CHAPTER TWO
Walk or cab it? Or wait for a bus? Tabitha was pretty sure she wasn’t going to get reimbursed or paid for this—whatever it was. A job? No, not a job. She was still going to have to get a job, obviously. She certainly wasn’t certified to do this and briefly wondered if she could possibly do more harm than good. She shook that off and decided to walk; she didn’t want this detour to cost her money. Besides, if she took her time, there was the chance someone else would have arrived by the time she got there. That would be the best-case scenario.
Two blocks away from Nora’s building her phone rang. She had that moment of grabbing for her phone, hoping it wasn’t about one of the kids, then thinking hopefully it might be Kirk Hutchins calling her back. It was her best friend, Rachel.
“Hey, Rach,” she said, slowing down—she hated talking in indoor public places: coffee shops, stores, lobbies—and would rather walk around the block five times instead to complete the conversation.
“I have a good one,” Rachel said.
“A good what?”
“Joke!”
“Oh, okay—lay it on me,” Tabitha said.
“What do you call a cow that just gave birth?”
“I don’t know, what? Happy? Full of milk?”
“No! Decaffeinated!”
Tabitha laughed. “That’s pretty funny,” she said. “Another one in your cheese-joke arsenal?”
“Well, I have to say something while the customers are tasting and browsing,” she said, referring to her job as head cheesemonger at Di Bruno Bros., a gourmet market near Rittenhouse Square.
“No you don’t,” Tabitha said, walking past the lobby entrance to the building. If she kept going she could be home in ten minutes.
“Well, anyway,” Rachel said. “Where were you this morning? I thought you were coming to yoga.”
Tabitha stopped walking. She’d completely forgotten. Usually she would text Rachel with an excuse, to avoid any questions. It wasn’t like Tabitha to just not show up.
“Oh, sorry, I had a dentist appointment,” she said casually. “I started having this awful feeling on the top of one of my bottom teeth, so I wanted to have it looked at.”
“What did they say? Did you need X-rays? I know how you always refuse them.”
“Oh, well, actually the X-ray machine was down, so now I have to go back. They didn’t say much.” Tabitha was a terrible liar.
“You missed a great class,” Rachel said. “Maybe the best one yet. How about tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” Tabitha said. She still had a reserve of six classes already paid for before she had to reenroll. She wanted to save them. But yoga did sound good.
Tabitha was now at the halfway point between Nora’s building and her apartment. If she didn’t turn back, she’d be home before she knew it, and then she’d never go. She stopped and glanced at the file again, pushed it open, and saw NORA BARTON. She turned around and headed back toward Nora.
“Are you there?” Rachel asked, clearly annoyed. “Did you hear what I said?”
“About yoga?”
“No, about the tasting.”
“Oh, a tasting?” Tabitha asked, trying not to sound too excited.
“Yes, I said we’re doing a goat tasting tonight at six, bring the kids. We’ll have cheese and crackers but also other stuff: goat-cheese crepes, mini goat-cheese sliders. Can you come?”
“We’ll be there,” Tabitha said, sounding more enthusiastic than she meant to. She was hoping to have a chance to stop by Rachel’s apartment to pilfer some dish soap, but a free dinner was better, much better. She didn’t want to sound too eager, though, or Rachel was going to really start to wonder about her. “Let me just check with the kids and I’ll call you back.”
“Sounds good,” Rachel said.
Tabitha tried not to think about her mother, or those horrible last three days of her mother’s life, as she trudged back along the same path she had just walked. Instead, she kept her eyes on the storefronts, always thinking about what might be there for the taking—not shoplifting, of course—but what she was starting to think of as “light stealing.” Not much, she realized as she got close to the building. It was huge. There must have been at least two hundred apartments, maybe more. She had walked by this place so many times but never had a reason to go inside. She entered the lobby, which reminded her of a shabby hotel. There were people sitting in various places, many of them on the older side, and she wondered if Nora could be here. She wouldn’t know Nora if she tripped on her. She walked over to the desk. She was glad Nora didn’t have a complicated last name that she would have to pretend to know how to pronounce.
“I’m here to care for Nora Barton,” she said when the man smiled at her. She was ready with a million excuses—Her usual nurse is out sick today. I’m from a different agency. Her son hired me—but she didn’t need any of them.
“You know where she is?” he asked.
