by Elena Graf
Liz gave the counter a quick pat. “Thanks for holding down the fort. Have a great turkey day.”
“Jeanine is on this weekend,” Ginny reminded her.
“I know,” Liz called over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
Liz had organized her schedule so that she could take Maggie to York for her radiation treatments. This was the last. Afterward, they would head to Nathan’s both to celebrate and enjoy their last quiet evening before their guests arrived. To their surprise, everyone they’d invited for Thanksgiving had accepted. Liz’s brother, Robert, was bringing their mother up from New York. Maggie’s daughters were coming, but at least this time they’d planned a reasonable itinerary and were renting a car at Logan. Alina was bringing along her husband and their daughter. Tony and Fred had also accepted the invitation.
As Liz drove home, she reflected that the guest list would certainly make for an interesting mix of characters. Maggie had begun writing a play about a woman coming out in her sixties. Maybe she could find some inspiration in this motley crew. Tony doubted the play would ever have a wide audience but had promised to consider it for the Short Plays Festival at the State Theater. Maggie had also been invited, at Tony’s instigation, to teach as an adjunct at the University of New England. She hadn’t accepted yet, but she was seriously considering it. Liz hoped she would take the post because it would give Maggie another anchor in Hobbs.
Liz turned into the driveway. As soon as her headlights hit the house, Maggie came out the front door. She looked smart in a wool dress and her best winter coat. “Hello there, Lover,” she said, getting into the car. She kissed Liz. “Last one. Thank God!”
“I’m sure it’s a relief to have this part behind you.”
“I’ll be glad when it’s all over.”
“You’ll probably be on Tamoxifen for a while.”
“That’s not so bad,” Maggie replied cheerfully. “Just a pill in the morning.”
Maggie’s treatment options had become limited when the FISH test predicted she wouldn’t be a good candidate for Herceptin. Liz had mixed feelings because she always felt that, where cancer was concerned, the more weapons in the arsenal, the better.
While Liz waited for Maggie, she chatted with Alyson, but as soon as the timer on her watch sounded, she headed straight to the nuclear medicine waiting room.
Maggie was beaming when she emerged through the double doors. “All done!”
Despite all the people in the waiting room, including a few of her patients, Liz put her arms around Maggie. “Congratulations!” When Liz looked up, she saw that everyone was smiling at them.
Maggie wanted to celebrate at Nathan’s because it was the scene of their first official “date.” Liz, who liked to try new places, would have preferred to go elsewhere, but she felt nostalgic when they were seated at the same table as the night of the Judy Collins concert.
Liz admired Maggie across the table, secretly proud to be with such an attractive woman. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“No, but your eyes told me,” Maggie gave her warm smile. “You look pretty good yourself. I like it when you dress up for me.”
“It’s a special occasion.”
Maggie smiled and patted Liz’s hand. “You’re always finding special occasions, Liz. Any excuse to cook a special meal or open an expensive bottle of wine.”
“Why not? Life is short.”
A shadow passed over Maggie’s face. “Let’s not bandy about that particular sentiment. I’m still a little sensitive on that topic.”
“Of course.” Liz compressed her lips. “I’m sorry.”
The waiter brought the elderberry martinis they’d ordered, and Liz raised her glass. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you.” Maggie tasted her drink. “I’m not a big martini fan, but these are so good!”
“The tourists love this emphasis on local ingredients,” said Liz. “And I have to admit, I’m not immune to the hype. You’ll be sampling some of our best local produce on Thanksgiving.”
“Yes, I’ve seen you sneaking in your bags of goodies…your private stash out there on the screen porch. That squash is the size of a toddler!”
“The rind of a Blue Hubbard is so thick, you have to cut it with an axe.”
Maggie looked skeptical. “That’s just one of those Maine tall tales.”
“I’m not kidding. I’ll show you tomorrow. I picked a big one because we need a lot of food for all those people.”
