Krista had adored her father but she knew at an early age he was trouble. Roy was ten years younger than his brother, Carl. He was about twelve times more handsome, too. And he could charm the socks off a centipede. He was funny and handsome, could sing beautifully, tell jokes all night, and just the sight of him dancing with Jo was enough to clear the dance floor—people backed away to watch.
While Hope was trying to fantasize another kind of life and Megan couldn’t remember a thing for a whole year, Krista was the observer. She noticed everything and seemed unable to close her eyes to her family’s problems. She had a couple of prominent memories. One was from when she was four or five and the family was getting ready for Christmas Eve with her grandparents and cousins. “Did you wash the dresses like I told you?” Roy asked Jo.
“I don’t see why...” Jo said.
“So they don’t look like we bought ’em for the Christmas inspection!” he shot back. “So the judge and your tight-assed sister don’t say anything about it! And if your sister asks where your ring is, you say you left it by the sink. You got that?”
“Don’t get all worked up, Roy,” Jo pleaded. “That’s usually your excuse to drink.”
“How the hell am I supposed to get through six hours of listening to the old bastard without a couple of drinks under my belt?” he asked. Jo began to weep. “Oh, come on, baby, come on. I forget it’s hard for you, too. I’ll fix you a little something to take the edge off.”
Krista remembered the tension before and after every holiday or weekend gathering at Grandma and the judge’s house. Her other prominent memory was of the secret meetings in her parents’ kitchen. This was something her cousins wouldn’t remember even if they’d been paying attention because Carl and Louise came to Jo and Roy’s house without the kids, after Krista and her sisters were in bed. They’d talk quietly in the kitchen. Krista had spied and eavesdropped a few times. She’d hear her father say things like, I had to get rid of that car because it was a lemon, falling apart on us all the time. I got screwed. But she knew the truth was the car had been repossessed. Or she’d hear her father say, If you can’t loan me the money, I’ll have to sell some stock and I’m trying to hang on to it for the girls’ education. There was no stock.
Carl Hempstead had owned an electronics firm that was prosperous and a couple of times Roy worked for him. It had not gone well and there had been more of those kitchen meetings. Louise would always say, “Family is the most important thing. We will forever and always put family first and we’ll never speak of this again.” What they were never speaking of remained a mystery but Krista had some guesses. She suspected that every time Roy was down on his luck and needed the help of his older brother to dig out of a debt or pay off a loan, there was a kitchen meeting.
Krista had fashioned some of these memories into short stories for a class she’d taken in prison. The writing teacher had praised her work and asked her if she’d ever considered putting it all down on paper, from her earliest memory on. “You have talent,” the teacher said. “Plus, it’s an amazing way to clear the cobwebs—writing about it. The truth about it.”
“People in my position are very flexible about the truth,” Krista said. Her position was one of convicted felon, serving two and four. Two counts of murder, four of armed robbery. Now that was a story in itself.
Krista had had lots of therapy in prison. Most inmates didn’t really take to it but Krista was fascinated and she liked drawing some conclusions about the turns her life had taken. She had some individual and group counseling. It had been suggested that if she wanted to figure out where her problems had come from, she might take a closer look at her family.
That seemed pretty obvious to Krista. In fact, she suspected she knew where it all started. She thought she might be somewhat biased since the judge wouldn’t help her when she was in deep shit, but she suspected he was the root of all their problems. In fact, she’d be disappointed if she learned he wasn’t. But she wanted to gather as much information, the secret kind of information, the kind no one was supposed to talk about, to write it down. She wasn’t sure she’d ever publish something that personal that touched so many lives, but the first step was writing it. And writing it accurately. She started by asking Jo a lot of questions.
“When your dad and I needed a loan or a little help, Lou and Carl would come over to the house after you kids were in bed to talk about the terms. We’d set up a payment schedule and a small amount of interest, but Lou and Carl never expected to get repaid. So as a backup, as collateral, I’d promise to forfeit a part of the inheritance I’d share with Lou. Maybe my half of the silver or my half of a piece of art, of which there was a lot. Like my half of the Matisse.”
Yeah, Krista thought. That’s what I’m talking about.
She was careful to space her questions carefully so as not to draw too much attention to the fact seeking she was doing. And she had a nice, steady communication with Megan right up to the last couple of years when to talk about anything other than Megan’s health was selfish and even cruel.
