theo for never offering to invest in her business. Theo had no interest in commercial ventures, only philanthropic ones. “You are definitely the Number One member of the Lucky Sperm Club. If Mom hadn’t had an affair with your father when she was practically a kid, you’d be working your ass off like me on less noble projects, or have a job you hate like the rest of the world.” It drove her crazy that Theo was exempt from the stresses she lived with and could rise above it all.
“Girls!” Isabelle said sharply, looking straight at Xela. “It’s Thanksgiving. Let’s be grateful for what we have, not angry because of what someone else has. And by the way, I don’t hate my job.”
“Neither do I,” Xela said. “I just want to make a heap of money out of it, so I can play saint like Theo.”
“I don’t play saint, Xela, I love what I do,” Theo stated quietly. “Just like you do. You would hate what I do every day.”
“Damn right I would. Sick babies and starving people are not my thing.”
“Have you met Mom’s new assistant?” Theo asked her, changing the subject. She could see how uncomfortable their mother was at the turn the conversation had taken.
“He’s not here at night when I come by. He sounds like the Boy Wonder,” Xela said about Jack, irritable about him too.
“He certainly is,” Isabelle added, grateful they had moved on to a more neutral topic. “He’s learning very quickly.”
“What did he do before he worked for you?” Theo asked her, to be polite.
“He worked for a senator in Washington as a personal assistant. And on sports radio and TV and in PR before that.”
“That’s quite a leap to art, isn’t it?” Xela asked skeptically.
“He’s supporting a sick sister who has MS.”
“Oh God, not another saint.” Xela rolled her eyes as she said it, and Theo didn’t comment. The conversation limped along until they had tried all the pies, with ice cream and homemade whipped cream. She always bought their favorites, pumpkin, apple, and mince, so they could have a thin slice of each. And pecan, which was Oona’s preference, although she wasn’t there. They had coffee in the living room. Isabelle almost spilled Xela’s when she set it down, and she looked at her mother with a raised eyebrow.
“You’ve got the dropsies, Mom. You need more practice than just cooking once a year.”
“I suppose I do.” It never dawned on Xela or even Theo with her altruistic nature that there might be another reason for it. They both lived in their own worlds, totally absorbed in their own doings, and no one else’s, with no concern for their mother, whom they considered competent in the extreme. She had been the role model for all of them. And Oona was just as capable at being a wife and mother as they were in their jobs. They were four superwomen, each in her own way.
It was hard for Isabelle to remember now what it had been like to cook for children and a husband. She had been married to Collin so briefly, and he was never there. She had never lived with Putnam. She and Declan had shared the cooking, but he died when they’d only been married for seven months. Despite three men and three children, she had never had a long-term full-time relationship. It felt strange to admit, even to herself.
“I guess none of us are good at relationships,” Xela said later in the conversation, referring to herself, her mother, and her older sister, and they all knew she wasn’t entirely wrong.
“I’ve been doing other things that are more important to me right now,” Theo defended herself.
“I can’t help what happened to your father, Xela,” Isabelle said quietly. Collin had never tried to contact his daughter, and when Xela had researched him later on, she discovered that he had gone to prison again after the first time, and for all she knew he was still there. She no longer wanted to know. “And Declan died before Oona was even born. I didn’t kill him,” she said sadly. He was the only normal relationship she’d ever had.
“But you never tried again either,” Xela reminded her.
“I didn’t have time,” Isabelle said coolly, “and by the time you all grew up, I was too old.”
“You were fifty when Oona left for college, Mom,” Xela persisted. “That’s not too old, and you’re not too old now. You just don’t want a man in your life. Neither do Theo and I. We have bigger plans.”
“You can have your careers and a man,” her mother pointed out.
“I’m not so sure,” Xela said. “I work eighteen-hour days.”
“I work twenty-four sometimes,” Theo added. “Besides, I never meet anyone where I am. No one I’d want to
marry, or even date, and that’s not what I’m there for.”
“No cute doctors?” Xela challenged her. “I’ll bet there are some.” But Isabelle knew how much Theo was like her father. She could only focus on one thing at a time, and her life in India was her way of not engaging in the world, just as Putnam hadn’t. They were emotionally frightened people, and in her own way Xela was too. She hid behind her startup so she didn’t have to meet a man. Isabelle wondered if she was afraid to fail at both.
