by Marci Nault
Joseph walked past where the men played cards. He heard their voices but couldn’t concentrate on their conversation. As he’d done many times since Victoria returned two weeks ago, he pulled back the curtains and peeked out the window toward her home. The porch light of the yellow house was on, but inside was dark. Had she gone out in this weather?
He looked around the neighborhood and saw lights on in Molly and Bill’s place. Victoria was probably visiting with Molly. As he went to release the curtain he noticed two cars in the driveway of Maryland’s home.
“Do any of you know why there are cars parked in Maryland’s driveway?” Joseph asked. As he did, two women and Daniel’s son Aaron walked onto the porch. Carl, Bill, and Daniel joined him at the window and watched as the women shook hands with Aaron and then walked to their cars.
“What the hell’s he doing over there?” Daniel’s German accent thickened as he yelled. “Damn it! Who are those people?”
“I’m certain everything’s fine,” Joseph said.
“Nothing’s fine when it comes to my son,” Daniel said as he pressed his face closer to the window.
Aaron had married Maryland’s daughter, Patricia, and they lived in Florida. When Maryland had a stroke, Aaron moved her to Florida and placed her in a nursing home.
“The chutzpah of my son . . . He’s going to sell Maryland’s home.”
Daniel flung the curtains closed and limped toward the coatrack. “The two of them abandoned her house. Aaron didn’t even bother to board it up. Just left it for the pipes to burst and the windows to crack. If it weren’t for Tommy, that house would’ve been destroyed.” His thin arm shook as he reached for his coat.
The rain began to pound on the roof as it came down in a flash of power. “Daniel, you can’t go out in this rain. You’ll catch pneumonia,” Bill said.
“I won’t allow this. That house belongs to this community and Maryland,” Daniel spat.
Carl put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we won’t let him sell it.”
Joseph watched as Aaron walked out of the house carrying a folder that he stuck under his rain jacket. Bill went to the door and opened it as Aaron made his way along the street to Daniel’s home. Bill yelled, “Aaron, your father is over here.”
Aaron turned and ran across the street and into the warm building. Water dripped from his coat and he unbuttoned it and hung it on the coatrack while he held on to the folder.
“Bill, Carl, Joseph”—he turned to his father—“Dad.”
Joseph could see the shock on Aaron’s face as he noticed his father’s condition. His white hair jutted out to the side in desperate need of a haircut. He’d lost considerable weight and his clothing hung on him. Worse, his lungs wheezed with asthma.
“What’s in your hand?” Daniel yelled without even saying hello.
“That’s how you greet me?” Aaron said. “I haven’t seen you in four years and you try to pick a fight the first minute I’m home?”
“I know what you’re up to. You’re trying to sell Maryland’s home.”
“Yes, I am,” Aaron said. “I have a good offer and I’m taking it. Do you understand what this place is costing me? I knew if I put it on the regular market you and your men would make certain it didn’t sell.”
“Damn straight,” Carl said. “That place belongs to Maryland and it should be passed down to your children.”
“Do you think my boys want to leave Miami Beach to come and sit here all summer?”
“All you want is for us to hand over our homes so you can profit,” Daniel yelled.
“This again,” Aaron said and he pulled his hand through his hair. “You haven’t spoken to me or come to visit me in four years because I asked you to sign papers to protect your estate. Do you realize how much you’ve hurt me and my family?”
Daniel slammed his fist on the table rattling the poker chips. “Maryland signed her assets over to you, and you put her in a home. She belongs here with her friends and family, not stuck in a room with an Alzheimer’s patient who screams through the night. What you did to her was shameful, and you won’t do it to me.”
“That’s great, Dad. So what happens when you can’t take care of yourself like Maryland couldn’t?”
“She was fine.”
“She had a stroke and couldn’t see out of her left eye,” Aaron said.
“Then you should’ve come home to take care of her or hired a nurse. That’s what family does. You didn’t even bother to put up safety guards around the bathroom or install a Lifeline,” Daniel said.