Her mother visited the prison a few times, but it was costly for Jo and she didn’t make a lot of money. She got by and seemed pretty content, but Krista was well aware there were no extras for her mother and for her to spend the money to travel to California to visit her was an extravagance. But those were the times Jo would tell her things about the family. In her letters, Krista could tell Jo was uncomfortable putting it to paper and their phone conversations had to be kept short because there were always people waiting. But when Jo visited, they could talk for a few hours.
“Your grandmother started saying bizarre things after the judge passed away. Things I never heard her say while he was alive. Like the fact that she brought the money to the marriage. He’d have had everyone, including his family, believe that his wealth came from his great success as a lawyer and a judge. But Grandma said that was bull. She said he was a threadbare young attorney and she was the only child of a successful Chicago businessman. Her father literally picked the judge out for her, threw them a big wedding—a huge wedding. There was a fantastic dowry and it was her parents who gave them that enormous house on Grand Avenue. No young lawyer could afford that kind of house unless he had family money and the judge was the only child of a widow who lived from hand to mouth. Grandma said the judge was bought and paid for. And she was angry about it.”
“What kind of business did your grandfather run in Chicago?” Krista asked.
“He was a mortician!” Jo said. “A very successful mortician! And, after they got married and were living in Saint Paul, Grandma said the judge got mean. He had a temper, she said. He slapped her around and threw things. Back in those days, one never talked about domestic abuse, never. But Grandma was too smart for the judge. She called her father. And her father had what she called connections. Grandma said a couple of men visited the judge and explained, very carefully, that her parents were worried about her and didn’t want to think for one second that she wasn’t being well cared for. After listening to her talk like this for a couple of years, I got the idea my grandfather, Grandma’s daddy, was connected to the mob in Chicago. But your aunt Lou thought Grandma was senile. That’s when Grandma said, ‘Senile, eh? You’re lucky to have been born. The judge hit me, knocked me down and kicked me in the stomach when I was pregnant with you!’ We’d never seen the judge raise a hand to our mother. Though there was no mistaking he had a temper.”
And he had a mean streak a mile long, Krista knew from experience. He was known as a hanging judge. And when she had appealed to him for help, he refused. Not that she blamed him. Krista had been both defiant and incorrigible.
But that was then. Twenty-five to life had filed down all the jagged edges.
* * *
Charley called Meg to let her know that Krista was with her at the lake house. After a tearful conversation, Krista handed the phone back to Charley.
“Would you like to call your mom now?” Charley asked while they ate a light breakfast of fruit and toast.
“The first person I have to check in with is that parole officer,” Krista said.
“Will you have to see him or her right away?”
“It’s a woman. And I won’t know until I call,” Krista said.
“Well, if she wants to see you, I’ll take you. But I have an idea. I can drive you into the city and you can see your mother. Today. How does that sound to you?”
“I like that idea,” she said.
“Can I leave you with her for a couple of hours while I run a few errands?” Charley asked.
“She’ll be at work,” Krista said. “We’ll have to ask her if it’s all right if I hang around. She’s not expecting me.”
“Call her,” Charley said. “Do you have any money?”
“Seventy-five dollars,” Krista said. “The parole officer will help me with some paperwork to apply for some interim assistance while I look for work.”
Charley opened up her purse and gave Krista another fifty. “Take your mom to lunch so you can talk, if she can escape the shop for an hour.”
“Charley...”
“Don’t even think about it, Krista. I’ve been lucky. If I can help you make this transition, it’ll be good for my spirit.”
“As long as your spirit doesn’t go broke,” she said.
They headed for the city, chatting the whole way. They recalled how it had been such a long drive when they were children but now there were good freeways that cut the time by at least a third. They turned the oldies on the radio and sang along. They laughed about the games they played in the back of the station wagon, their mothers in the front seat. It was a wonder no one got hurt! Games like Who can we suffocate the fastest? And pushing on the stomach of whatever girl had to pee. And laughing until someone did pee!
They pulled up in front of a respectable-looking little flower shop in an older section of Oakdale. “Want me to come in with you?” Charley asked.
Krista looked up and down the street. There were a couple of fast-food restaurants, an Italian place, a park. “No, I’ll be fine. This is good. I should see her first before I do anything else. What are you going to do? If you don’t mind me asking...”