“Maybe I set a bad example for you all by being alone for so long. Most of the men I met weren’t eager to take on three children, and I was more interested in being with you than running around dating.” She had ended up alone as a result. She didn’t regret it. She had known true love at least twice, with Putnam and Declan. She didn’t count Collin, since everything that had happened with him had been a fraud, except for Xela, who was all too real.
“Well, we’re all doing fine,” Xela confirmed. “I have my business, Saint Theo has her hospital, Oona has Gregorio and her seven million children. And you seem happy to me, Mom.”
“I am,” she said peacefully.
“And now you have your assistant to help with the practical stuff. You don’t need a man.” Xela had it all figured out for everyone. She tossed a few more barbs at her sister, and at seven o’clock she left, having spent the whole afternoon with them. Isabelle was grateful there had been no major explosions, and Theo looked exhausted as her sister left. They had hugged at the front door, and Xela was going away for the weekend with friends the next day. There was snow in New Hampshire and they were going to check it out and hoped to do some skiing.
“God, she wears me out,” Theo said with a sigh after Xela left. “She hates me, she has all my life.” Isabelle looked aggrieved to hear her say it. It pained her for both of them.
“She doesn’t hate you. She resents what you have and she doesn’t.”
“That’s not my fault,” Theo complained. “You should have slept with three equally rich men, then we wouldn’t have this problem,” Theo teased her.
“Sorry. I never thought of it. His money had nothing to do with why I loved your father. And Declan had almost nothing. I’ve always been careful to support myself, even when I was involved with your father. I didn’t want to depend on him, or anyone else. I needed to know I could take care of myself. And I have.”
“It’s so unpleasant that Xela is so focused on the money. She doesn’t see me as a person. She never has.”
“That’s why she wants to make a lot of money one day. To compete with you, I think.” They both knew it was true. “She’ll never have what your father left you. Neither will I.”
“The difference is that you don’t think about it and don’t care. She thinks about nothing else,” Theo said reasonably.
“It’s sad for her,” Isabelle said. “She’s never content. It’s why she drives herself so hard.”
They went to tidy up the kitchen then and load the dishwasher. It took a long time. They had used Isabelle’s good china, which had belonged to her parents. The kitchen was spotless when they finished. Theo was good at scrubbing up. Xela hadn’t stayed to help. She never did.
They both went to bed early, tired after the day. It had been a good Thanksgiving, better than Isabelle had dared to hope. There had been no major explosions, and no one had left the table.
The next day they got up and walked around the neighborhood. Theo had a few errands to do before she left on Monday. She wanted to buy underwear for some of the children who had never had any, and some American medicines she couldn’t get in India. She bought a pair of hiking boots for herself, and some small presents for the children, and a huge bag of lollipops she squeezed into her suitcase.
The weekend flew by too quickly, and Isabelle felt the same ache in her soul she always felt when Theo left. It was as though she was slipping through her fingers. It was the same sensation she had always had when she’d left Putnam at the end of August and knew she wouldn’t see him for another eleven months. With Theo, she never knew when she would see her again either. And just as they began to get close after a few days, Theo was gone. She was the butterfly one couldn’t hang on to. The bird that always flew away.
Isabelle was looking sad when Jack came to work on Monday morning, and found her in the kitchen. He had the feeling she’d been crying but didn’t want to ask.
“How was Thanksgiving?” he inquired, making coffee for both of them, and set hers down on the table in front of her just the way she liked it. No sugar and a splash of milk. By now, he knew her habits. “I thought about you all weekend, but I didn’t want to call and intrude.”
“It was nice.” She smiled as he sat down across from her, his legs stretched out a mile. “Maybe too nice. It makes it harder when they leave.”
“No fights?”
“Some skirmishes and caustic comments from the usual source. Nothing serious. No major casualties for a change. I just never know when I’ll see them again.”
“My sister feels that way too. Your children live so far away. We should go to India sometime to visit Theo,” he suggested.
“She’s too busy. I’ve been there but I always feel like a nuisance when I visit. How was your Thanksgiving?”
“Easy. Pleasant. I cooked a decent meal. Lots of football after that. Thanksgiving isn’t really about being grateful, it’s about food and football.” He smiled at her. He was excited that they were leaving for Italy in three weeks. Sandy was happy for him too. She never wanted to hold him back.
