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"You made a D on your anatomy midterm," Maydean said. She straightened the spread on Adrienne's unmade bed and sat down as if she were afraid she might pick up a parasite.

  "You didn't need to drive up here to tell me that," Adrienne said. "I know that."

  Charmette sat back on her bed and picked distractedly at an ingrown toenail. Beside her the chicken simmered on the hot plate.

  "You must be sick," Maydean said. "You wouldn't make a D if you weren't sick."

  "I'm fine," Adrienne said. "If I were in pre-med, I'd learn all the bones in the body. I only need a C." She tucked her pink wool bell-bottoms around her ankles and sat on her feet. "Did I tell you I changed my major?"

  "We're majoring in sociology now," Charmette offered.

  "I thought you always wanted to write for the paper," Maydean said. Her brown eyes rounded with the threat of tears. "I want you to come home and let me take you to see Dr. Murphy."

  "If I do that, I'll make D's in everything," Adrienne said.

  "You might have mono or something," Maydean said. "Maybe leukemia. They say listlessness is one of the symptoms." She stroked her chin to stop the quivering that had set in there. "Although nobody in our family has ever had cancer. They say it may be hereditary."

  "I promise I do not have leukemia," Adrienne said.

  "She might have a brain tumor," Charmetre said.

  Adrienne picked up her fork and threw it point first at Charmette.

  "We've all had hemorrhoids," Bertie offered. "That's the only thing I know of that we've all had. I remember when I had mine removed." She clamped her lips together, smearing her dark red lipstick at the corners. "I think I went in

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  on a Wednesday afternoon, and just in case anything bad happened, I played my album from The Sound of Music and had a good cry." She smiled.

  "Do you want me to flunk out of school?" Adrienne asked as if Bertie had not spoken. "Look at my tongue." She stretched her tongue out as far as it would go and kept talking. "That's a perfectly healthy tongue."

  "I hope we don't get what she's got," Bertie said, and backed tentatively toward the hall.

  "I don't have anything!" Adrienne screamed. "Do you want me to come home and flunk out?" She leapt up and ran to the foot of the bed where she kept her biggest red suitcase, a graduation gift from Maydean. "I don't care." Mad and on a roll, she yanked the luggage out and flung it open in the middle of the floor "I'll need underwear" She pulled open a dresser drawer and dumped its entire contents into the open bag.

  "Are we a little short-tempered tonight?" Charmette sat up.

  Adrienne shoved the drawer back into place and sat on the floor next to the suitcase.

  "Bart Ledbetter just came back from U.T.," Maydean said, as if she had just remembered. "He decided to take some courses at Lancaster Junior College." She did not look at Adrienne when she said this.

  Adrienne dated Bart Ledbetter until she left for Peabody. Maydean didn't know it, but Adrienne had written him a get lost letter that had pulled no punches.

  "I graduated from Lancaster Junior College," Bertie chirped. "Back then it was a girl's school and boys weren't even allowed to walk on the side of the street where the classrooms were." She raised her straight gray eyebrows and eased back into the room. "Let's see, I took Bible, and Arithmetic, and Sewing. I didn't do too well on the sewing. I never will forget, I made this dress of lavender organdy and I put the sleeves in backwards. Mama fixed it, but I never would wear it." She gripped the handle of her black pocketbook.

  Maydean gritted her teeth at Bertie. "If you're not too sick to get out, you could take some courses at Lancaster," she said.

  "Mother, I am not sick," Adrienne said. She pulled a pair of black lace panties from the heap and snapped the elastic. "Just because I made a D doesn't mean I am sick."

  "Where did you get those?" Maydean asked, looking suspiciously at the bikini underwear.

  "Cain Sloan," Adrienne said. "Why?"

  "I didn't know they had that sort of thing."

  Adrienne stood up. "I hate to rush you," she said. "But it'll be after ten by the time you get back to Lancaster."

  "I wish you would go with us," Maydean said. Her lower lip sagged. "What if you get too sick to call home?"

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  "I'll call you, Mrs. Crockmire," Charmette said, rising to hug Maydean. "Don't worry about our girl. We'll keep an eye on her."

  "I'll have straight A's by the end of the term," Adrienne said, regretting her words as soon as they left her mouth.

  "I hate to leave," Maydean said, jingling her keys.

  "I'll walk you to your car," Adrienne said.

  "Oh, you can just walk us to the lobby," Maydean said. "I wouldn't want anything to get you."

  For years, Adrienne wondered what Maydean said to herself on the way back to Lancaster that night, if she had considered force, or if she had given up, abdicated what she thought was her responsibility. Out the restaurant window, Adrienne sees Maydean with Mabel Parker, who goes to Maydean's church and has known Adrienne since she was little. Maydean's shoulders, in the crepe dress she is wearing, are small and rounded in a way Adrienne has not noticed before. She rises to greet them as they enter the porch.