Tabitha knew it was listed in the file, so she opened it and looked, not sure if that made her look more official or less, and even more unsure why she cared so much.
“Yes, I see here she’s on the second floor, apartment 206.”
“Elevator’s over there,” he said, pointing. “As far as I know, her door is always open.”
Huh. That didn’t seem safe, but maybe necessary?
“Thanks.”
She took the elevator to the second floor and walked out directly toward Nora’s apartment. It was right across from the elevator. Now that she was here she wanted to leave. This was crazy. This Nora was not her mother. She was not her responsibility. She was a stranger who would probably die soon anyway. She turned around and hit the “down” button for the elevator. But then she had an idea. Nora probably had dish soap. If she was sitting on the floor thinking she was a teenager having a picnic, it might not be that hard to take. No, she told herself. That was the lowest Tabitha had sunk yet. And even if she wrote it on her list to repay one day, Nora might not live long enough to be repaid.
When she turned back and put her hand on the doorknob, she told herself she was curious and wanted to see if there was anything she could do for Nora since she was here anyway, which was all true. The dish soap need was true, too, but she would get it some other way. She knocked lightly before turning the knob.
“Hello?” she called. She opened the door slowly, expecting to find some awful scene, but she was hit with the sweet smell of something baking. “Hello?” she called again.
“In here, dear,” a voice called.
“Nora?”
“In here, dear,” the voice said again.
Tabitha closed the door behind her, wondering if maybe someone else had gotten here to help since she’d left the Home Comforts office. She followed the smell and came upon a bright kitchen, more from the lights inside than the sun outside, and a woman standing at the stove holding a small muffin pan with six muffins.
“Would you like a cranberry muffin, dear?” the woman asked, not seeming to be at all surprised by the stranger who had just arrived at her apartment.
“Nora?” Tabitha asked slowly.
“You found me!” the woman said. Tabitha couldn’t believe Nora was fully dressed, hair in place, baking—not sitting on the floor thinking it was sixty years ago.
“I’m Tabitha,” she said. “The agency . . .”
“Yes, yes I know,” she said. “They called to say someone new was coming today. What took you so long?”
Tabitha expected someone to come out from behind a door or sweep in from another room and tell her it was all a big joke, some reality-based television show about people who were looking for jobs and how far they were willing to go. Or maybe it was an attempt to catch people at their most desperate. Tabitha would be a good candidate for either of those setups.
“Come in, come in,” Nora said, leading her into a big living room. A large table close to the window was beautifully set for two with china, a teapot, and a light-blue tablecloth. Nora seemed quite sturdy on her feet, and Tabitha continued to wonder what the heck was going on. But the muffins smelled so good, and she hadn’t had anything yet besides the coffee. So she followed Nora to the table and dutifully sat down. She looked around the room and wondered where Nora sat when she thought there was a picnic going on. The room was tidy and clean. There didn’t seem to be a single thing out of place. There were no pill bottles or pillows or even a rumpled throw blanket for that matter.
Nora handed Tabitha a muffin, which she ate in four bites. Then she handed her another one, pouring tea while Tabitha gobbled that one up, too.
“Aren’t you going to have one?” Tabitha asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Oh no, I made these for you,” she said. “Plus I have a bit of a headache.”
Oh, okay, a headache. At least one thing went along with what Tabitha read in Nora’s file.
“Can I get you anything?” Tabitha asked. “Maybe some Advil?”
“Yes dear, that would be lovely,” Nora said, leaning back and closing her eyes. “On the kitchen counter please. Then we can play a game!” She opened her eyes and smiled.
Tabitha found the Advil just where Nora said it would be. She reached for a glass on an open shelf and saw the oven was still on. She turned it off. At least she was helping in some way. She poured out two Advil into her palm, wondering if she should slip two into her own pocket. That way she would have enough Advil to get through six headaches. But she didn’t. Instead, she placed the bottle back on the counter, filled the glass with water from the tap, and went back to find Nora.
A Monopoly game was open and waiting for her. Nora did that quickly. Tabitha didn’t particularly like Monopoly, but Nora seemed sweet. She could play for a few minutes. As she got closer, she saw stacks of money that didn’t look like the usual Monopoly money—it looked much more real. Did Nora replace the fake money with more realistic fake money? But as she got even closer, it looked very real, so real that Tabitha thought it might be actual money: stacks and stacks of real money next to the Monopoly board. Then she saw five-hundred-dollar bills. Do they even exist? she wondered.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, handing Nora the pills and glass and going into the kitchen to google “$500 bills.” She learned they do exist, but haven’t been printed since 1945. She went back in and looked again at the game. The money was all still there: ones, fives, tens, twenties, fifties, one-hundred-dollar bills, and five-hundred-dollar bills.