They worked together that morning, and Theo called in the afternoon. She’d done everything she needed to, and Isabelle wanted to beg her to come back to New York so she could see her one more time, but she had changed her ticket and was flying to London that night. She was well versed in being the mother of adults, and particularly someone like Theo, so Isabelle didn’t ask her when she would see her again. It was enough for now that she had come home for four days, just as a month in the summer with Put was all she knew she’d ever get. They weren’t capable of more.
* * *
—
She had another session with her doctor the next day, and came home rattled and exhausted after the shots. It was too soon to see any improvement, and she was so tired when she got home, she tripped over the carpet when she walked into her office and almost fell. Jack shot a hand out instinctively and caught her.
“Good reflexes,” she complimented him with a tired smile. The corner of the rug had been folded back, and she hadn’t seen it.
“You do that a lot, don’t you?” he asked hesitantly, out of concern not curiosity.
“Not really. Just clumsy and distracted.” He didn’t comment, but not for the first time, he wondered if she had MS like Sandy. She fell a lot in the beginning too. But she wound up flat on the ground when she lost her balance. Isabelle bumped into things she didn’t see, or misjudged distances. He never pressed her about it, but had kept her from falling several times. Sometimes he wondered if that was why he was there. But she was involving him in her business too. She introduced him to clients, let him sit in on meetings, and lent him more books, in order to educate him in her field. He enjoyed what he was learning and told his sister about it at night.
“Maybe you’ll be an art dealer when you grow up,” she teased him.
“Not likely. I blew it when I gave up being a DJ. They make a fortune these days. They didn’t then, or I might have stuck with it.”
“You can always do that at night.” She smiled. She liked seeing him look happy and enjoying his job. Coming to New York for her had worked out well for both of them, and had been a blessing in disguise when he got the job with Isabelle. “Just don’t meet the love of your life in Italy and never come back,” she warned him and he laughed.
“Not going to happen. You’re stuck with me.”
“Yo
u’ll meet the right girl one of these days,” she said.
“I’m not looking for it. I like my life the way it is now. I think I missed the boat, and I don’t mind at all.” She almost believed him, but not quite. She knew him better than that despite his brave words. And she saw through him. There was a lonely man behind the smile.
Chapter Twelve
Jack and Isabelle flew from New York to Paris five days before Christmas, had a three-hour layover at Charles de Gaulle airport to switch planes, and then flew to Florence. They had both slept for most of the overnight flight from New York. Normally, she would have put him in business class, but with her new concerns about her sight, she got him a seat in first with her.
“What have I done to deserve this?” he asked her when they got to the airport and he saw the tickets. He hadn’t flown first-class in twenty years, and under circumstances very different from this.
“I thought it would be a nice kickoff to the trip.” She didn’t want to tell him the real reason, but if her eyes failed her or tricked her, she didn’t want to fall flat on her face on the plane. She was still surprised that her daughters hadn’t reacted when she’d dropped the bowl of peas on Thanksgiving.
He thanked her again when they settled in their seats, and had a midnight supper that was luxurious and very French, with a four-course meal that included caviar and foie gras. And then he watched a movie while she slept, and eventually went to sleep himself, with a comforter, a mattress, and a pillow.
They spent the time between flights in Paris in the first-class lounge, and the plane to Florence left on time.
“Where exactly do they live?” he asked as the flight took off, it would take just over an hour.
“She lives about an hour south of Florence, in Tuscany. Near a little town called Castellina in Chianti, north of Siena. They have a fantastic horse race in Siena twice every summer. It’s called the Palio. The jockeys ride bareback and race right around the Piazza del Campo in the center of town. But the little village close to the farm is sleepy and picturesque. Gregorio bought the property before they got married. He’s kind of a gentleman farmer, but he takes the farm very seriously, and their vineyards. A nobleman in love with his land. I never thought she’d turn into a country girl after growing up in New York. But she loves it, and it’s a great place for their three little boys.” Jack was going to take her there, with the car and driver that picked them up. He had been directed to wait, and take Jack back to Florence for the night, and in the morning he was going to Rome to meet up with his friend, and come back for her in two weeks. They were both looking forward to the trip. “I’d have asked you to stay but you’d die of boredom.” And she wanted to be alone with her family. There would be enough people around. Gregorio’s family had been established in Florence for centuries, and he had several sisters and brothers nearby. They were constantly in and out of the house, and his parents visited on weekends. It would be hard to get five minutes alone with Oona. Gregorio always had some project for her, or something he needed her to see at the far end of the property. He was as demanding as the children, who were eighteen months old, three, and four, and now the twins.
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