Aaron shook his head, unable to speak for a moment. “There’s no talking to you. You don’t understand what it’s like to live in the modern world. I couldn’t afford a private nurse or to move back here. Patricia and I have full-time jobs and we can’t retire because money is tight. The taxes on this property are killing us. You live in this tiny community stuck in the past. The proceeds of Maryland’s house would belong to the nursing home if she hadn’t signed papers. When you need a care facility, they’re going to bleed your estate dry. I’m trying to protect you.”
Daniel slammed his fist again. “I’m not letting you put me in a home.”
“And what if there’s no choice? You people think that because you made a stupid promise to retire here, some magic fairy dust is going to keep you young. Look around, Dad. You’re getting older. You’re pretending, just like you did when I was a kid, you’re not seeing the reality that could come in just another ten years.”
“Pretending?” Daniel coughed and took a puff from his inhaler.
“This place was always a fantasy to you. You pretended we were like them. They’re rich Episcopalians. You were their Jewish accountant who had to be given this house. Now you want to pretend that this is the paradise of the glory days. Well, what happens when you can no longer drive and you can’t live alone?” Aaron asked.
Daniel forced his words through constricted airways. “So I should sign my house over to you so you can sell it and move me to a nursing home to die? What about passing down heritage and family traditions?”
“What’s my heritage? Two parents rescued from concentration camps—not a house in Nagog. And when you can’t take care of yourself anymore, you’re going to lose this heritage because you didn’t sign the papers,” Aaron said. “And it’s not like I haven’t offered other solutions.”
“To sell my home and for me to move into some retirement place in Florida. No thanks,” Daniel said.
“You could be near your actual family.” Aaron took a deep breath. “I can’t do this right now, Dad. I didn’t come here to fight with you. I’m doing what needs to be done.”
Aaron moved past Daniel. Bill and Carl stood together and blocked his way to the door. “We won’t let you sell her house to a stranger,” Bill said. “We’ll take care of the taxes and the upkeep.”
“And what happens when you can’t do that any longer? Are you going to bleed your children’s inheritance dry? You don’t understand that I’m doing this community a favor. These homes are going to be hard enough to sell because of the age of the community. Selling this house to this young woman starts the process that needs to happen. Things have to change, whether you like it or not.” Aaron pointed his finger at them. “And the two of you better stay out of this. If you touch that house with any of your little pranks I will call the police. And Dad . . . I won’t bail you out.” He opened the door and closed it behind him.
Joseph put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. Aaron had never been comfortable in Nagog. For the other children, this community had been a place of sanctuary that created wonderful childhood memories when they visited, days of running through the sprinklers, Popsicles from the ice cream truck, and barbecues. Christmas transformed the street into a winter wonderland of lights and decorations. Parties were thrown and people danced on the patio.
For Aaron, living here hadn’t been the same experience. Among the other children he’d been an outcast. While everyone
else attended private school and lived in Boston, Aaron resided year-round in Nagog and received a public education. Instead of coming to the cookouts on Friday nights, he celebrated Shabbat with his parents.
The fifties were a time of anti-Semitism, and though Nagog didn’t agree with the sentiments of the nation, racist jokes were common in school. Many times, Aaron became the target of the Nagog kids’ ignorance. Even though he married within Nagog, he’d never wanted to stay close.
“I wonder if that young girl is trying to buy the house,” Bill said as he moved back to the poker table. His girth pressed against his belt and pant seams as he sat.
“From what I could see through the rain, she had a pretty little caboose,” Carl said.
“Too skinny. Women should have something to hold on to,” Bill said.
“Could the two of you focus?” Daniel boomed. “We can’t allow Aaron to do this. With a girl like her around, young men will follow. There’ll be drinking and loud music.”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” Joseph said.
Carl rubbed his bulbous nose. “We could make Nagog an over-fifty-five community. Wouldn’t mind seeing that girl in a bikini this summer, but that house belongs in Maryland’s family.”