“I’m going to see my mother,” Charley said. “We need to figure out who owns the lake house. And we need to be sure your mom feels okay about coming if that’s where you’re going to be. If you decide to stay here with your mom, that’s not a problem, you know. Everyone would understand.”
“Everyone? As in you and Megan?”
“Or anyone else,” Charley said.
“Listen—for twenty-three years Megan has been my faithful best friend, correspondent, spy and sister of the heart. I don’t know how much time she has left. I want to be there.”
That made Charley tear up. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t thank me,” Krista said. “I haven’t earned the right. But I really want to be with her and both of you seem to want me to be at the lake. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”
“I love you, Krista,” Charley said. “I’m so glad we have this second chance.”
* * *
Charley dropped Krista in the small park across the street from the flower shop and drove to her mother’s house. She’d seen Louise several times while she was staying with Meg but she hadn’t been back to the house she grew up in for years. Not since Eric was six years old. She always stayed with Meg.
Just walking up to the door, her gut churned. She thought, My God, I’m forty-four years old and still afraid of my mother! I don’t want to be alone with her!
Funny, Charley thought, I’ve been less nervous facing neo-Nazis on my talk show than I am dropping in on my mother. And as far as that went, she wasn’t merely dropping in—she had called ahead after leaving Krista at the flower shop. “Mother, it’s Charley,” she had said.
“Oh?” Louise replied.
“I’m going to be in Saint Paul this morning. I wonder if I might stop by?”
“Well, I suppose so. If you feel you have the time.”
“I’m pretty busy actually, but I’ll squeeze you in,” Charley said. Automatic sass. Instantly she knew she’d been had again. Louise’s tongue was like pistol fire at her feet. Dance, dance, dance. Louise would bait her and Charley always took the bait.
Louise had been old for over twenty years. In fact, when Charley’s father passed away Louise was forty-one and she’d already been old. Not wrinkled, tired or through too many hard times; it wasn’t that. She was already complaining about how hard the floors were on her knees and hips but she was neither arthritic nor crippled. Her hair was gray and she didn’t color it. It must be hard to find a beautician who could still create that twenty-or thirty-year-old weekly hairdo... Charley thought it was called “the wedge.” Lou wore no makeup, not even lipstick, as she had when she was young. Her brows were shapeless and she wouldn’t pluck them. Her clothes were expensive but dowdy and she didn’t update them. But more than anything it was the sourness on her face. It could scare children. She could be so fierce and mean looking it could make you wince and step back. It put thirty years on her.
Before that terrible summer she used to laugh. She was smart and funny, happy and attractive. She gave up so long ago.
The very first time Charley had taken Eric to meet his grandmother he was six years old. He was bright, funny, handsome and daring. But when he saw Louise, he had gasped. Right out loud. And the most complimentary thing Louise had said of him during their entire visit was, “Small for his age, isn’t he? And a bit of an attitude. I know where he gets that.”
Charley had a few pictures of her family members taken at her grandparents’ home at the time of her father’s funeral—when Louise was three years younger than Charley was now. Louise had looked at least sixty.
Cut her some slack, her conscience had said at the time. She’s been through hell with her kids and her husband just died. Louise couldn’t be blamed for what happened to Bunny, Charley said to herself, but the rest of us she drove away with her anger, her lack of empathy. Even Daddy. Louise behaved as though everything that had gone wrong happened only to her.
She knocked on her mother’s front door before she let herself think too much about her father. Her father, who was so inherently good, so loving and generous, yet in all their familial crises he never found a way to be the least bit useful.
Louise had lived in the same spacious split-level since Charley was about twelve. The house was in an upscale neighborhood. It sat at the end of a cul-de-sac on a half-acre lot with lush trees and shrubs. Charley could hear the sound of the lawn trimmer outside and the vacuum cleaner inside. A housekeeping service van was parked at the curb.
Charley was already angry. She was pursing her lips against rage. Her mother had a gardener and maid, but Aunt Jo could only afford a small apartment? They were both single women, had once been so close. You’d think Louise would want to take care of her sister. How could they allow this arrangement to continue?
“Charley, I didn’t expect you to get here so quickly.”
“I dropped Krista at Aunt Jo’s flower shop and came right over.” She shrugged.
