“Well. I was a pure and innocent teenager, after all.”
“So was I.” He grinned.
“But your life went pretty much the same,” Miller said, not looking up. “Whereas Emma had to move and raise the baby and do all the work.”
Jason’s face froze, and Miller gave himself a little shake. “I’m sorry. I don’t actually know what I’m talking about. Didn’t mean to be rude, Jase. I’m not getting a lot of sleep these days.”
“No, dude, it’s fine. You’re right.”
“Spot-on,” I said. “Which is exactly why my grandparents resent him. But Genevieve resents me, too, so we can be a club, Jason.” As usual, I offered the olive branch, then wondered why.
“Emma, would you take off my sock?” Donelle called. “I can’t reach it, honey, and I want to show Dr. Talwar my toenail.”
“Duty calls,” I murmured, going to Donelle’s side and taking off her sock. Both the good doctor and I recoiled.
Donelle’s big toenail didn’t look like something that grew on humans. It looked like a tree fungus, greenish and curling around into a tube, with a whitish ooze coming out. I would never look at a cannoli the same way again.
“Let’s put this sock right back on, shall we?” I said, trying to do the job without actually looking at the foot.
“Hold on there, Emma,” Donelle said. “Dr. Talwar—what’s your first name?”
The female doctor looked slightly terrified. “Saanvi. I’m a thoracic surgeon, so I’m afraid I can’t—”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure this out. Look. Is that fungus or what? Also, can you prescribe some medical weed for this? Wait. Is pot legal yet?”
Dr. Talwar covered her mouth with her fist. “Your toe does require attention, yes. I’m fairly certain you can’t get medical marijuana for it, though.”
“Good God, Donelle,” I said. “Put it away. Here. Let me help.”
“I’ve been having the kid smear it with Vicks VapoRub,” Donelle said. “Think it’ll work?”
“You know, I don’t recall Vicks as a therapy for that, ah, condition,” Dr. Talwar said, backing away.
“I’ll cut it back for you,” Pop said, cocking his head. “Got some pretty sharp hedge clippers that should do the job.”
“Are you flirting with me, Paul?” Donelle asked.
He smiled begrudgingly and didn’t deny it.
“Seriously, Doc, what’s your take on it? Surgery?”
“Donelle, for heaven’s sake, stop harassing my guests.” Genevieve arrived, martini in hand. “We have discussed the state of your hideous foot more than enough. Saanvi, I would love your opinion on a new color for the front parlor. Do you mind? Donelle, darling, put your sock back on and let Emma visit. Emma, dear, have you met the other Dr. Talwar? Vikram, this is my granddaughter, Emma London.”
There it was, the magical Genevieve London hospitality. Even Donelle’s hideous, bark-like toenails couldn’t faze her. For a moment, our eyes met, and I felt an unwilling tug of admiration.
“Very nice to meet you,” I said to the guest.
“And you,” he said. “So nice for Genevieve to have you and your daughter here for the summer.” His phone chirped, and he looked at it. “I’m so sorry. I’m on call tonight and have to take this.”
“Of course.” The other guests seemed to know each other—three women and a man, all laughing, all very well dressed, preppy with a little extra—the diamond stud earrings, the Patek Philippe watch.
For a second, I felt the urge to go upstairs and hang out with the kids. But Riley was making a friend (I hoped), and I should let her.
Always on the fringe, that old familiar feeling.
“Em. Come on out here and play with people your own age.” Jason waved me over to the deck. Miller was already there, looking out over the lawn toward the water. The birds had begun singing their evening songs, and a blue heron made its way slowly across the sky, looking prehistoric as it flew.
“Tess seems like a very bright girl,” I said, sitting down on a lounge chair next to Miller.
“I think she is,” he said. “Thank you.”
“If you ever need someone to talk to,” I said, “I’m a psychologist and all that.”
Really great sell, Emma. He looked at me and smiled a little, his sad eyes crinkling, and for a second I remembered the slight crush I had on him back then. He’d seemed so much older and more together than Jason.
