A Daughter's a Daughter

by Irene Vartanoff

Bruce’s offer bespoke his acknowledgment he had crossed an ethical line yesterday. It was a generous promise, considering how desperately he seemed to want to know details from the past.

  She nodded. “I’ll hold you to it. I’m bringing my grandchildren here next weekend. Probably we’ll all be too busy for any more stories about the past.”

  Bruce looked disappointed, even taken aback. “Grandchildren?”

  “Max and Molly. They’re eight and six, and quite charming,” she smiled. “You don’t have grandchildren yet?”

  “No. I’ve got the gay daughter, remember?” he said. “Sometimes it takes longer to find a mate.”

  “Right. Sorry.” After her awkward gaffe, she turned to place her purse on the car seat. “Time for me to go.”

  “Drive carefully, Pam. I’ll miss you.” Bruce said.

  What could she say? Would she miss him? She had no idea. She settled for a bland comment. “I’ll be back Friday afternoon.”

  She got behind the wheel quickly and started the car. Bruce stood there and watched her leave. What a mess. She had been impetuous, getting involved with Bruce too quickly and too intimately. A mistake when she knew nothing about him. Now she had reason to doubt everything he’d ever said to her.

  Bruce’s secret agenda still hit Pam on the raw. How could he have abused her trust that way? Why had she been so easy to fool? She’d trained herself to notice when a high-powered executive was telling her lies, but she still couldn’t recognize when a man she’d had sex with was pulling the wool over her eyes. Bruce had been so plausible, so casual and friendly. Pam had been an easy target. It hurt to think she’d been used.

  Even if Bruce had been honest and open about everything, was she at the right place in her life for a love affair? She had too much on her plate, starting the nonprofit and now dealing with whatever was up with her mother.

  Chapter 30

  Five days later, Pam was more than ready for a weekend. A week with her over-scheduled grandchildren was fun in theory, but hard work in reality. She’d forgotten how children felt it was necessary to negotiate every moment of the day.

  “I don’t want milk. I want soda,” Max whined on Friday afternoon at snack time.

  “Honey, there’s not a drop of soda in this house,” she replied.

  “You cut my sandwiches funny. Mommy always cuts them different,” Molly said. She looked to be revving up to reject her sandwich.

  “I’m grandma. I do everything a little differently,” she said with a smile. Trying to soothe the children was getting tougher. They had held up well, but with the school week over, they both were ragged from the pain of being separated from their parents.

  “Hurry up and finish your snacks. It’s time to go to the beach, to Great-grandma’s house.”

  “Does she have a dog?” Max asked hopefully. He’d asked for a dog forever, but Callie thought they brought in germs. There were no pets in this excessively clean house.

  “The dog next door comes over to visit every day,” Pam said.

  “Oh, boy!”

  Of course, now Molly wanted something for herself. “Does she have a kitty cat?”

  “No, I’m afraid not, dear. Maybe we can find one when we walk on the beach.”

  Molly looked a little disappointed, but not too much. Max’s open enthusiasm was beginning to infect her.

  “Are we going swimming?” Max’s eyes were wider than she’d seen them all week.

  “It’s too cold for swimming, but we can play in the water and build sand castles and look for shells.”

  “Yay! Let’s go visit. Can we go right now?”

  “As soon as you finish up and brush your teeth. Each of you pick a toy or game you’d like to bring with you.”

  She’d already packed their clothes. While the children ran off to their rooms, she made an extra effort to clean the kitchen. Although she suspected Callie would take one look on her return and gasp in horror. That girl could intuit dirt.

  On the long drive out to the beach, Pam announced it was necessary to take a break at an ice cream shop. The children whooped. They grew even more enthusiastic once they realized she was not going to tell them which flavors they must order, or even which sizes. She asked for an empty container from the store, planning ahead to a few minutes later in the car, when Molly inevitably said, “I’m all full, Grandma. I can’t finish my cone.”