  "Hey, Mabel," she calls, and hugs Mabel, who has become stouter with the years. Adrienne is glad to see Mabel, but her presence will make it difficult to talk about Mark.

  "We had two christenings," Maydean explains. "We left as quick as we could. I hope the buffet is still hot."

  She deposits her purse next to Adrienne, and as she does, notices the Mother's Day gift in the chair. "You can open it after lunch," Adrienne says. "I meant to give it to you before you went to church, but we got busy looking at pictures."

  Maydean smiles and moves toward the buffet line, which lengthens as they stand talking.

  "Your mama told me you were here and I just had to come see you," Mabel says as she ushers Adrienne into the line. "What have they got today?"

  "They have chess pie," Maydean offers.

  Mabel rolls her eyes.

  Adrienne's catering business specializes in continental cuisine and American dishes with a southwestern influence. But when she comes to Lancaster, she forgets what she does for a living. That way she can down helpings of fried okra and squash casserole with no remorse. She searches the buffet now and chooses a predictable slice of roast beef with green beans and okra. Counting calories, she skips the pie.

  "Didn't you get a dessert?" Maydean asks, as they return to their table.

  "I don't need it," Adrienne says.

  "I'll go get you one," Maydean says, and scurries away from the table.

  "If she brings it, I'll eat it," Adrienne explains to Mabel. "That's why I didn't get it to begin with."

  "It's still warm," Maydean says as she places the pie in front of Adrienne and looks at the package.

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  "You can open that now if you want to," Adrienne says.

  "Ooh," Maydean says. "How pretty." She removes the package, sits, and tears the pink paper quietly. "It's like your purse." Excited, she lifts the bag from its box. "I had told her to get me one like it if she found one," Maydean explains to Mabel. ''Thank you." Maydean gives Adrienne a one-arm hug and arranges the paper so she can eat her lunch. "I got Mother some bedroom slippers," she says, testing the temperature of her roast beef. "She won't even know it's Mother's Day." Her voice clouds. "She looks normal, but she doesn't have any mind."

  "Does she have Alzheimer's?" Mabel asks.

  "I don't think so," Maydean says. "They think it's just hardening of the arteries. Her brain doesn't get enough blood." She waves toward the top of her own head to illustrate. "I'm trying to watch what I eat now so I won't get it."

  "I'd just as soon be a vegetarian," Mabel says, picking at the fried chicken breast on her plate. "I'd never miss meat."

  "From what they say, you might as well be one," Maydean says, popping a fork full of green beans into her mouth. "I'm eating more orang
es, too," she goes on. "They say they help prevent hardening of the arteries. And I quit putting cream cheese on my bagels."

  "Get the light kind," Adrienne says.

  "I did, but it still has . . . I forget how many grams of fat, but it's a lot." Maydean tastes the beef. "This roast beef is not even warm," she says.

  They eat in silence, each wondering, Adrienne suspects, if the next bite will be the one full of bacteriasalmonella, or the dreaded ptomaine, which Maydean contracted once from eating ham pulled directly from the bone at a church supper. The catering business has taught Adrienne to be bacteria conscious, but the impulse to sniff everything she puts in her mouth comes from Maydean.

  The silence offers the perfect opportunity to mention Mark, but Adrienne freezes for a moment. Her mother will be happy, probably too happy. She takes a big sip of iced tea and leaps.

  "Did I tell you I went out with someone last weekend?" she asks. This statement is true; she and Mark went out to dinner and a movie.

  Maydean and Mabel put down their forks in unison and stare at Adrienne.

  "He teaches at Peabody," Adrienne says. "English."

  "How did you meet?" Mabel asks. She does not attempt to hide her curiosity from Adrienne.

  "At a wedding I catered," Adrienne says. "He had never eaten prosciutto before. He followed me to the kitchen for more and that was that." The information omittedthat the wedding was in Februarywill come out later. Now there is no reason to complicate the issue, to make Maydean ask why she has not been told sooner.

  "Well," Maydean says. "Is he nice?"

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  "What does he look like?" Mabel asks.

  Adrienne describes Mark, his blonde beard, his perfect naturally curly hairAdrienne must perm hers nowhis fondness for her cats, his age. They are in fact better matched than Adrienne can believe, yet she is not interested in marriage. She does not say this to Maydean, but it is true. Marriage did not improve her relationship with Scott, so she sees no reason to rely on the institution now.

  "He's six feet tall," Adrienne adds.

  "You've never dated anybody that tall before," Maydean says.

  "When will we meet him?" Mabel asks.