“You should be flattered the girls want to spend Thanksgiving with us.”
“I am, of course, but they’re really coming to see you.”
A shadow passed in Maggie’s face. “This is the first time in years. The girls almost never come for holidays.”
“Really?” asked Liz, surprised. “Why not?”
“Barry and I had joint custody. In the beginning, they mostly lived with me because they were still in school. I kept the house until they were in college. After I moved to New York, it was tough competition—Barry’s big house in Palo Alto, his trophy wife cooking perfect food. Then there was my place—a cramped apartment in the Village with a tiny kitchen.”
“They can’t be that shallow, can they?”
“It was my mother. She stopped inviting us for holidays because Barry and I were separated and planning to divorce. That was a scandal. You don’t get divorced in an Irish Catholic family.”
“Why didn’t your father step up? Or your siblings?”
“Mom ruled the roost. If she said I was the black sheep in the family, I was, so they ostracized me.”
“That’s incredible! Barry was at fault. He’s the one who had the affair.”
“I know, but my mother didn’t see it that way. She thought it was my fault that I couldn’t hold my husband’s attention.”
“Why didn’t you explain about male menopause?”
“Oh really, Liz. She would never understand. She was married to my father until the day he died.”
“So, you married a man you really didn’t love, got shafted by him, and she still disapproved?”
Maggie nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“It’s so unfair.”
“I know, and it never ends. My mother has been dead for over five years, but I can still feel her disapproval. When I realized we were heading for a relationship, I could hear her voice in my head: ‘Stay away from that girl.’ She would be so upset to know we’re back together.”
Liz nodded. “I’m sure my mother’s not overjoyed either, although she hadn’t said anything…yet.” She sighed. “How is it that we’re old enough to be grandmothers, and our mothers still occupy so much space in our heads?”
Chapter 31
Liz took the day before Thanksgiving off. She rose at dawn and went straight to work on the food preparations. Maggie had gotten up early too because the enormous Blue Hubbard squash had to go into the oven early, and she wanted to watch Liz prove that it had to be opened with an axe. Shivering, Maggie stood on the deck while Liz cracked the squash into sections with a hatchet she reserved solely for the purpose. “One of my most specialized food utensils.”
In the kitchen, Maggie scooped out the seeds from the orange flesh to toast with spices while the squash roasted. It would take most of the day, but the heat from the stove was welcome because the weather had turned cold enough for snow flurries.
The squash was done just in time for Maggie to get her pies in the oven before the first round of guests arrived.
Liz’s brother, Robert helped his mother into the house. “Smells good in here,” Monica announced. “Someone has apple pie in the oven.”
“It’s Maggie.” Liz took her mother’s coat from her. “She’s making the pies.”
“I’m glad she’s doing something to help you.” Monica’s tone was tart and she frowned in Maggie’s direct
ion.
Maggie shot Liz a quizzical look. Liz just shook her head. She never knew what would come out of her mother’s mouth, but where her partners were concerned, it was almost never good.
While Liz scooped the cooked squash out of the shell to process for soup, Maggie helped get Liz’s mother settled into the downstairs guest room. Afterwards, she entertained Robert and Monica in the living room. Liz prepared the brine for the turkeys and set them out on the porch, which had become a makeshift refrigerator to hold all the extra food.
As a foil to the next day’s orgy of poultry, Maggie had prepared two big trays of lasagna to feed the crowd, but once her daughters and granddaughter arrived, Maggie was distracted. Fortunately, Liz managed to remember to put the lasagna in the oven in time. She was glad to hear the chorus of praise, especially from Maggie’s daughters, now that she’d heard the sad history of their holiday celebrations.
***
On Thursday morning, everyone crowded in the kitchen. Monica was cutting the red cabbage, wearing the surgical gloves Liz had provided so her hands wouldn’t turn purple. Maggie’s daughters were assigned to peeling and chopping the vegetables. Robert hauled the turkeys out of the brining solution and trussed them for smoking on the grill, while Liz kept an eye on her cranberry sauce bubbling on the stove and made the stuffing.