“Jo’s flower shop?” Louise asked. “She has a flower shop now?”
Louise knew better but Charley responded, anyway. “I believe she has worked in the same flower shop for years, Mother,” she managed to say without snarling. “Don’t you see her?”
“I see her every week,” Louise said. “As you know.”
Ah, so this had not changed since the last time Charley was home. Jo and Louise accompanied Grandma Berkey to church every Sunday. Jo took a bus to the nursing home and Louise drove herself there. They put Grandma in the front seat of the car, Jo got in the back seat and they went to the big Presbyterian church downtown. They sat on either side of Grandma and barely spoke to each other. They took Grandma to lunch, each paid for her own plus half of Grandma’s and talked mostly to Grandma. They took Grandma back to the nursing home; Jo left there by bus and Louise drove herself home. Charley wondered if Louise had ever offered her sister a ride. Jo never asked for one. The settings had changed over the years but the bottom line was the same: they were often together, at least once a week, and in twenty-seven years had not had any real conversations.
Charley took a breath. “Actually, I’m here to talk to you about Aunt Jo.”
“Would you like to talk in the doorway? Or would you like to come inside?”
“Why do you have to be so damn sarcastic, Mother? I’d like to come in! I’d like you to say you’re glad I stopped by! I’d like you to offer me a cup of coffee or tea or maybe a good belt of something stronger! My God, you’re no more welcoming than you were the last time I came to this house some twelve years ago!”
“Maybe I don’t show my feelings so much anymore because I’m a little tired of being hurt, Charley. As you said, it’s been twelve years since you came to my house. By all means, come in.” And with that Louise turned and strode into the house, leaving Charley to follow.
How the hell does she do that? Charley asked herself. Though Louise had not phoned or written one time to say she was missed or asked her to come for a visit, it was somehow Charley’s fault. It was all about Louise. This is the last time, Charley vowed. The very last time. She is an unredeemable narcissist.
She started to follow her mother, but the giant clog of jumbled furnishings slowed her pace like quicksand and she stopped to take it in. Well, this had changed. The house was a turmoil of contrasting florals and patterns and textures and styles—it swam before her. Charley looked at the walls, the pillows, the paintings, the bric-a-brac; this was how her mother spent her time—filling every inch of space. It actually seemed to move, it was so busy. Charley stopped in the foyer, the jam-packed living room on her right, cluttered dining room on her left. She slowly turned. It wasn’t so much the disarray; it was the amount! She began to feel claustrophobic. Had Louise become a hoarder?
She thought she recognized a painting. Then a familiar candelabra. And then with a gasp she realized that Louise had stuffed every last possession from Grandma Berkey’s Grand Avenue manse into her house. How the devil did these maids for hire dust it all?
“The coffee is in here, Charley,” her mother called from the kitchen.
There were two buffets and Grandma Berkey’s breakfront, filled with silver, crystal, china and collectibles. The walls were literally covered with paintings, gilt mirrors, sconces, clocks. The antique furniture and accoutrements alone were worth tens of thousands of dollars. Charley remembered her grandparents’ home and all its plenty. She’d wondered just how the Berkey wealth had been disposed. Since Aunt Jo couldn’t seem to afford a car anymore, it was possible all of Grandma’s valuables had been moved right into Louise’s possession.
Well, that could be dealt with another time. Grandma wasn’t dead yet.
She pushed through the swinging door and tried not to react to the junk-shop atmosphere of the kitchen. But again, Louise had surrounded herself with tons of useless, though perhaps valuable, possessions. She had refused to part with a single thing. It would have to be inventoried by someone smarter than Charley. It struck her that she might be the only surviving daughter when Louise died and she’d actually be stuck with this mountain of expensive junk. She shivered at the thought.
“It isn’t cold in here, Charley. In fact, I’ve been baking,” Louise said, putting a cup of coffee on the kitchen table. No baked goods appeared.
Charley pulled out a chair, picked up the cup and took a sip and sat down at the table, cup in both hands. “Mother, sit down, please. Let’s talk.”
Louise had a turn to her lips that said resistance, but she sat.
“Krista came directly to the lake house from jail. It’s very important to her to do things right after all she’s been through. She wants permission to stay at the lake house for a while. She wants to ask someone and have someone tell her it’s okay. So—who is the owner now, Mother? Would that be you?”
