Estella pictured a lopsided tree, flattened on Kayla’s side of the fence.
“It’s very pretty when it blooms in the spring,” she said.
“Oh, it is,” Kayla said. “I agree. We’re not suggesting you cut it down. Just a trim, on our side only, if that suits you. But I shouldn’t have mentioned it when you were on your way. Don’t give it another thought.”
Kayla began to walk away, but then she hesitated, as though she wanted to say something else, and finally she did, cautiously.
“You know, Estella,” she said, “my husband is in construction. Would you like him to have a look at your roof sometime? He’d be happy to give you some advice. The gutters, you see . . . well, they leak in a heavy rain and the water pools around our foundations, both of our houses. Perhaps you’ve noticed? We’ve been getting a bit of water in the basement.”
Gutters? Estella thought. There was nothing wrong with her gutters.
Kayla must have seen the look on her face because she said again, “Oh, I’m sorry, what’s the matter with me? We’ll talk when you get back.” Then she gave Estella a little wave and walked away, back into the leafy cover of her own yard.
Yes, we will talk, Estella thought. She would tell Kayla to mind her own business, and that she wouldn’t have her oaf of a husband anywhere near her roof. She wondered what other plans Kayla and her husband had for her.
She hoisted herself out of her chair and went back inside because she didn’t want Kayla spying on her. She sat on the front porch swing and waited, her suitcase by the door where she could see it. She could hear a crow squawking high up in one of the spruce trees. The neighbourhood was overrun with them. Now that would be a job for Kayla’s husband, she thought, get a pellet gun and shoot the crows out of the trees.
The day was already hot, even in the shade. She went inside again, and to pass the time she fetched her sewing basket and her old two-piece bathing suit, and she sat at the dining room table where the light was good and did what she could to repair it. She rubbed the remains of the dried-out elastic away from the waist, and then she hand-stitched a channel and threaded a length of cord into it, like a drawstring. The leg openings were another matter. The best she could come up with was to sew a few tucks around the openings on each side. The bra was still serviceable because it tied in the back and behind the neck rather than relying on elastic. She had no intention of ever again wearing the bathing suit. She just didn’t want to throw it out. Still, she took the purple suit from her bag and replaced it with the two-piece. Then she sat again on the porch swing to wait.
It was not Lydia’s SUV that finally pulled up in front of her house.
It was Nicholas Diamond’s silver sedan, and he had the older girl in the front seat beside him. When Estella realized it was Nicholas’s car that had parked at the end of her walk, she wondered where the rest of the family was, and what Nicholas and the girl were doing here. She hadn’t spoken with him since he’d called her from Winnipeg, drunk as a lord.
“Hello,” Nicholas said, stepping out onto the street and waving to her across the top of the car. He didn’t look any less like Jack than he had two days ago, and he didn’t look like a man who had been on a bender. The girl, Hannah, emerged from the passenger seat and the two of them came toward her up the walk, and then stood at the bottom of the steps. There was no dog this time.
“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” Nicholas said.
The suitcase.
She didn’t know whether she should invite them in. Lydia’s SUV was sure to come around the corner any minute.
“Lake Claire,” she said. “I’m waiting for my niece. I suppose she’ll be late. She always is.”
“I’m glad we caught you,” Nicholas said. “We were hoping—Hannah and I—that we might drive to Lake Claire too, just to see what it’s all about. We don’t want to intrude, and we would stay out of your way, of course, but we were wondering what the cabins are called. The ones the Diamonds always stayed in.”
Estella couldn’t remember the new owner’s name.
“It used to be Fosters,” she said. “Fosters Bungalows. But they have a new name. I don’t recall what it is.”
In her head, she was trying to decide whether Nicholas and Hannah at the lake would be a good or a bad thing. Would Nicholas drink himself blind every night over his marriage breakup?
On the other hand, six Diamonds, not just four.
And then he said, right in front of Hannah, “I really want to apologize for calling you like that the other night, Estella. That is really not who I am. It won’t happen again.”
That was good enough for the benefit of doubt.
She stood up from the swing and invited them inside, leaving her suitcase on the step and hoping a crow wouldn’t claim it. She had the number for Fosters in her little phone book. She assumed the number would be the same. At one time she had known it by heart.
She took Nicholas and Hannah to the kitchen and found her phone book. Nicholas called, and when someone answered he said in reply, “I was trying to reach Fosters. Is this still Fosters?” He listened for a bit—he was getting the explanation, Estella thought—and then he asked for a cabin, just a small one, he said, for himself and his daughter. “Nicholas Darling,” he gave as his name, and Estella saw him wink at Hannah, who was standing by the counter watching.
“From Peter Pan,” Hannah said to Estella.
Estella supposed it was a joke between the two of them, but he should have told them he was a Diamond. They might have given him a better cottage.
Nicholas retrieved a credit card from his wallet and read the number, after which Estella got his attention and said, “Tell them you’re related to me.”