Maggie was in charge of appetizers and entertaining everyone during dinner preparation. More guests arrived. Although Tony and Fred could be flamboyant at times, they made a charming and witty addition to the guest list. They could talk about anything from movies to national politics. Tony’s comic impersonations of famous actresses were irresistibly funny. Even Robert, who was a Harley-riding, deer-hunting traditional male, couldn’t resist laughing.
Liz had to leave the gathering from time to time to check on the turkeys. Depending on the weather, the temperature in the grill could be hard to control. The colder outside, the longer it took to cook the birds. Fortunately, the day had warmed to a pleasant crispness, and the turkeys were done right on time.
Liz carved one turkey while Robert carved the other, and Maggie finished the gravy. Liz breathed an enormous sigh of relief when everything came to the table at the same time. The only football fan in the group, Maggie’s son-in-law responded to repeated demands to tear himself away from the game and showed up just as everyone was sitting down.
With so many helpers, kitchen cleanup was quick. The guests sat in the living room to enjoy their food comas and watch The Wizard of Oz, while Maggie and Liz got the pies ready to serve.
“I think this is the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had,” said Maggie, setting out the tubs of ice cream on the counter to soften.
“Oh, you must have fond memories of Thanksgiving when you were young.”
“Yes, of course, I do, but my mother was never the great cook Monica is, so the meal was never this spectacular. You certainly outdid yourself.” Maggie checked to make sure everyone was occupied, then kissed Liz. “Thank you for inviting my girls.”
“I hope they’re having a good time.”
“Sophia told me it’s the best Thanksgiving ever.”
Katrina came into the kitchen and tugged at Maggie’s skirt and raised her arms. “I’m sorry, Sweetie, but Grandma has a hurt and can’t pick you up right now.”
Liz gave her a quick critical assessment followed by a look of sympathy. “Still sore? Radiation is hard on the skin.”
Maggie nodded. “The baby doesn’t understand. She squirms and it really stings.”
Liz looked down at the dark-haired toddler, who was pouting. “Will you come to me, Katrina?” Liz knelt and reached out for her. The little girl clung to her grandmother’s legs with a suspicious look. “Please?” begged Liz. The child smiled shyly and nodded. Liz hauled her up to her hip. “I know,” said Liz in response to Maggie’s look of surprise. “Kids like me. Go figure. But it comes in handy for a family doc.”
The party was still going strong when Monica signaled to her daughter that she was ready to go to bed. Liz accompanied her mother to the downstairs guest room to lay out towels for her and turn back the bed. She lowered the hand shower on the rod.
“Was dinner okay, Mom?” Liz lifted Monica’s bag to the luggage stand so she could reach the contents more easily.
“Everything was delicious, dear.”
“I’m so glad I had Maggie’s help. It made everything so much easier.”
Monica turned and gave Liz a firm look. “Yes, she’s certainly made herself at home here.”
Liz was startled at first. She studied her mother with an uneasy feeling as she waited for what might come next. “She’s doing her treatments up here so I can oversee them.”
“You’d better watch out, Elizabeth.”
“Watch out for what?”
“She couldn’t be bothered with you when you were young. Now that you’ve made something of yourself and have some money, she shows up.”
Liz straightened to her full height, which dwarfed her mother. Her mother stood straight too, not to be outdone.
“Maggie didn’t ‘show up,’ Mom. She had an accident and came to my office for treatment.”
“Likely story.”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t trust her. She’s only here because she needs you to take care of her.”
“That’s not true.” Despite her anger, Liz tried to modulate her voice.
“And she now has her kids parked here too.”
“They’re only visiting for a few days. I invited them.”
“Uh huh.”
“Mom, can’t you be nice to my friends for a change?”
“Just be careful.” Monica’s tone held a strong note of warning.