“Hmm. That’s more than you and your sister thought to do.”
“Yes, correct, we—or really Megan—assumed. Or would that be presumed? But that’s beside the point. Call us rude, I don’t care. But I think it’s important to honor Krista’s request to have official permission.”
“If I didn’t give her permission, would it cause the rest of you to leave and stay out of that house?”
“Not a chance.”
“Then tell Krista she has her permission. I don’t expect any of you cares how it makes me feel.”
Charley decided to let it go. “Are you the official owner?”
“I’m the official trustee to Grandma Berkey’s trust and executor of her estate. I disposed of her other real estate, pay her bills and taxes, control her income—which goes directly to the nursing home. I take care of all her needs. I alone.”
“Aunt Jo doesn’t help with any of that?”
“Hah. She’s barely capable of taking care of herself.”
“I see. Okay. Just out of curiosity—if you’re the trustee and you hate the lake house so much, why haven’t you sold it?”
“Grandma objected. I’m merely honoring her wishes. She always hoped we’d open it up again one day but I have no use for that place.” Then Louise looked away in obvious discomfort, making Charley wonder just who wouldn’t sell that property.
“I know it’s none of my business but does Aunt Jo get anything? When Grandma dies?”
Louise looked back sharply. “Grandma has a will. For the time being her worldly goods and accounts and social security and pension are being used to pay for her care. When she dies her will goes into effect. She made her decisions about that a long time ago.”
She knows, Charley thought. But she won’t tell.
“There isn’t much, Charley,” Louise said. “A lot of widows my age go on vacations and cruises and have their nails and hair done but I stay home and make sure Grandma is cared for. It’s more than a full-time job. That’s all I’ve done for almost twenty years.”
Charley decided to call her bluff, just for vicious fun. She leaned back in her chair. “I have some time on my hands, Mother. Why don’t I take care of Grandma’s needs for a month or two while you do some traveling? You could sell off what’s in that breakfront and cruise around the world a couple of times.”
“When my daughter has cancer and could be dying?” Louise countered.
“Megan is planning on staying at the lake,” Charley reminded her.
“Surely not for the rest of her life!”
“Very possibly,” Charley said. But then Louise had been told more than once. She just hated to deal with it.
“I just can’t believe that!”
“Well, you’d better. Which brings me to another matter. Aunt Jo. She won’t go to the lake unless you invite her. She’s adamant. I want you to call her and tell her that you have no problem with her going to the lake.”
“I don’t even know her phone number,” Louise said churlishly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away.
“I’ll be glad to give you the number. Now, Mother, I think Aunt Jo is being very sensitive to your feelings on the matter, but not only does she deserve a chance to be with Megan, both Hope and Krista will be at the lake this summer and those are her daughters.”
“Hope?”
“Yes, and her daughters, though I don’t think Frank is coming. Hope wrote to Meg something about business in Europe. He’s a big shot, you know.”
“Hmph. What else would Hope deign to have?”
“You don’t like Hope?”
“She’s a snotty social climber. I don’t have much use for that.”
Charley was again given pause. She was confused. “When did you last see Hope?” she asked Louise.
“Does it matter?”
“Well... Yeah, it matters. If you haven’t seen Hope for over twenty-five years and still have this impression of her... I mean, you don’t know anything about her. Anymore at least.”
“I’m sure she hasn’t changed,” Louise said decidedly.
“She probably hasn’t,” Charley muttered, noting her mother’s expression of satisfaction. “Not that you’d know anything about it. Now, back to Aunt Jo. Please, tell her you don’t mind if she goes to the lake. It’s her family, too.”
“But I do mind,” Louise said. The expression on her face looked as though she might cry, but her eyes didn’t so much as cloud. “I mind everyone going. I mind my daughter, who is sick, going to that god-awful place. Doesn’t anyone care what it will do to me if two of my daughters die there?”
What it will do to me? Doesn’t anyone care about me? Do to me, to me, me, me...
Charley took a sip of her coffee to keep her mouth from sagging open forever. Then she put her cup down on the table and looked at her mother, shaking her head. “The rest of us were thinking of someone else, Mother.” She took a deep breath. “Will you please do this for Megan? She’s too sick to argue with you about it.”
