“Come on in. I’ll get it.” He motioned her in. He didn’t attempt to kiss her. He must have sensed her still-cool feelings toward him. She followed him. He had a pile of menus by the kitchen phone.
“Let me order it. Seems like I owe you ladies a meal, anyway. Why don’t you bring Dorothy over here? I’ll even spring for real plates. Later, you and I can talk.”
Oh, he was clever. Without committing himself, he was luring her in again. She could have refused on Dorothy’s behalf, although there was no genuine reason to. Dorothy would enjoy being Bruce’s guest. Part of Pam wanted to be with Bruce despite everything.
“All right. I’ll find out what she wants.” She gave him a rather harried look and departed with the menu.
Bruce was cleaning up his umbrella table and chairs as she returned. “Okay if we eat out here?”
She handed him the marked up menu and nodded. There was plenty of sunlight left and it was warm out.
“It’s Friday night. Figure an hour for delivery.”
It was raining a little when Bruce phoned that the food had arrived. They scurried across the back deck to his kitchen door. Pam breathed a secret sigh of relief as he ushered them into his dining room. Dorothy would never have said anything, but she thought of kitchens as where the help ate.
Dorothy remarked, “These furnishings look familiar.”
“They should. I’m renting from your old neighbors.” At Pam’s enquiring look, he shrugged. “I’d never lived near a beach before and wasn’t sure if I’d like it. Thought I’d give it a try before buying.”
“Sensible,” Dorothy said. “I’ve seen many people buy homes here who imagined they would enjoy the ocean. It takes a certain kind of person. Some do not last long.”
“Oh, Mom,” Pam said. “You’re not exactly roughing it on the frontier here anymore.”
Although the houses along this stretch of beach were not ostentatious, they weren’t affordable to people of modest means. The locals whose families had lived in the area for many decades or even centuries weren’t foolish enough to live directly on the ocean. Being on the beach required constant major repairs, and only rich people could afford them.
Before her mother could crush her with a counter-argument, Bruce deflected her with a question.
“You’ve had hurricanes and rogue high tides?”
“We have indeed, young man,” Dorothy replied, and launched into tales of past storms.
Later, Dorothy ostentatiously said goodnight and insisted on going home on her own. “The rain has stopped. I’m not likely to get lost walking fifty feet,” she joked, pointing at the well-marked path between his deck and her side door that led into her kitchen.
Bruce and Pam’s eyes met as each remembered the source of their quarrel, Dorothy’s recent adventure in town. He cleared his throat. Pam stared at her feet. At the continued silence, Dorothy gave them a briefly baffled look and left.
When Pam moved to follow her mother, Bruce said, “We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to hear more of your wild notions.” She spoke quietly, as he did, so her mother wouldn’t hear as she walked away.
“I apologize about my phone call.”
“For which part? Claiming my mother has Alzheimer’s or hanging up on me?” She nearly hissed the last words.
As she made to leave again, he moved to get between her and the door, then obviously thought better of it. He paused only inches from her. Pam’s breathing accelerated. Because he was so close? Or because she was angry at him? Their bodies were nearly touching. If either of them moved a little, they could be embracing. Her heart started to pound. She looked up into his face and saw his thoughts had followed hers. His eyes were focused on her lips.
She dragged herself back from the precipice. “Bruce,” she whispered.
“What?” He sounded distracted.
“I’m leaving now.”
“You are?” She could feel his warm breath on her ear. Oh, this was not good. Then his arms surrounded and enfolded her. Her breasts settled against his chest, sending a tingle down inside her body to the part where she wanted more of him.
She forced herself to step out of his embrace. “If we keep on this way, we won’t talk.”
“Would that be so terrible?” he asked.
“You’re wrong about my mother.”
Bruce gave her a disappointed look and then made a frustrated turn around his kitchen before saying, “Okay, don’t believe me. But be on the alert for the signs.”
She sighed. “I do believe you care about her and are sincere.”
#
If only that were completely true. He squirmed inwardly, knowing he was keeping something important from Pam and knowing he would eventually pay for doing so. But not now.
“Will you come back later, after your mother retires for the night?” he asked. He couldn’t keep his voice from sounding hopeful. Pam gazed at him, wide-eyed. He didn’t like that she still seemed poised for flight.
“Uh…it’s been a long day,” she practically stuttered.
He cocked his head. “No?”
She rushed into speech. “It’s—” she paused, obviously searching for the right words, “I think maybe we got ahead of ourselves. We don’t know each other very well yet.”
“We’ll talk. Anything else is up to you,” he promised.
She nodded at last. “All right.” Then she scuttled off.
He wondered if she would return after all.
Chapter 25
Pam did not return to Bruce that night. She wasn’t sure why. Had his notion that her mother was declining mentally soured her on their relationship? No. He meant well. He happened to be wrong, that was all. She was over being angry at him for his mistake.
Something else was happening. Pam felt she was changing, getting stronger. She didn’t want to be confused in the midst of such change by a relationship with a man.