“I’m a relative of Estella Diamond’s,” he said to whoever was on the phone. “Can you tell me how close together our cabins are?” There was a pause and Nicholas frowned. “I wonder if there’s a mistake,” he said. “Can you check again?” He waited, and then said, “I’ll speak to her and we’ll call you back, just to confirm.”
When he hung up the phone he told Estella that there was no cabin booked in her name.
“Marigold Bungalows,” he said. “Apparently that’s what they’re called now. Do you think that might have caused some confusion?”
Estella said she didn’t see how since the phone number was the same, but she had best call Lydia. She dialled her number and got Mercy.
“There seems to be a problem with our cottage booking,” she said. “Let me talk to Lydia.”
“What booking?” Mercy asked.
“For the lake. What booking do you think?”
There was silence, and then Mercy said, “But we’re not going to the lake this year.”
“Of course we are,” Estella said. “Surely she hasn’t forgotten. Let me speak with her.”
Mercy said Lydia was at work.
“That’s ridiculous,” Estella said. “We’ll be driving in the dark.”
There was another silence on Mercy’s end of the line, as though she couldn’t think what to say, and then she said that Estella must have forgotten, the plans had changed.
“If they have, nobody told me,” Estella said. “I’ve been sitting on the porch waiting for you.”
“I know we’re not going to the lake, not this year,” Mercy said. “Lonny’s going to summer camp tomorrow instead. It’s that special needs camp. We thought it would be good for him. Remember?”
“I remember no such thing,” Estella said, which was not quite true, it was coming back to her. There was something about a camp, Lonny’s school had suggested it, and Lydia had asked Estella for the fees because it was expensive. But was that this weekend, the weekend they always went to Lake Claire?
“Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said. “Tell Lydia to call me later, then.”
“A mix-up?” Nicholas asked after she’d hung up the phone.
Estella heard herself sigh. “Summer camp,” she said. “For my great
-niece’s autistic grandson.”
It was true. Lydia had argued that the camp would be better for Lonny than Lake Claire; they had therapists there, and activities designed for children like him. But was it all an excuse because of what had happened the year before, when they’d said she couldn’t be trusted to look after Lonny and she’d lashed out and broken a water glass and sent everyone into a tailspin? The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that they just didn’t want to take her anymore. That was the real reason there was no booking.
“They’re a pair, like mother, like daughter,” she said. “One day it’s on, the next it’s off.”
There was a wooden kitchen chair by the telephone and she sat on it, trying not to worry because she had completely forgotten about Lonny’s camp. Nicholas was bound to be thinking she was senile. She herself thought she might be. The chair had been placed to cover a cracked linoleum tile, but she could still see that a chunk of the tile was missing. She remembered the tiles when they were new; she and her father had chosen them not long after her mother died.
“You must be disappointed,” Nicholas said.
He sounded genuine, and again she thought of Jack, who had been the kindest of her brothers, at least until he came back from the war, and nothing after that could be blamed on him. Not even his final act, which had not been kind at all, the way he’d left everyone without an explanation or a goodbye. She reached with her foot to feel the spot where the tile had broken away.
“This needs to be taken care of,” she said. “My father was always particular about keeping the house up.”
Nicholas said, “I wonder if there are leftover tiles stored somewhere. It would be hard to find a match now.”
She thought there very well could be. Her father had kept his odds and ends in the garage, and she had not once looked through his storage shelves in all the years since he’d been gone.
“If there are, the garage is where they would be,” she said. She turned to Hannah then and asked her if she’d mind getting her a glass of water.
Hannah found a glass in the cupboard. She filled it from the tap and then handed it to her.
“I know the boy is their priority,” Estella said, “but I do think they could have told me.” It was a feeble attempt at covering up her mistake.
Nicholas said, “I don’t know your niece but it sounds inconsiderate to me. I’ll have a quick look for those tiles, then. Is there a key handy?”
Estella thought he was probably just humouring her, feeling sorry for her, but she felt better then, the way he had understood her disappointment without judging her. She pointed toward the back entry, where there was a key rack by the door.
“The one on the yellow tag,” she said, “although you needn’t bother.”
“I’ll have a look,” Nicholas said. “It’s no trouble.”
She heard the door as he stepped out on his way to the garage.
She felt her fingers tapping the side of the water glass to the rhythm of “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head.” Lonny liked to tap out rhythms, on his thighs, the soles of his feet, the surface of the table at mealtimes. She and Lonny were alike, she thought, half in the real world and half in their own poor heads. Ever since Lonny’s bell-ringing class he’d been experimenting with objects other than his hands, trying to find a sound that resembled his bell. Mercy had enrolled him in the class because everyone seemed to think he was musical with all that tapping, but she was now saying it had been a mistake because he was driving her crazy.
“Do you know about handbells?” Estella asked Hannah. “It’s a choir of a sort, with bells.”
Hannah nodded. “School,” she said. “Second grade.”