“Can I fill your bank, dear?” Nora asked.
“Fill my bank?” Tabitha asked. She had to get out of there. Nora seemed fine. She was happy, now she’d had her Advil, the oven was off. “I have to go.”
“No, dear, please play a little,” Nora said, and for the first time Tabitha heard something other than playfulness in her voice. Sadness? Hopelessness? It sounded awfully familiar.
“Okay, just a little,” Tabitha said, taking a seat across the board from Nora. It was all set up with the Scottie-dog piece ready to play on the Go space and the rest in a pile waiting for Tabitha to choose. She reached for the thimble. She felt she needed protection of some kind and this seemed like the best choice.
“I’ll go first,” Nora said, rolling the dice.
Tabitha couldn’t stop looking at the money. She knew there should be fifteen-hundred dollars in front of her, if Nora had counted right. She fingered the dollar bills then went to the far left of her stash and picked up a five-hundred-dollar bill. It looked funny to her. Real but unreal. How hard would it be to take it? To drop two bills on the floor and come back up with only one, after pushing the other one into her shoe? Would Nora notice? Five hundred dollars would buy a lot of everything bagels. But then again, was there any way to spend a five-hundred-dollar bill today? Was that part of the setup?
“Your turn, dear,” Nora said.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” Tabitha said quickly, standing up too fast and jostling the board. Nora’s dog fell over onto its side.
“Okay, dear,” Nora said matter-of-factly, righting the dog. For a very brief second, Tabitha felt slighted that Nora didn’t ask her to play for just a little while longer, that she didn’t seem to care anymore if Tabitha stayed or went, but then she told herself again that this was not her mother. Her mother was gone.
“Come back soon, dear,” Nora called, picking up the dice and rolling. She moved the Scottie forward.
“Thank you,” Tabitha said. “Thanks for the muffins.”
“Speaking of,” Nora said. “Please take the rest. I can’t stand cranberries.”
Tabitha hesitated, then went back to the table and lifted the muffin pan, which she could see was disposable.
“Take the whole thing,” Nora said.
Tabitha hesitated again, even looked over her shoulder, wondering if there were cameras capturing this exchange. “Will she or won’t she take the muffins?” A television host was whispering into the microphone in a control room somewhere. “Well, folks, she takes the muffins. That’s how desperate she is. But at least she didn’t take the money.”
“Thanks again, Nora,” she said.
She pulled the door closed and leaned against the wall while she waited for the elevator. She had to get a grip. Offered muffins were one thing, money was an entirely different animal. That could have been bad.
“What’s for dinner?” Fern asked the minute she saw Tabitha in the schoolyard. She must be so hungry. Tabitha presented her with the muffin tin, four big cranberry muffins. Fern’s eyes went wide, and kids swarmed around them, as they always did when there was food in a schoolyard. Tabitha had the urge to aggressively push them away. But Fern was parceling out the muffins, and the kids were cheering and skipping off. In the end, Fern had just one muffin to herself, and it took all of Tabitha’s energy to not grab them all back.
“So what’s for dinner?” Fern asked again in between crumbly bites. Her question didn’t sound as urgent as it had a few minutes before.
“All things goat cheese,” she answered, pushing Fern’s hair out of her eyes.
“At home?” Fern asked.
“No, at Aunt Rachel’s store,” she said.
“Oh, that reminds me, they need you to bring a snack tomorrow. They want a cheese plate,” Fern said. “With some nondairy alternatives.”
If that weren’t such an impossible request, Tabitha would have laughed. With some nondairy alternatives? Why do a cheese plate in the first place?
“I’ll be right back,” Tabitha said, leaving Fern in the yard.
She went through the school’s front door and stepped into the lobby, feeling normal for the first time all day. Here she was just Tabitha Brewer, Fern and Levi’s mom. She was not the poor little rich girl she now felt like out in the world or the recently abandoned wife.