“Over fifty-five won’t stop Aaron from selling it to someone outside the community. Plus, we can’t take retroactive action if she has a signed agreement,” Bill said.
“Then we take Aaron to court. We can’t let our kids think they can sell our homes and put us in care facilities. I’m not spending my last years pasting macaroni to cardboard like a four-year-old.”
“Daniel’s right,” Carl said. “My daughter’s been talking about us moving to a happy retirement community that transitions to assisted living. I’m not spending the rest of my years being watched over by some nurse and being stuck with hundreds of old people.”
“Yeah, my kids took me on a tour of one of those places,” Bill said. “The whole damn place had pastel colors.”
“I have an idea,” Carl said.
Joseph knew the mischievous glint in Carl’s eye. Along with admiring women’s backsides, Carl had four favorite things in life: food, sports, a good cigar, and pranks. After Victoria’s father’s death, Carl’s family had bought the Rose Plastics Company. Carl added a new line of gags like whoopee cushions, fake doo-doo, and phony vomit.
Carl winked at Bill, but Joseph worried about the plan Carl had in mind.
Victoria and Molly sat around the folding table in Molly’s sunroom, dominoes arranged in an elaborate pattern, while Sarah and Agatha sat on the wicker couch and knitted small pink and blue baby hats. Evelyn sat across from the women in a large white wicker chair that engulfed her tiny form. Molly’s homemade brownies, cookies, and cakes lined the buffet table. Though each woman had taken a small sample of the desserts, the goodies sat untouched on their plates.
Molly tapped her domino against the table, creating noise in the silence. Victoria knew that she’d arranged this gathering in the hope that everyone would allow history to be left in the past, but the small room was thick with words unsaid.
Evelyn Price’s eyes were wide with confusion, her white curls like a halo. In her pink turtleneck and sweater, she still looked like a little girl. Victoria gave her a small wave and Evelyn smiled just like when they were children: a big, radiant smile that spread to her pink cheeks. Then she looked out the window and stared at Maryland’s house. Her friend’s illness was another reminder that Victoria hadn’t made amends in time.
Sarah cleared her throat. She lacked only a broom and a pointy hat to complete her resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz. Her black lace collar accentuated her pinched face, and her bun pulled her hazel eyes tight as if she’d had a face-lift. Where was the teenager who’d snuck into Victoria’s bed with a flashlight at night and told her dirty jokes? Molly had always followed the rules, whereas Sarah had been Victoria’s partner in crime as they snuck cigarettes and alcohol.
“Sarah, how’s Beatrice?” Victoria asked.
“My daughter is fine,” Sarah said as she continued to knit.
“Will she be coming around?”
“She remarried and lives in Vermont. I don’t see her that often,” Sarah said through tight rose-tinted lips.
“Oh, congratulations.”
“For what? My daughter’s breaking the Lord’s law and divorcing her first husband or for taking a new one without getting an annulment from the church?” Sarah looked at Victoria.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”
Sarah grunted and clicked her needles together.
Agatha Lowe put down her knitting and picked up a large brownie. Agatha had grown up in the community and attended Dana Hall School with the other girls, but she had never been part of Victoria’s inner circle. She hadn’t liked playing make-believe or staging tea parties. For the most part she’d kept her nose in books and only joined the other children when forced by her mother. Of course, it might have had something to do with the fact that Victoria had never made her feel welcome.
Agatha hadn’t shed a tear when Victoria left—she’d celebrated. They’d never been close. When they were twelve, Agatha had auditioned for the school dance team. As captain, Victoria made certain only the most talented—and prettiest—girls made the squad. Agatha, in a black leotard and pink tights, had looked like a lumbering hippo to Victoria, whose long, graceful legs were accentuated by her own ballerina outfit. She hadn’t let Agatha make the cut.