“Thank you,” he said.
“He’s got us, too. You know that, right, Miller?” Jason sat down on the other side of me.
“Of course,” Miller said.
“So things are going well, Em?” Jason asked. “We should have dinner and really talk. We have so much to catch up on.”
We didn’t, to the best of my knowledge. We talked almost every day since I’d gotten here and had never gone for more than a couple of days without some communication.
He was being a little . . . weird. Possessive. Something.
The sun sank behind the pine trees, and the water sparkled with gold and red.
“Did you start that garden?” Miller asked me.
“I did,” I said. “Over behind the garage, on the south side. If you want fresh tomatoes in a month or two, you know where to raid.”
“I love fresh tomatoes,” Jason said. “You put in any basil?”
“A few plants, yep. Parsley, dill.”
“Cool. We have a garden, too. Well. I guess Jamilah has a garden, even if I did all the work putting the plants in.” He waited. Miller was staring straight ahead, so I asked the question Jason seemed to be waiting for.
“And how are things with you and Jamilah?”
He sighed. “Hard to say. Jamilah’s a very high-maintenance woman. I mean, I don’t know what she wants. She’s always looking at me like I’m a huge disappointment, but when I try to talk, she won’t say anything. You can’t win for losing at this marriage game. I mean, she says I need to take more responsibility, but she won’t say at what. You know what I miss? Having fun together. Not to mention sex. When did sex become such a chore for her? Let me tell you, her head almost exploded when I said that. Is that such a crime? I’m telling you, it’s a game. A game that’s fucking rigged against you.”
Well. That was quite the outpouring.
“I’m gonna go find Tess,” Miller said. “Nice talking to you both.”
He left, and I turned to Jason. “Hey. Idiot. His wife is dead.”
Jason closed his eyes. “Fuck.”
“Yes! Maybe now isn’t the time to bitch about your perfectly perfect wife. And in front of me, no less.”
“Why not in front of you?”
I may have growled. “Because I thought you and I were going to get married, Jason. Remember? We had plans.”
“Yeah, well, we were kids, Emma. We were eighteen. How often does that work out?” He patted my hand, and I jerked it away.
“Did you ever really think we’d end up together?” I asked. “Because I did. I know we were young, but I . . . yeah. I thought we’d make it.” It still caused a weird pressure in my chest to think about those early years of parenthood, when the little house with the blue couch fantasy had been my lifeline.
Jason ran a hand through his hair. “I think I was too young. You were more mature.”
“I had to be.”
“I know. And, Emma, you’ve been the best mother. You are the best mother. I can’t tell you how much I see that, and how much I appreciate it. Really. Riley is incredible, and it’s all because of you.”
“You’re right.” Remembering my old promise not to spar with my child’s father, I took a few breaths and a pull of my drink. “I thought you and Miller were closer.”
“Well, we were. Sort of. When Ash died, he just closed himself off.”
&n
bsp; “I’m sure it was devastating.”
“It was.”
I hesitated. “How did she die?”
Jason sighed. “Something went wrong during the delivery. She died before the baby was even out.”
“God.” My eyes filled with tears. “Does he have help? A girlfriend or anything?”
“I don’t think so. Ashley’s parents are around and they help out a lot. He had a nanny for a while.”
“He seems lonely.”
“He is.”
“Do you guys go out, ever? Do you have him over for dinner? I’d hope that your parents would—”
“We try! We’re not monsters. Jamilah and I gave him a ton of stuff the boys had outgrown. One of those baby knapsacks, the highchair . . .”
“There you are,” Genevieve said, her tone frosty. “Emma, Saanvi wanted to speak with you. If you’re not too busy.”
“Not at all,” I said, getting up and coming back inside.
It was darker now, and the lights were on in the house, low and tasteful. In the fireplace, white candles flickered, and Shaylee was making the rounds with another tray of food.