“I saw her just a week ago. She seemed quite feisty to me.”
“A note,” Charley said, ignoring her. “Just jot out a little note to Aunt Jo. I’m going over there to pick up Krista. I’ll pass it to her. Just say, ‘Jo, you’re welcome to go to the lake anytime you like. Lou.’ That should do the trick. And believe me—we’d all appreciate it very much. You’ll just never know.” And hurry, Charley thought. If I don’t get out of here quick, I might have to kill you.
But Louise didn’t move. She sat there staring at Charley. Charley heard the ticking of at least three clocks. It seemed to last forever.
Finally, Louise rose from the table, went to the cupboard from which she withdrew a blank recipe card from a box and a pen. She scrawled the requested note and angrily thrust it at Charley. “Do you have everything you need?” she asked meanly.
Charley took it slowly. Then she stood. They were both tall women; they looked eye to eye at about five foot ten. “Mother, you should see someone. You don’t have to be this miserable.”
Louise forced a smile that looked positively psychopathic. “Who says I’m miserable? I have a good Christian life. I have the Lord at least, which is more than I can say for some people in my family. You have your permissions, Charley, you don’t have to stay here with your mother a minute longer than necessary. But there’s one thing you should know—I’ll be damned to hell before I’ll go to that house again.”
A little spittle caught on Louise’s lower lip when she spat the last sentence and Charley was reminded of some of her mother’s insane rages when they were small. Most of them were at her, of course. Charley slowly turned, picked up her purse and left the house. When she closed the front door behind her, she whispered, “Thank you, God. I owe you one.”
Louise never asked how she was, how Krista had fared after twenty-three years in prison, how her grandchildren were. She never asked about Charley’s job, though she probably knew her show had been canceled. No, there was nothing about anyone else. Louise thought only of herself. How lonely she must be.
Charley looked at the note.
Josephine—Go to the lake house if you must, though it will probably kill me! Louise
In spite of herself she began to laugh.
* * *
“Hi, Ma.”
Josephine heard it clearly but she was afraid to look up from the flora she was arranging in a basket. She was afraid it might not be real. She slowly turned, lifting her eyes hopefully but fearfully. Her head began shake in wonder and tears came immediately to her eyes. “Oh, baby, oh, Krista, oh, baby,” she cried. She walked shakily toward Krista, her hands reaching out for her daughter’s face.
Krista stood still, smiling, giving her mother some time to reach her and touch her. Jo’s hands were roughly textured, marked by hard work and long cold winters.
Jo pressed Krista’s face between the flat palms of her open hands. “Krista,” she said breathily. “Oh, my God, my baby, my darling, my Krista!”
“I got out a little early,” she said.
Jo let her hands flow down Krista’s shoulders, arms, back, waist. “You’re so little. Have you always been so little?”
“I’m right about your size.”
“Well, height, maybe,” Jo said, a laugh almost breaking through her tears. Jo was softly, roundly padded. A little stooped from being on her feet all day for years and years. “My baby. Home,” she whispered, kneading her upper arms. “You’re small—but you’re strong. Feel your muscles.”
“I’m very strong, Ma. Runs in the family, huh?” By now Krista could not hold back her own tears, fogging up her vision and tingling her nose. She resented the intrusion of tears. She wanted a clear vision of her mother. It had been a couple of years since she’d seen her. Jo had written faithfully at least every week, sending fifty dollars every month without fail, but she had rarely visited.
Jo’s skin was soft and wrinkled but she was still beautiful. She’d worked hard over the years; anyone who thought the floral industry was a bucket of posies didn’t know anything. Her light brown hair was threaded with gray and was thinner and wispier than it had been. But her smile, her smile was so sweet, even with tears catching in the wrinkles under her eyes. Krista took her into her arms and gave her a hearty hug. “Ohhh, Mom,” she said, holding her close.
“Didn’t they feed you? Are you okay? You’re pale. You’re too thin.”
“I’m fine, Ma.” Krista looked around the little flower shop; there didn’t seem to be anyone around. “Can you sneak away for lunch?”
With precision timing, a woman stood in the doorway leading to the back of the shop. She was much younger than Jo, maybe thirty-five, and stocky. She looked at Krista suspiciously. She probably knew, Krista assumed.