Sex was overrated. Or maybe the truth was she had no great interest in sex that wasn’t a celebration of deep emotions. She and Bruce hardly knew each other, and he had never offered any significant insights into what made him tick. She hadn’t confided much herself, either. They had been too distracted by their immediate sexual attraction. Just like this evening. A mistake to go down that road without knowing the whole man.
She called him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, when he picked up. “I’ve had a long day and I’m going to sleep now.”
“I’m sorry, too,” he replied, but didn’t try to argue with her.
Of course after that, she couldn’t sleep for hours.
The next morning, she was up bright and early, and her mind wasn’t on Bruce. Her immediate goal was to tackle the piles of mail and papers in the dining room. Her mother had claimed she would get to them, but the stacks kept getting taller. Surely, with Pam’s help, Dorothy could go through it all and they could have the dining room in usable shape again?
Breakfast went fine, but when Pam broached the subject of the mail, things went downhill. “No, I do not want to go over all those papers today, Pamela. I have better things to do with my time.” Dorothy spoke in her usual decisive tone.
“Like what? What else is on your schedule? I’m here and I can help you. Let’s do it.”
They went around and around. Dorothy finally said, “This is not your house, Pamela, and I have not given you the right to interfere in my affairs. I am perfectly capable of handling them myself.” Then she stalked away to the sunroom and sat in her favorite chair. She turned her face to the water and seemed to ignore Pam from then on. Pam was left with a choice of carrying the battle to an extreme, or subsiding. She shut up.
She wandered around for a few minutes, fussing with the furniture, straightening and neatening. Then Dorothy seemed to doze off.
Why should Pam take her mother’s refusal as law? Pam wasn’t a child. She quietly picked up a batch of unopened mail and retired upstairs to her bedroom. Maybe if her mother could not see her, and didn’t have to do a
nything about the mail herself, it wouldn’t cause further strife.
Oh, lord. The top letter was from the power commission. Because of nonpayment, the electricity would be cut off on Monday.
She couldn’t approach her mother, especially considering her recent attitude. Dorothy would snap at her. She picked up the phone and called the power company, hoping someone was there on a weekend.
“We need your mother’s permission before we can discuss her account with you,” the customer service rep said.
“I can’t get that right now,” she replied. What to do? She explained the situation. “I don’t know what’s going on. My mother is very elderly. Maybe she forgot to pay this bill.”
The rep was sympathetic, but adamant she could not discuss the details of the account without Dorothy’s permission. She suggested Pam could get a power of attorney.
“I can’t get a power of attorney over a weekend. What can I do now, today? I don’t want you to shut off the lights.”
“Why don’t you pay it yourself?”
“How much does she…ah, let me rephrase that. How much should I pay today to keep the power on for the next month?”
The rep named a figure of several hundred dollars, explaining it was the equivalent to three month’s bills under ordinary circumstances. She also suggested Pam set up automatic bill paying. “If you mother has regular income and direct deposit, you can schedule a payment automatically every month.”
She got more details from the rep, then pulled out one of her credit cards from her purse to make an immediate payment by phone. The rep kindly waived the usual service charge, and even said that Pam should call and ask for her specifically by name once she obtained her mother’s power of attorney.
“You’re a good daughter,” the phone rep said. “I hope everything works out for you.”
Pam hung up with the feeling she had averted a major disaster. Now she was afraid to look at what the next envelopes held. She was beginning to get an idea of what they must be.
After an hour, she found things were not quite as bad as she’d imagined. Her mother was from the generation that seldom used credit cards. There were no horrific statements from Mastercard or Visa with outstanding balances subjected to usurious finance charges and penalties. At least, not in this pile.
Dorothy was behind on important payments, not the least of which were the annual real estate taxes. They were late, but the house hadn’t been sold at tax auction yet. Yet. Pam shuddered. What if she hadn’t come out here this weekend?
She heard the kitchen doorbell ring and roused herself. Dorothy had heard it too, and was already there, accepting the weekly food delivery from the young woman. The girl was well trained. She went straight to the refrigerator and pulled out all the old food and replaced it with the new. Then she examined the leftovers.
“I’ll take this little bit of chicken,” she said to Dorothy. “It’s still good, but rather dry.”
Dorothy agreed. “Please get rid of it.”
That was why there was no old, moldy food in the fridge. The delivery girl cleaned it out each week. It took an extra five minutes, but the girl knew the drill. She efficiently checked all the prior week’s containers. Seeing Pam had come in, she explained. “We always remove the expired food. That way, your mom can’t get sick by eating spoiled potato salad. Some people don’t notice the sell by dates.”
Her mother meanwhile was writing out a check, which she handed the girl, along with a nice cash tip. Ah, that was why there was no overdue food bill in the stack Pam had reviewed. They said goodbye to the girl, who even took the spoiled food with her.
Dorothy was in good humor again. “Now we can have lunch.”
“Great idea.” Maybe once her mother had a meal in her, she would be approachable about her finances. Or maybe Pam should postpone that talk. First, she should go through more of those now ominous-seeming stacks of mail in the dining room. Then she should call Alexander and ask him what to do.