  Luckily, Max wasn’t into teasing his little sister at that moment. The container was passed back to her granddaughter without any negative comments, and the half-finished cone was deposited inside.

  “How about you, Max? Had enough?”

  “Yes. I finished mine. Mom doesn’t let us have cones before dinner,” he said.

  “Dinner could be awhile. We have to wait until Great-grandma decides what she wants, and then order it from a restaurant.”

  “Doesn’t Great-grandma cook?” he asked, wonder in his tone. Callie usually cooked all her family’s meals.

  “Not if she can help it,” she smiled, taking the turnoff from the expressway. “It’s a privilege of age.”

  “What’s a privilege mean, Nana?” Molly asked.

  She had forgotten how many questions children always had.

  “It means that my mom is retired. Do you know what retired is?”

  “I know, I know,” Max yelled. “Retired is when you’re old, like thirty, and you have to live on cat food.” He said it triumphantly.

  “Oh, dear. Maybe some retirees do. My mother lives on nice restaurant takeout,” she finished up, chuckling. Cat food indeed.

  Fielding the children’s questions made the trip go by faster. Steve’s home was a long drive from her mother’s beach house, but they arrived before they all got too worn out. As soon as she’d turned off the engine, Max and Molly undid their seatbelts eagerly and ran for the house. “Great-grandma! Granny!” they cried, “We’re here.”

  She followed at a more sedate pace, bringing some of the luggage. She set it inside the door and went to check on her mother.

  Dorothy sat in her favorite seat in the sunroom. She had an arm around each child as they stood on either side of her. She listened intently to the tale of their recent doings.

  They seemed quite happy to be chatting with their great-grandmother. How surprising they felt comfortable with Dorothy, considering how seldom they saw her. Or maybe that was why?

  After a few minutes, when the children had started to run down, they heard a dog bark. Bruce was coming across the patio, with Yappie by his side. The children ran outside.

  “Doggie!” Molly said, wide-eyed. Max was a little shyer. He looked to Pam, who had followed, for direction.

  “Yes, this is the friendly dog I told you about. Ask Mr. Wicklow if you may pet him.”

  Bruce smiled at the children, who were looking extremely eager, but a little scared. “Yappie loves everybody. Go ahead.”

  Max put a tentative hand on Yappie’s head. Yappie immediately licked Max’s hand, shocking the boy. Mollie started giggling and held out her hand to the little dog.

  “Now me! Now me!”

  Dorothy came outside, greeted Bruce, and ensconced herself at the patio table, smiling benignly at the children as they played with Yappie.

  “How have you been all week, Pam?” Bruce asked. “I’ve been wearing Dorothy out with our daily walks, but otherwise I’ve had my nose to the grindstone.”

  His way of telling her he had kept his promise. In her absence, he hadn’t tried to coax Dorothy into more talk of his parents’ deaths. Evidently he planned to ignore the rift between them. She wasn’t ready to forget, but with the children here, she could hardly be openly hostile. Of course he was taking advantage of the children’s presence, of Max’s eagerness to pet the dog, and of Molly’s to do whatever her big brother did. It was understandable. They brought joyful noise wherever they went. Bruce lived here all alone except for Yappie.

  “We’ve been busy,” she replied. Then she couldn’t help adding, “I’m glad y
ou had a productive week.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say I got any writing done. I was too distracted to write much. I did try,” he said, acknowledging he’d had other things on his mind.

  Belatedly, she introduced the children, who displayed the good manners Callie had drilled into them. Max even held out his hand to shake.

  Dorothy spoke up. “Now don’t you wear that dog out with too much petting.” Then she turned to Pam.

  “We’d better order dinner. You should take these children for a walk before it gets too dark. Otherwise they’ll never settle down.”

  Somehow, Bruce was in the picture again as the adults realized the children weren’t going to want to be separated from their new animal friend quickly. Dorothy invited Bruce to dinner and he accepted.

  “You’re a brave man,” Pam said, not fighting it.

  Bruce smiled at her. “How could I leave you all alone with these wild things?” he teased.