“Sure I can, honey. I’m the manager. I don’t know that I could possibly eat, but we can go for a walk at least. I don’t like to take too much time away—”
“Go on and go, Jo,” the woman said. “I’ll handle the shop.”
“Oh, Margie, I didn’t see you there. Margie, this is my daughter Krista. Krista, this is Margie Ripley. She helps out part-time.” She looked back at Krista. “I haven’t seen Krista in a long time, Margie. She’s been...she’s been...”
“In the Army,” Krista said, reaching around her mother and extending her hand toward the younger woman. “I just got out of the Army. This week, in fact. How do you do?” Margie was very slow to take Krista’s hand. Krista bobbed. She did everything but salute.
“Go on then, Josephine. Take a little bit of time with your daughter. You betcha.”
“Thanks, Margie. I won’t be gone too long.” Jo eased herself past Margie and into the back room to get her purse. Krista could hear the sound of a woman’s voice, that nasal Midwestern twang, asking where she was going, but she couldn’t hear her mother’s reply.
Jo tucked her arm through Krista’s as they left the shop. “You want something to eat, honey? There’s a grill down the street a ways. A sandwich place over there. Or, if you don’t mind a crowd, there’s that pizzeria...”
“I mind the crowd, Ma. I want to talk to you more than anything. Find out how you are. If you’re coming to the lake. You know. We don’t need a big crowd on our first visit. How about that little park over there? That’s where I sat while I was getting my nerve up to come into the flower shop.”
“You needed courage to come to see me? You don’t mean that, Krista. Not really.”
“Not because of you, Ma. Because of me. I’m such a disappointment. It must be hard to be my mother, huh?” she asked, only half-facetiously. “Someone who’s been in the Army for twenty-three years.” Then she laughed with the painful truth of it.
“I’m proud of you, if you want to know. You worked hard in there—counseling, your GED, even some classes with college credits. How did you get here?”
“Charley brought me and dropped me off. She has some errands and will be back in a couple of hours. If it’s not a good idea for me to hang around the shop, I’ll just get a soda and come back later.”
“Will you stay with me? I only have the one bedroom but I’ll take the couch. It’s small but nice and it’s only a block from the bus.”
“Where’s your car?” Krista asked.
“I got rid of it years ago.”
“I thought you’d be getting another one,” Krista said.
“I wasn’t using it too much. I took the bus most of the time to economize. After a while I thought, I don’t need that car at all, not really. It wasn’t just the gas but every time I turned around it needed some mechanical fix. I like not having a car, to tell the truth. But do you want to stay with me?”
“I want to spend as much time with you as possible, but I’m going to try to stay at the lake with Megan and Charley. If I don’t find work nearby I might have to come to the city, but Megan...you know about Megan. I want to spend time with her, too. For right now, I’ll be at the lake,” Krista said. She steered her mother toward the little park just down the street. There were a couple of benches, a sandbox and some swings and a slide. “Maybe for the whole summer, depending. Charley is going to pick me up here, right where she left me off, and we’re going to swing by Megan’s house so I can say hello. You can come with us, too, if you want. Today, if you want to.”
They sat down on the bench, still clutching each other’s hands. Jo didn’t say anything.
“I’m going to get a job as soon as I can, Ma. I don’t want you to feel obligated, but if you want we can get a place together. It’s up to you, okay?”
“I’d love that. Maybe after you’re all settled,” Jo said quietly. “You should get your life settled. You shouldn’t have to worry about me.”
Krista laughed and pulled Jo into a hug. “I’m not worried about you, Ma. I want to be with you if we can work it out! You shouldn’t worry about having a place for me. I should worry about having a place for you!”
Jo turned her watering eyes and gazed at her daughter’s face. She patted her cheek. “You’re such a good girl, Krista. How do I deserve such a good girl as you?”
Krista laughed again. “Only a mother could say that to a kid who just wrapped up a twenty-five-year sentence. You haven’t lost your sense of humor. So, how about it? Want to go tell what’s-her-name...Margie...that you’re taking a little time off?”
“I wish I could, honey. I wish I could, that’s for sure...”