She had thought she would cut this weekend short. Now, she wanted more time, time in which to quietly go through everything. She was certain she couldn’t do it while Dorothy was in the same room with her.
Dorothy ate a good meal, then got ready for her walk with Bruce and Yappie. Pam merely waved to him from farther inside the house when he came by. Once her mother was busy with the dog, Pam tore into the piles.
There were a stack of late notices from the power company, including a summary of the charges which indicated Dorothy hadn’t paid the bill in at least three months. Three months ago. That’s when Alexander moved away. It had to mean something.
As she dug further, she found the gas was supposed to have been turned off a few weeks ago. When the gas company arrived to manually shut it, Dorothy must have paid off the entire bill with a check on the spot.
The newspaper bills had piled up, but it looked as if possibly the agent had come by personally to collect a check. There was a letter from him saying he would be by next month to pick up the next payment in person. Decent of him, and not surprising. Dorothy had generously helped many local small business people get their start. She’d ridden banks to enforce fair lending laws, and hectored real estate agents into leasing properties to retail beginners, and more.
Here was the water bill. In arrears, of course. Dorothy was lucky. She still had sixty days before the water would be shut off.
Pam could no longer dodge the truth. All these letters had been unopened. She had hard evidence her mother had not attended to the business of her life for at least several months, unless prompted by a personal encounter. Why not? Had Alexander handled everything for her in recent years? If so, how could he have just moved away without alerting anyone and arranging for her financial care? Was Dorothy merely lacking in motivation? Or was it something more complicated?
Could it be dementia, as Bruce had intimated?
She realized tears were dripping down her cheeks. Her super-competent, commanding terror of a mother. What was happening?
The signs had all been there, but she hadn’t wanted to admit the truth. The mother she grew up with would never have had piles of papers cluttering her dining room, or unread newspapers and magazines. That woman would not have sat doing nothing for hours at a time, as Dorothy now did in the sunroom much of the day. There had been a fundamental change. Pam had seen it, but she had refused to believe what the change meant. Her mother was getting past it.
She had to talk to Alexander. At this hour, all she got was his wife.
“Edie, did you notice signs of dementia in Mom in the last year?”
“I’m not sure I’d recognize them,” her sister-in-law said with her usual air of uncertainty. “I’ve never known anyone who had it.”
“Neither have I. Until now. I’m not sure myself if that’s what has happened. I’ve heard that what is often taken for senility in elderly people is actually depression and malnutrition.” She was reaching hard into her small store of knowledge about the problems of the elderly. Why didn’t she know more?
“Isn’t Dorothy eating?”
“Yes, she eats. Please, have Alexander call as soon as he comes in.”
Then she called her sister. There was an unbridgeable age gap between them. Christine had been born five years before Pam, and they’d had very little to do with each other as children, except for some enforced babysitting when Christine was in her teens. Christine had openly resented that their mother had not paid her for the chore. Sometimes it seemed to Pam that Christine still bore a grudge. They’d never developed a good relationship as adults. While each was busy with their own lives, and Dorothy was doing fine, it hadn’t mattered much.
The conversation didn’t go well. “No, I don’t know anything about Mother’s financial affairs. Nor her health, for that matter.” She brushed off Pam’s effort to engage her. “I’m extremely busy with my law practice. And with my son. I have no time for this. You don’t have a career, or even a job now, I hear. Can’t you handle it?”
“Don’t you care about our mother?” It was a cruel question to ask her sister, but she couldn’t keep the words from bursting out of her mouth.
“My feelings for our mother are my own business. It’s not for you to question whether I care. Anyway, I can’t do anything for her long distance. You’re the one who lives nearby. You don’t have the heavy responsibilities I carry. You’re the ideal one to handle Mother.”
She wondered if Christine could hear how utterly selfish she sounded. True, Christine and her husband bore a major burden. One of their sons was bipolar and had been caught in several major messes which had taken all Christine’s lawyer know-how and connections to smooth over. Their son still wasn’t a functioning adult and probably never would be.
“How about if we need money? Christine? If Mother needs money, can you kick in something?”
“Ask me when you know for sure. I can’t deal with this now.” Christine said a curt goodbye and hung up.
That was happening to her a lot these days. What with all the executive offices she had called that had basically told her to drop dead, and then Bruce getting mad at her, and—
Bruce. Oh, heavens. He had been right. He had seen the signs and recognized them. She hadn’t. She owed him an apology. Maybe she should ask him for help, too, because right now she was at sea.
The noise of their return floated up from downstairs. She left the papers every which way on her bed and went down to the sunroom to greet them.
Chapter 26
Dorothy had invited Bruce in.
“Ah, Pamela, there you are. Would you get us some iced tea? It was hot outside and I promised this young man he could have some.”
Bruce was smiling at Pam. Then, as Dorothy gestured for him to take a seat on the wicker couch, his eyes alit on the framed photo of Dorothy’s old friend, Greta.
“That’s my mother,” he exclaimed. He reached down and picked up the frame, and stared at the old photo of the pretty young woman. “Why do you have her photo displayed?”
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