  She slipped back inside and retrieved the handful of takeout menus from the kitchen.

  “What’s your pleasure, Mom?” she asked Dorothy.

  “How about Italian? Usually, children like spaghetti.”

  They put in the order, and Dorothy insisted on waiting in the house for the delivery. “You all go on for a walk. I’ve had mine.”

  Bruce, Pam, and the children and Yappie set out for the beach.

  “I’m sorry you got roped into this,” she said to Bruce as they walked along. Yappie ran to and from the water, almost touching the incoming tide. The children whooped and tried to keep up with his zigzag path.

  “I’m enjoying it,” he said.

  “So am I, but I’ll be glad when my grandma week is over. The children wear me out, and I do have other concerns besides babysitting.”

  “Have you found a new job?”

  “Not employment. I’ve started my nonprofit, and I’m in the process of publicizing it and finding big donors.”

  “You talked about it before. I didn’t know you’d gone through with your idea.”

  #

  Bruce hadn’t realized Pam had anything else major going on in her life. This might explain why she wasn’t interested in listening to him about Dorothy’s memory problem.

  He asked questions and was further intrigued by how complicated Pam’s plans were. She’d ventured far out on a limb, far from the safety of being a clerical worker at an investment bank or a stay-at-home mom. It made him wonder if he’d gotten the wrong idea about her all along. He’d thought she was the housewife type, someone who would be content with a quiet life and make no waves in it. Maybe that wasn’t true. She sounded eager. It clearly was the most important thing on her mind. Something he should consider.

  Meanwhile, Pam blithely continued to describe her efforts to corral big shots from the world of finance as major donors and publicity bases for her charity. He wondered if she knew how animated her face, indeed her entire posture was when she described her foundation. She looked beautiful.

  The kids of course kept asking questions and running to and fro. There wasn’t an opportunity for deep conversation.

  The walk took longer than expected. It was hard to turn the excited children back toward Dorothy’s house soon enough. Naturally, by the time they neared it again, even Max’s legs were tired, and Bruce was carrying Molly.

  “Well, at last,” Dorothy said, greeting them from the sunroom’s French doors. “I was wondering if I should eat alone.”

  “I think we overdid it,” Pam admitted to her mother as the weary band trooped in, leaving Yappie outside. Bruce explained the dog was guarding them.

  “It’s getting a little cool to be dining outside, I’m afraid,” Bruce said.

  “We’ll use the dining room,” Dorothy said with her usual air of certainty.

  They looked across at the room, with its table still piled with newspapers and magazines. Bruce put Molly in a wicker chair and Max flopped down beside her.

  “Okay,” Bruce said easily. “We can clean this up in a jiffy.”

  Pam waited for Dorothy to tell Bruce not to touch anything. It didn’t happen. Dorothy merely nodded her assent. Seeing that, Pam sprang into action.

  “There’s string in the kitchen drawer to tie the papers. I’ll get it.” She practically raced into the kitchen to gather up the twine and some scissors, eager to openly declutter the dining room at last.

  She and Bruce made short work of stacking and tying up the newspapers. Then he took the heavy bundles out to the trash area where the recycle bin resided. The newspapers were all from the past three months. She had intended to do something about them soon. She’d even gone online this week and investigated the local recycling collection service. It was a relief to get the job done without her mother being angry at her.

  Within a few minutes, they had the whole table cleared. She’d tied up many magazines, only saving a handful in case they could prove useful for entertaining Max and Molly.

  Who by now had recovered from their walk and were ready to help. Finding Max at her elbow, she asked him to put the few remaining magazines in the living room. As he did, she turned to his sister.

  “Molly, if I show you the silverware drawer, can you set the table?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “No, she can’t. She’s too little and gets confused,” Max said.

  “Then you be a good big brother and help your sister,” Dorothy directed as Pam opened the top drawer of the server to reveal the flatware.