“Emma,” Saanvi said, “your grandmother said you’re a therapist. I consult at Rose Hill, and we are looking for a family counselor, as ours went out on paternity leave. Part-time, but perhaps you would consider looking into it?”
Genevieve pulled her head in, disapproval radiating from her.
Whatever. “I did an internship with children and family systems at Lurie Children’s Hospital in Chicago,” I said. “I’d have to think about it, since obviously I have a personal relationship with the place. But thank you for the tip.”
“Wonderful,” Saanvi said warmly. “I am not on the search committee, but I’ll suggest your name to the director, whom I assume you already know.”
“Of course,” I said. “I visit as often as I can.”
“Your sister is lovely,” she said, smiling. “I’m afraid we must be off, Genevieve, but as always, it is so wonderful to see you. Thank you for your hospitality. You must come for dinner this week. You too, Emma, and your charming daughter. No excuses this time, Genevieve. We are all busy women but we must eat.”
Oh, I liked her.
She called up the front staircase, and a second later, her son came gallumphing down, all legs and arms. Soon after, Riley did as well, Tess holding her hand. Riley looked away when I gave her the is he nice? look, but her cheeks turned pink.
So he was nice. Thank God.
Miller followed behind them.
Cocktail hour was breaking up; the other guests whose names I hadn’t quite gotten were saying goodbye, and Pop gave me a chin jerk and motioned that he’d call me. The Talwar family left after securing a dinner date, Saanvi reminding me to call Rose Hill. Jason left, too, getting a frosty nod from Genevieve, who then swept into another room, disapproval thick as oatmeal.
Interesting that Genevieve hadn’t mentioned the position to me. I was sure she knew about it. She was on the board of directors.
“Time to go home, Tess,” Miller said, reaching for her.
Tess jerked back, and almost fell, but Riley caught her just in time.
“No! No, Daddy, no!” she screamed, wrapping herself around Riley. “I hate you! I want to stay! No!”
“Enough, Tess,” he said firmly, prying her arms off my child’s legs.
“Time to go with Daddy,” Riley said.
“No! No! No!”
After a minute, Miller and I got Tess off of Riley. “Bye, Tessie,” my daughter said. “Don’t be sad! I’ll come play with you again.”
Tess’s screams were reaching 911 level. “I’m just gonna leave,” Miller said over the noise. “Please tell Genevieve thank you for me.”
“Take care,” I said as he tried to keep Tess from kicking and biting him. I closed the door after them, her screams fading as he walked across the lawn.
“Yikes,” Riley said. “My ears are ringing.”
“Me too. Thank you for never being like that.”
“Aw, she’s sweet. I mean, until now, she was sweet. Well, sweet’s not the right word. But she’s so funny, Mommy. She loved hiding on Rav and me, and we had to pretend not to see her little legs sticking out from under the pillows. I tried to brush her hair a little, but we didn’t get too far.”
“And how’s Rav? He seemed nice.”
“He is. Don’t get that look. He’s nice, and he’s a dork who plays video games and gets straight As.”
“Sounds hauntingly familiar.”
“He might help me on a project, if that’s okay.”
“What project is that?”
“Um, a summer thing.”
“For school?”
“Kind of. Extra credit.”
Teenagers needed their privacy, I knew. Still, I hated when there was stuff I didn’t know. “So long as I know where you are at all times, there’s at least one adult in the house with you, doors open, no bedrooms, phone check-ins every half hour.”
“And of course we’ll both wear our chastity belts.” She pulled a mock-serious face. “You sound slightly suspicious, Mother.”
“It’s the checklist they gave us in Mommy School.”
“He just seems nice, that’s all. It’s refreshing to talk to someone born in this millennium.”
“Oh, burn,” I said.
“It’s so cute when you try to be cool, Mom. That word is really passé, by the way. I’m going to my room to read, okay? I’ll say good night now.” She hugged me, and I breathed in her sunshiny smell, my heart vibrating with love and relief. The dark cloud that had shrouded her this past winter and spring seemed to have truly evaporated.