Estella stopped tapping and took a sip of her water and studied Hannah. She didn’t know what to make of her. She’d thought she was insolent two days ago, but now she seemed nervous, or curious, perhaps, as though she’d never been alone with an old lady. She had the red purse over her shoulder, but she seemed to have given up her obsession with the phone she carried in it. Estella was about to ask her about phones and what it was that had young people fiddling with them all day long, when Hannah said, “They’re splitting up. My parents. Did he tell you that?”
Estella hesitated briefly and then nodded. What reason was there to pretend she didn’t know? “I’m very sorry to hear it,” she said.
“I don’t see why it’s all up to them,” Hannah said. “They’re always talking about the family, you can’t turn around without considering the family, and then they go and make a decision like that, and, oh sure, they’ll say it’s for the best, for all four of us, but that is total crap. You know?”
“I can’t say that I do,” Estella said, but she was thinking, Oh yes, I do know that.
“Anyway,” Hannah said, “I’m not sure my dad even believes it, that it’s for the best. I suppose he’s giving her time.” She said it in a mocking tone and put air quotes around giving her time.
Hannah fell silent then. She reached for her purse as though she was going to unzip it, but then she changed her mind and let it hang once again from her shoulder.
“You young people and your phones,” Estella said. “I don’t know what the rules are, but you can get it out if you want. I don’t mind.” She wondered if using a cellphone was like smoking and you ought to get permission from the person whose house you were in. Then she said, “You don’t put pictures of yourself on the Internet, do you? Because I hear it’s very dangerous.”
After she said it, she wished she hadn’t, she might put ideas in the girl’s head. But Hannah said, “I know someone who sent a selfie to her boyfriend. Not exactly topless, but close. It was supposed to be private but then he put it on his Instagram. She got him to take it down but, oops, already out there.”
Estella hardly knew what to say to that. Topless photos at Hannah’s age? Surely not.
“And that was nothing,” Hannah said. “There’s way worse. Anyway, she was stupid, if you ask me.”
“Well, what happens to these girls with the pictures?” Estella asked. “What do they do?”
“Get smarter,” Hannah said. “If it’s not too late.”
She’d said it so nonchalantly, as though this was a fact of life, and Estella wanted to ask her more, but then Hannah said, “Anyway, I don’t have my phone anymore. I don’t need it.”
That was a change from just two days ago when her mother had been unable to keep her off it. Then she realized that Marie had probably confiscated it.
Nicholas came back in just then, saying that he didn’t see anything that looked like tiles but there were a lot of taped-up boxes on the shelves that he didn’t go into.
“Very kind of you to look, but never mind,” Estella said. “My neighbour’s husband is a contractor. Perhaps I’ll ask him what to do.” She wouldn’t, but she didn’t want Nicholas worrying that he had to fix her kitchen floor.
“Estella,” Nicholas said then. “What do you think of this idea? I could call Lake Claire and see if we could switch to a bigger cabin. Perhaps you could come with us. We’re just going for the weekend. Three nights. We’d bring you back Monday.”
He seemed to be sincere. Sincerely asking her to come to Lake Claire with them.
“I couldn’t,” she said.
She really couldn’t. You didn’t go off with strangers, even if the stranger was a Diamond, and looked exactly like your brother, and had his daughter with him. She remembered him slurring his words on the phone, even though he’d said that he hadn’t been himself.
“It would be our pleasure,” he said. “Wouldn’t it, Hannah?”
Hannah said, “I guess.”
Estella said, “I doubt they would have any bigger cottages free at this late date.” As she spoke, though, the arguments were bouncing back and forth in her head, one way, then another. Even if the offer was completely innocent, which it surely was, she didn’t want to be a burden.
But her suitcase was packed. All she would have to
do was get in the car.
Then the telephone rang. It was Peter Boone.
“Missus Diamond,” he said, “I hear there’s been a mistake.”
“Mister Boone, it’s you,” she said. Silly after all these years, but it amused her just the same.
Then he said he’d thought it was peculiar that they had no cottage booked for her. He’d worried something was wrong.
Perhaps, Estella thought, he’d assumed she was dead. He did sound very pleased to hear that she wasn’t, if that was the case.
“Just some confusion at our end,” Estella said. “You know Lydia.”
And then the Lake Claire vacation was back on course, when it had almost been derailed, and she asked if there was a family-sized cottage still available for the weekend. Peter switched Nicholas’s booking to Emily Carr, the one she and her parents had always stayed in. She didn’t know how he managed it. Perhaps a significant discount was about to come to the family who already had it booked.
After they said goodbye, she heard him say to someone else, “Estella. Oliver Diamond’s daughter.”
“We’d better treat her like royalty, then,” the other voice said before the line went dead.
She couldn’t tell what had been meant by that, but she said, “Apparently they’re going to treat us like royalty. They’re giving us the best cottage of the lot.”
She could see that Nicholas was only half paying attention. He said, “I noticed that your car in the garage is up to date with plates.”
It was true. She’d renewed the plates so Emyflor could drive her places.
“We could take your car, if you like. I don’t imagine it’s had a good run on the highway for a while. I remember my father saying a car needs a road trip to blow the carbon out. It might have been his only useful piece of advice.”
The Diamond House Page 27