  Bruce was finally done with taking out the recycling. Dorothy had pulled out a tablecloth and the pads she’d had custom made to protect the table. She and Pam laid them and the tablecloth. Then Max and Molly raced around the table, putting silverware at places while Bruce retrieved the cartons of Italian food from the kitchen. Pam procured china plates and serving dishes from the breakfront.

  Dorothy looked around the table, now set with china and silver, napkins, and even a centerpiece of a few fruits Pam had put in a basket. “This is very nice. It’s a shame Malcolm can’t be with us, but he has to work late.”

  Pam let that hang in the air. Her father had died nearly forty years ago. Bruce looked puzzled, then comprehending. The children ignored their great-grandmother’s odd statement.

  They spent a happy half hour eating and enjoying the children. Then Max and Molly were excused to play with the toys they’d brought in their backpacks. Callie, of course, did not allow them to play video games.

  “Nice kids,” Bruce said after they had done as they were told and gone to the living room to play.

  “My daughter-in-law, Callie, is a stickler for good manners and rules.”

  “So is your mother,” Dorothy pronounced.

  They lingered over the meal a while longer, but then Bruce demonstrated his recall of being a father by excusing himself. “I’ll say thank you and goodnight. They’re going to crash soon. You’ll want to get them bathed and into bed.”

  She glanced over in time to see Molly rubbing her eyes. “True,” she smiled.

  He said his goodnights and left. The children were so tired they didn’t even try to keep Yappie. Dorothy insisted everybody help get the food cleared off the table. Then she put herself in charge of refrigerating the leftovers and sent Pam and the children upstairs.

  “Time to pick out your bedrooms and get bathed.”

  “All right, let’s go,” Pam said, leading them into the hall. “Each of you take your backpack with you,” she directed. She shepherded them up the stairs. Molly was dragging her feet, looking tired. As expected, Max wanted the biggest room, the one her brothers always took. It had two beds and old sports memorabilia. The next bedroom was frillier, created to please her elder sister, Christine. Not that anything ever had. It made little Molly smile. Then Pam showed both children her bedroom, to reassure them she would be nearby.

  Soon each child had gotten the surface dirt cleaned off and was outfitted in pajamas. They all trooped downstairs one more time for a last drink of water and to kiss
Dorothy goodnight.

  “You little rascals,” she said, pleased at the attention. She hugged and kissed each child in turn.

  Pam tucked the children in bed. Max was a bit old for a story so she left him with a book and the promise she’d check on him in case he couldn’t sleep. Then she read a picture book to Molly, who was asleep before it ended.

  Pam soon descended to the main floor to reconnoiter with her mother and be sure the leftovers had made it into the refrigerator. It was as well she checked. Dorothy had put the food in the freezer, not the fridge. Easy to remedy, but why had she done that? Not that it mattered terribly.

  Pam went out the kitchen door to get her luggage from the car. Light poured from a side window of Bruce’s house. It shone from his living room, which faced the water. Did she wish she was with him right now? Or upstairs, in his bed with him again? She wasn’t sure. Too many people had told her she should get on with her life. She should find another man, they said. When she had found him, she had plunged into a physical affair too quickly. She’d been so flummoxed by her attraction to Bruce she’d taken him at face value. She hadn’t dreamed he could be lying to them all about who and what he was.

  He’d claimed he never lied, merely omitted some key bits of information, but his long-ago connection with Dorothy had changed everything. Dorothy didn’t seem to hold it against Bruce for coming here with the hidden agenda of coaxing her to tell old secrets. She’d only gotten her dander up when Bruce questioned the details of her story. Was that because she hated to be doubted, or because she was prevaricating about her confrontation with Roger Dietrich so many years ago?

  They ought to learn more about Bruce from someone reliable. Doubtless her mother’s attorney could recommend a good private eye. Investigating Bruce was a melodramatic step, but Dorothy was at a fragile time of life. Pam didn’t want any more surprises. She must make sure he wasn’t likely to take further advantage of her mother. If she’d had a moment to herself in the past week, she would have already set a background check in motion. There were only so many hours in a day, and her grandchildren seemed to fill them all.