And Genevieve was—for now—surprisingly good for her. I watched as Riley went into the living room, where Donelle and Gigi sat, fresh drinks in their hands. They had the livers of Ernest Hemingway. Well. Genevieve did. I swear they taught cocktail consumption at Foxcroft. Donelle was a bit looser, a bit more giggly.
Riley kissed them both on the cheek and said a few words, and they both gazed after her as she left the room.
“Don’t skulk there in the hall spying, Emma,” Genevieve said. “Join us.”
I did, curling up on the velvet armchair. “You have nice friends,” I said.
“Don’t sound so surprised. And please get your feet off the chair.”
With a pointed sigh, I obeyed.
“Why are you always picking fights with her?” Donelle asked. “Give her a break, Gen.”
“Who invited Jason?” Genevieve snapped, ignoring her. “Your grandfather is one thing. Your impregnator is another. He ruined your life. I don’t want him as a guest in my home. Especially after the way his mother treated you. Such a climber, that woman.”
“First of all,” I said, my voice tight, “if Riley’s father isn’t welcome here, you’re going to have to be the one to tell her. Secondly, he didn’t ruin my life. He gave me Riley, who is everything to me, and someone even you seem to care about. And thirdly, I agree with you about Courtney, but she was taking her cues from you, Genevieve. You kicked me out first, after all.”
“Boom,” said Donelle. “She got you there, Gen.”
“You needed to learn a thing or two,” she said.
“And lastly, though you seem damn healthy to me, you’re allegedly dying. You’ve been playing with me for weeks now. I want to talk to your doctor, and if you don’t sign over Hope’s guardianship by the end of the week, Riley and I are going back home.”
“This is your home.”
“No, Genevieve, it’s not. You made sure of that. Now, I’m going for a walk,” I said. “Good night, Donelle. Genevieve, sleep well in your casket.”
Donelle cackled. “Casket! Like you’re a vampire, Gen. You’re funny, Emma.”
“You so enjoy judgin
g me, don’t you, Emma?” Genevieve said, her voice deceptively calm. “And yet I took you in after your mother killed herself and your father didn’t want you, and those other grandparents with whom you wanted to stay were too overwhelmed. I gave you every opportunity, and you threw it out the window in order to have sex with some ridiculous, shallow boy. I did nothing wrong.”
Where had that speech come from? The honest emotion in it seemed out of character for my grandmother. Had she really forgotten what she said? How she had all but cursed me? I looked at her for a long moment. Was there a point in arguing with her? Would she really care about anything I had to say? Should I try now, while Donelle was idly peeling her moldy toenail and holding shards of it up to the light?
“Well?” my grandmother said. “Speak your mind or take your walk.”
“I just wanted you to love me, Gigi,” I said, surprising myself with the words.
“Love is overrated,” she said.
I took a slow breath. “It’s ironic,” I said. “You lost a child, and years later, you were given one. I wasn’t Sheppard, but I was scared and lost and afraid, just the way he was.”
“Do not bring up my son,” she hissed.
I let the silence sit there until she finally looked away.
“I’ll take that walk now,” I said. “Good night.”
CHAPTER 22
Emma
I remembered some things about the day my mother died with perfect recall. It was raining, and I finally got to use my new umbrella—pale pink with hundreds of brilliant butterflies and flowers on it. My mom had bought it for me as a going-back-to-school present, and then it didn’t rain for twenty-seven days. Otherwise, third grade had been perfect so far, and I’d already gone on three playdates and I sat with the nice girls every single lunch and was learning double Dutch at recess.
Then, finally, it did rain, and I always wondered if the rain was connected somehow to what happened later. I woke up that morning elated, the rain hissing through the leaves outside my window. Everything was normal; Daddy was away, and Mommy let me have Cap’n Crunch for breakfast and didn’t even make me eat a banana. I remembered that she zipped up my raincoat and handed me my backpack. “And don’t forget your pretty umbrella!” she said. She hugged me extra long. Or maybe I made that part up. Maybe I just hoped she hugged me extra long.
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