“Sure you can! I’ll take care of you now. I don’t know exactly how, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Krista, honey, I know it doesn’t look like very much of a job, but it’s a good job. The owner has been really good to me—I have a decent paycheck and benefits and she’s flexible with my schedule. I wouldn’t take off without notice—I’m the manager. Margie just couldn’t handle it. She thinks she could but... It wouldn’t be fair of me—even if it’s because you’re home now. And me being sixty-five and without very many skills—good jobs don’t come along every day. You might think you’re going to get yourself a big fancy job that pays for both of us, but, Krista, honey, it just isn’t that simple anymore. We’re gonna have to take this a little slower, honey.”
“I know, I know,” Krista agreed, though reluctantly. “But, Ma, you have to come to the lake right away...please? Charley has it all fixed up—it’s more beautiful than it’s ever been before.”
“It is at that,” Charley said from behind them. They both jumped in surprise and turned to look at her over the back of the park bench. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I parked over there,” she said, jutting a thumb over her shoulder. “Hi, Aunt Jo. It’s been a while.”
“Charley, look at you! Pretty as on TV!” Tears sprouting anew, Jo jumped to her feet and reached for Charley over the bench. They embraced, nearly crushing Krista in the process. “It’s so long since we’ve been together,” she wept. “So, so long...”
“Well, this doesn’t even resemble the welcome my mother gave me.” Charley chuckled.
“Oh, don’t you pay any attention to her,” Jo said, wiping at her tears. “She can’t help herself. That’s just her.”
“I agree with you on one count, but I do believe she could help herself. Which reminds me—I have something for you.” Charley pulled away so she could reach into her purse. She pulled out the recipe card. “I hope this makes you laugh.”
Josephine looked at the scrawled note from her sister. A small huff escaped her, but she was not as overcome as Charley had been. “It will be hard to pass up an invitation like that,” she said. She passed the note to Krista. Krista did not laugh at all.
“Good, I hoped you’d say that,” Charley said. “There was a little travel agent’s shop not far from Mother’s. I ducked in and picked up some round-trip bus passes for you. I don’t know what your schedule is like, but you should have these passes...” She flipped through the small envelopes as though counting dollar bills. “Three for you, three for Krista... Now you can get back and forth to see each other whenever it’s convenient. Aunt Jo, I know how you feel about Mother giving her okay for you to visit the lake house, and I know this note isn’t quite what you had in mind, but you’re just going to have to swallow your pride. Hope and the girls are coming in July.”
Josephine didn’t even look surprised. She just stared at the tickets. “I know, I know. Thank you, Charley. It’s a little more complicated than pride, but that will have to do for now.” She looked up at her tall, slender niece. She smiled appreciatively. Charley was elegant looking even in shorts and a T-shirt. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you, sweetheart?”
“Not everything. Have you had lunch? I’m starving!”
“Mom says she couldn’t eat and—”
“And I can’t take too much time,” Jo said. “There are a lot of orders today for some reason. If I don’t finish up, I’ll be staying late.”
Krista frowned. She didn’t like the way her mother fidgeted over that job. It didn’t look like the kind of flower shop that had too many orders. And that Margie... Well, Krista hadn’t been around civilians in a long time. But if Margie worked for Jo, shouldn’t she be more accommodating?
“Charley? Want to get us a couple of sandwiches from that sub shop and just eat them here? If my mom only has a little time, I don’t want to waste it ordering food in a restaurant.”
“Good idea,” Charley said, lighting off for the sub shop immediately.
Krista pulled her mom back down on the bench. “Isn’t it amazing how I can ask a TV star to run an errand, go get me food, and she goes?” Krista laughed. “Ma, no one’s going to fire you for taking an hour or two with a daughter you haven’t seen in years. Come on, relax. I can only stay a little while, anyway.”
“Oh, Margie will probably try,” Jo said. “She’s ornery. But the owner is not, so I’m going to spend what little time I have with you.”
“When are your days off? When can you come to the lake?”
“That Charley,” Jo said solemnly. “She’s just thought of everything, hasn’t she?”
“I don’t know, Ma. You tell me. Can you come to the lake pretty soon? Maybe before Hope and the girls come? So I can have you to myself?”
“I’ll try, honey. I’ll talk to Margie today and find out when she’s free to help out. She’s a good worker—I just worry about her scaring off the customers. Maybe I can take a couple of days here and there...”
“What about your vacation?” Krista asked.
Jo merely laughed. “Krista, honey, we never even talked about it.”