“Tabitha!” Julie called to her. Julie was the head of the parents’ association, one year into her two-year term. It seemed to Tabitha to be the most thankless job out there. Sure, she was acknowledged at all the meetings and luncheons, but really, she didn’t get paid and she spent her days trying to find volunteers to help her with events that most people could live without.
“Julie!” Tabitha said back, hoping she sounded nicer than she felt.
“Did Fern tell you we need a cheese plate for the parent reception tomorrow? It’s at lunch, after the string ensemble concert. I don’t know how many parents will be present, hopefully a bunch, so make it nice, and make it feel like a meal. Okay? Baguettes are always a good addition, some fruit. Oh, and there has to be something for those who can’t tolerate the dairy—hummus maybe?”
Tabitha just stared at her. Last year at this time she would have marched into Di Bruno Bros. and gathered all of that and more, charging whatever it cost—$100? $150?—to her credit card without a thought, telling herself it was a donation to the school. Now it felt like Julie was asking her to go to the moon and collect some moon rocks to bring back in time for lunch tomorrow.
“I’m so sorry—” she said, just as Julie spotted another potential target.
“Judy!” Julie called, even though Tabitha was in midsentence. Can Judy gather the cheese plate? Tabitha wondered.
“Thanks,” Julie said back to Tabitha, as she walked over to Judy. Tabitha listened while she asked Judy if she could provide breakfast for the teachers during conferences next month, “Preferably something homemade.”
Tabitha wandered back toward Fern. She knew almost every single adult she passed. Both Fern and Levi had been going to Larchwood since preschool, and that gave Tabitha great comfort. Of course, no one at the school had any idea what was going on. Would it be so bad to ask for help? She even turned slightly toward Esther, the warm third-grade teacher. Esther would never judge, she would help. If she knew what Tabitha was dealing with, Esther would probably buy her a dozen everything bagels and invite them over for a meal. She would offer them a big pot of beans and rice and tell Tabitha to take the rest home. It would likely be enough to feed them for days. But then Stuart’s letter resurfaced in her mind and Tabitha walked away.
“Hey, Fernie Bernie, you ready to go?” Tabitha asked. Fern was sitting with Sarina, their backs against the side of the brick building. Sarina was still wearing her birthday crown, but it was wrinkled and ripped, and she looked tired. “Hi Sarina, happy birthday!”
“Thank you,” the little girl said politely.
“Just five more minutes, Mom, please.”
Tabitha smiled and pulled out her phone. She walked to the far corner of the yard and called Rachel.
“We’re definitely in for the tasting tonight,” Tabitha said when she answered. “So we should come hungry?”
“Yes, come very hungry.”
“Okay, good,” she said. “And I have a strange question. What happens to all the food that is past the sell-by date and you have to pull from the shelf? Cheese and stuff? Hummus?”
“Generally we put it in the staff room for the taking,” she said, somewhat suspiciously, Tabitha thought. “Most of it’s still totally fine to eat. Why do you ask?”
For the hundredth time since Stuart left, Tabitha thought about telling her the truth. It would be so much easier. She opened her mouth as if she might say something like, Do you have a minute? Or, Can I tell you something? But she didn’t. She just couldn’t.
“Fern is studying supermarket safety—how they date stuff, how they sometimes even redate items to give them more time on the shelf, how they determine how long it will be good,” Tabitha said, cringing as she continued to lie to her best friend. “So I thought it would be interesting to see, maybe she could take a few things with her tonight that she can bring in tomorrow? Her teacher seems especially interested in food that is still good to eat but deemed not good enough to sell.”
“Sure—there’s a fridge with all that stuff, but I have to warn you, some of it has probably been there for too long. I’m the one who’s supposed to clean it out. Hey, maybe Fern can help me later. Maybe she can bring some of the really moldy stuff in tomorrow. The kids will love to see it! It can turn some surprising colors!”
“Okay, sure, and maybe some not moldy stuff?”
“Tabitha, what is going on with you? I mean really, what is the deal?”
“What? Nothing. It’s just this annoying assignment,” Tabitha said, feeling a burn behind her eyes. She could hear Fern and Sarina laughing behind her. Thank goodness for Sarina.
“Okay, okay,” Rachel said, backing off. “Be here by five forty-five. You don’t want to miss the best dishes.”
“We’ll be there,” Tabitha said, wondering what she could say to Fern to explain the fridge cleanout. “In fact, maybe we’ll be early.”