Liz swallowed her anger. “Do you need anything else, Mom?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be fine,” Monica said in her most pitiful martyr’s voice. “You go back to your guests.”
Chapter 32
With visitors, Liz could be as upbeat and cheerful as a camp counselor, but around her mother the next day, she was terse and standoffish. Only Maggie noticed something amiss. She was glad when Monica and Robert left on Friday morning at first light. The farewells were cold and strained, leaving Maggie to wonder what had transpired between mother and daughter. Liz had volunteered to open the office, so any extended conversation would have to wait.
On Saturday, Maggie’s daughters departed in their rented van for the airport after a leisurely breakfast. She was sad to see them go, especially Katrina, the adorable little one, who had stolen her heart. She wouldn’t see them at Christmas because the girls had promised Barry they would spend the holiday in California. Maggie would miss them, but the idea of a quiet Christmas alone with Liz was appealing. Maybe they would have snow. The flurries on Thanksgiving Day had been a tantalizing harbinger of the Maine winter. Maggie imagined the yard covered in a white blanket, snowflakes gently falling, as she and Liz watched from the porch, listening to Christmas carols and drinking mulled wine.
The only thing spoiling Maggie’s dream of the perfect Christmas card was Liz’s moody introspection, which persisted after she came home from the office that afternoon and through dinner. She spent most of the weekend in her home office, glued to spreadsheets on her computer screen because year-end filings were fast approaching. At least, that’s what she said. Most of the time, Liz was an open book. She said exactly what was on her mind, not as hurtfully nor as tactlessly as when they were young, but she was usually forthcoming, so her silence puzzled Maggie.
When they were in bed, Liz lay with her hands clasped behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Maggie, beside her, debated whether to probe the reason for Liz’s withdrawal. “Liz, what happened between you and your mother?” Maggie finally asked.
“Nothing important.”
“I don’t believe you. You’ve been in quite a mood since sh
e left.”
There was a long silence before Liz spoke. “It’s my problem. I’ll deal with it.” Liz rolled over and gave Maggie her back.
Maggie tugged at her shoulder, but she wouldn’t budge. “You’ve made it our problem. Now, tell me.”
“No. Go to sleep.”
Maggie sighed. “Please, talk to me.”
“No. It’s been a very busy weekend, and I’m exhausted. I have to get up early tomorrow and need to sleep.” Liz pulled the duvet up to her chin.
Maggie crept closer for warmth, but didn’t dare touch her.
She was relieved when Liz tenderly kissed her temple as she always did before she left in the morning. Most mornings, Maggie pretended to be asleep, but today, she opened her eyes.
“Come back and give me a real kiss.”
Liz let out a big sigh, but she returned and kissed Maggie, on the lips this time. “I’m sorry about last night. My mother can really get under my skin.” She gently stroked Maggie’s cheek with her fingertips. “How about we go out to dinner tonight? I need to talk to you about a few things.”
“But we have all that turkey.”
“It will keep. Besides, I’m sick of turkey. Aren’t you?”
“I’ll make some turkey pies today and put them in the freezer. We’ll be glad for them on busy nights during the winter, when you’re rushing off to one of your meetings.”
“Smart,” Liz agreed.
After Liz left, Maggie felt cold. She pulled up her knees and hugged herself in an attempt to get warm. She sensed that whatever Liz’s mother had said had introduced doubt into something that had once seemed so sure, so reliable, and unquestioned. Why now when Maggie needed to believe in it so much? It was lonely enough living with cancer.
Maggie’s mind would give her no peace. She tried to keep herself busy by making the turkey pies. She chopped mountains of carrots, celery and onions. The whole kitchen smelled of them. After the pies were in the freezer, Maggie cleaned up the kitchen. Ellie was coming the next day. After the initial embarrassment at having Ellie discover the disaster in her room, Maggie was careful never to leave a mess for her again.