  "Sometime soon," Adrienne answers. She feels silly now for holding out. Small things please Maydean and Mabel, and Adrienne is not sure why she thinks she is on trial when she offers news.

  "Well," Maydean says again, and reaches for her pie.

  In that motion, Adrienne thinks Maydean approves. But when she tells Mark, Adrienne will wonder the same way she wonders about the night Maydean and Bertie drove to Nashville. A boyfriend, even a younger boyfriend, makes Adrienne look normal. Maydean and Mabel know about Cher and Linda Evans. The issue is moot. Disappointment tugs at Adrienne. She is glad to avoid confrontation, but she would have liked to produce a small ripple, if not a wave.

  "The Lord," Mabel says, pausing with a forkful of pie at her chin. "I forgot to tell you about Dot Jenkin's daughter, Niki."

  "What happened?" Maydean asks.

  "She sold all her furniture and disappeared for two weeks. Dot found her in Tacoma, Washington, with this guitar player from some band that went through here." Mabel eats her pie while Maydean considers the news.

  "What did Dot do?" Maydean asks.

  "Nothing," Mabel says. "The girl is twenty-five or twenty-six."

  "Reckon she ought to have her committed?" Maydean says. "I mean she might get on drugs and do something to hurt herself."

  Adrienne sighs. Even in moments of abandon, she is always careful. She has never passed out drunk and she thinks too much of her furniture to sell it for a man.

  "You're not eating your pie," Maydean notices.

  "Maybe just a bite," Adrienne says.

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  While Maydean pays the check, Adrienne walks Mabel to her car.

  "What's your friend's name?" Mabel asks.

  "Mark," Adrienne says. "Mark Tyler."

  "Well, we're anxious to meet him," she says, and kisses Adrienne on the cheek. "It's time you were happy."

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  "I know," Adrienne says, but she wonders exactly what Mabel means. After living with Scott, she has been happy just to run her business in peace.

  Adrienne waves as Maydean goes to her own car, and they drive separately to the retirement home. She wishes she did not have to visit her grandmother now because she knows what she will see will depress her. Scott never understood the dynamic between Adrienne and her mother and grandmother. For years before Wait died, Maydean smoked behind Bertie's back. At night with the fan on in their upstairs apartment, she drew guiltily on Kents and swore Adrienne to secrecy. Adrienne never told, but she suspected Bertie knew. When the two women bickered at the breakfast table, Adrienne always expected Bertie to accuse triumphantly with a pointed finger, "I know you've been smoking up there all these years." Bertie never did. Scott thought she never knew, that she was too flighty to pay that much attention to anything. Adrienne would have bet her furniture that Scott was wrong. Every day Bertie held her peace about the smoking, she gained a little more power over Maydean. She never used the power, but she kept it just in case, an ace in the hole. This kind of subtlety eluded Scott. When Maydean told Bertie that Adrienne was divorcing Scott, she had smiled. "I never liked him anyway," she said. "Good."

  Adrienne turns up the drive of the Hewlett House and watches in her rearview mirror for Maydean's car, a large black Chrysler with a red streak down the side. In her turquoise dress, Maydean is still a large woman behind the wheel of this car. Like Adrienne, she drives too fast. As she pulls into a space and gets out, the engine barely quiet, Adrienne smiles. Without Bertie and Maydean, she isn't sure she would really know how tall she is. The stairsteps have always been her yardstick.

  "She won't know who you are," Maydean explains as they enter the brand new wing where Bertie's room is. "She knows who Adrienne is, but she won't know you're Adrienne. Does that make sense?"

  "Yeah," Adrienne says. She thinks about turning around and running for her car.

  "At least she's happy," Maydean says.

  They stop at a door and Maydean pushes it open. Inside, Bertie sits on a blue peacock print sofa. Her head dips to her chin in sleep. Maydean touches her shoulder and wakes her. "Happy Mother's Day," she says, and gives Bertie the gift wrapped in lilac flowered paper.

  Bertie looks a little frail, but not much different than she did six months ago.

  "Is it Mother's Day?" she asks, and looks at the gift, puzzled.

  "It is," Maydean explains. "And you're my mother. That's for you."

  Bertie's eyebrows dart together as she thinks about what Maydean says. "Am I your mother?" she asks.

  "I'm Maydean," Maydean says.

  "You are?" Bertie is surprised.

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  "This is Adrienne," Maydean says as she motions for Adrienne to step forward.

  "Adrienne?" Bertie smiles. "What's this?" She looks back at the gift in her hand.

  "It's from me," Maydean says. "Open it."

  Bertie picks at the Scotch tape at the end of the package, then tears the violet paper. The slippers she pulls from the box are blue brocade, and she slips them on, one at a time. "Thank you," she grins.

 

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