Agatha listlessly chewed on the brownie and fingered the large brace that covered her right knee. Molly had said that she’d had three surgeries on it in the last few years. She seemed to have given up on her appearance—her hair had been cut short and lay flat against her head, her breasts hung against her belly. She’d never been a beauty queen, though in the years before her husband’s death, when Victoria visited in the summer, she’d seen Agatha motherly and soft, in bright sundresses, her auburn hair flowing over her shoulders. The gray sweat suit Agatha wore today reminded Victoria of that awkward teenager.
“I think we should take a trip,” Molly announced. “Someplace warm like the Caribbean or the Bahamas. We’ll lie on the beach and drink fruity umbrella drinks.”
“Why?” Agatha asked.
Because she’s trying to force us together, Victoria thought, until we either kill each other or work things out.
“We need an adventure. Clear out the winter stiffness and prepare for summer. We’ll buy new sundresses and bathing suits. It will be a fun adventure.”
“I have no interest in flying. It’s too dangerous these days with terrorism and poor plane maintenance. With all the new regulations, it’s too much of a hassle,” Sarah said. She cut the end of her yarn and placed a blue hat on the coffee table. Then she grabbed pink yarn and began a new line of stitches.
“It’s not dangerous. And life is a hassle only if you make it one,” Victoria said.
Sarah didn’t look up. “I did my traveling when I was younger. I’m content right where I am.”
What had become of this once-vibrant group?
Only a few years ago they planned vacations, sat on boards, threw parties, and attended charity functions. They wore perfume and shopped in boutiques, went to Boston for movies and the theater. Molly had told Victoria that they’d barely left Nagog this winter. If they’d let Victoria back into their lives, she had to try to shake them up, get them out and moving again.
Sarah looked out the window toward Maryland’s home. “Did you see that Aaron came to visit and he showed the house to a young woman?”
So, they were finally going to discuss the news of the day. Victoria had been in her mother’s sitting area staring out the window at the rain when she saw the little blue car pull in and watched as the young woman stepped out of the car in her stylish red raincoat and high boots. Victoria’s presence hadn’t allowed the old friends to gossip the way they would have if she hadn’t bee
n there, but they couldn’t hold it in forever.
“I saw that girl through my window, and we don’t want her kind here,” Sarah said. “Tommy came over to fix our step, and you know Tommy, he won’t say a harsh word about anyone, but I could tell he didn’t like her either.” Sarah put her knitting on the coffee table and paused for theatrical purposes. “I stopped and spoke to the men before I came over here and they say she’s already made an offer to buy the house.”
Molly clapped her hands together. “Maybe she’s married and wants a place to raise a family. It would be nice to have a baby around.”
“Mothers don’t drive tiny cars,” Agatha said.
Sarah’s lips puckered till lines fanned around her mouth. “I think that girl is looking for a place to party.”
Agatha nodded in agreement. “We don’t want young people living here, they have no values. My grandkids are spoiled. They party and go on extravagant vacations. They refuse to marry and settle down, and they hop from one partner to the next.” She nodded toward Victoria to emphasize the immorality.
“Well, we can’t let her move in,” Sarah said.
“It’s a young woman, not the end of the world,” Victoria said aloud before she could edit her thoughts.
The circle went silent except for the tap of Sarah’s black shoes against the hardwood floor.
“Well, it’s not like it matters to you. I doubt you’ll be here more than a few months,” Agatha said.
Molly put her hand on Victoria’s arm. “She’s here to stay.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” Sarah said.
“She probably wants a new playmate now that Annabelle is gone,” Agatha said.
“Stop it!” Molly said. “You will not speak to her in such a painful way again. Do I make myself clear?”
Victoria looked at Sarah, trying to recall the young girl with whom she’d once shared her deepest secrets.
Sarah glared at Victoria, daring her to challenge her. “Every time you show up, someone gets hurt. Last time you came home, Joseph paid the price, and this time, if you push to have this young woman move in, we all will. You’ve never cared about being here, but you could at least respect that this is our home and we would like it to stay in our family.”