One Week In December

by Holly Chamberlin

“Grandma?” Lily was saying. “You didn’t tell me about staying with Grandpa because you think I should stay with Cliff, did you?”

  And now Nora was horrified. She took Lily’s free hand and squeezed it. “Oh, Lily, no! I didn’t mean . . . Each relationship is different. Thomas and I—we were married, we had a family, we owned a house. We—”

  Lily squeezed back and smiled. “That’s okay, Grandma. I didn’t really think you were telling me to take Cliff back. I just wanted to be sure.”

  “Lily, I want to apologize.”

  “What for?” Lily asked. She clicked shut her phone and put it in the pocket of her woolly cardigan.

  “For telling you about your grandfather’s affair. I don’t know why it mattered, not to let the secret die with me. I became lonely in the silence, I suppose. I acted selfishly. I hope I haven’t bothered you unduly.”

  “No, Grandma,” Lily said, “you haven’t. I mean, I am confused but . . . But it’s okay. I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. Really.”

  Nora thought of pressing another apology on the girl, but then thought better of it. Like Lily had just said, she needed some time to think things through. “All right,” she said. “We’ll let it go at that. Well, I’ll be right back. Alex seems to like these cheese puffs of mine.” Nora went into the kitchen with the empty tray.

  Lily returned to the others in the living room. She took her seat next to Alex again and offered what even she knew was a wan smile.

  “It’s tough being in demand,” he said, with a reassuring smile. He would not mention the idiot ex-boyfriend. They would discuss a neutral topic, like telecommunications.

  Lily rolled her eyes. “Yeah. It really can be annoying. If you don’t pick up the phone or return an e-mail, you’re accused of being out of touch. What if I want to be out of touch? What if I want to be unreachable? What’s wrong with wanting to be alone sometimes?”

  “Nothing,” Alex agreed. “But good luck with trying to be alone in this world. Short of escaping into the wilderness and going entirely off grid, which I can’t see you enjoying, I think you’re stuck with the ever-increasing intrusiveness of technology.”

  “I know. I mean, if I was off grid I couldn’t check the Daily Mail UK celebrity gossip pages! I am so addicted to that site.”

  “Is British celebrity gossip any different than American celebrity gossip?” Alex asked, amused by the girl’s candor.

  Lily shrugged. “Mostly it’s the same. A total waste of time but fun, even if I don’t know the person they’re talking about. Or if I don’t understand the jargon.”

  Becca, until then silent, spoke. “If you care at all about your professional standing, it’s important to be entirely plugged in. I have no patience with people who can’t be tracked. It’s just stupid.”

  Alex cleared his throat; he hadn’t been aware that Becca was listening to his silly chat with Lily. Lily checked her wristwatch for no good reason. Becca, seemingly unaware of the discomfort her words had produced, took another long swallow of her drink.

  “Who wants more cheese puffs?” Nora had returned from the kitchen with a full tray. Before she had put the tray on the coffee table, Alex had snatched two of the savories.

  “I think it’s irresponsible not to carry at least a cell phone.” Becca uttered her latest statement just as Nora sank into her chair. “I keep telling Mom she should have one when she goes out on those long walks every morning with Hank. What if something happened to her? How could she call 9-1-1? It could be hours before anyone missed her, and by then she could be dead. Bear have been spotted around here, you know. And a frightened moose protecting her young could be deadly.”

  Nora tried not to smile. There was a glimpse of the old, dramatic Becca, imagining her mother mauled by a hungry bear or squashed under the hooves of an overprotective mother moose. “People lived for many years without cell phones, Becca,” she said. “And we got along quite nicely without them.”

  “That might be true, but now that they’re available, what possible good excuse can you have for not carrying one?” she argued. “Look, surgeons operated without anesthetic for years, but now a surgeon deciding to do a liver transplant without it would be called criminal.”

  Alex laughed. “I’m not sure we can equate anesthetic with cell phones, Becca. But I see your point. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should spend some time with Steve.”

  Becca watched as Alex joined her father across the room. Immediately, they were deep in conversation. Probably talking about some minute detail of photography. Or maybe they were talking about the Maine weather. Snow, snow, and more snow. Or local politics, if people in this uncivilized place even had a political system. Whatever the topic of their conversation, Becca thought that if Alex knew the real Steve Rowan, the manipulative man behind the friendly exterior, he wouldn’t be so chummy with him.

  Julie, Olivia, and James joined the circle around Nora. For the past few minutes, they’d been in the kitchen. Naomi, who had been talking with Steve, joined them as well.

  “You know, Olivia,” Julie said when she’d taken her seat, “I was thinking about your notion of giving this house an official name and—”

  “Mom!” Olivia shot a wide-eyed look in the direction of Alex and her father. Neither man seemed in the least interested in the others’ conversation. Alex was sketching on a paper cocktail napkin; Steve was watching closely.

  “What, dear?” Julie asked.

  “Not while there’s an outsider present!”

  Julie looked puzzled. “An outsider?”

  “What’s this about naming the house?” David asked. He’d just come from Nora’s room, where he’d been sent to retrieve a heavier sweater for his grandmother.

  Olivia scowled; when she spoke, it was in a tone far lower than her usual one.

  James stared down at his cup of eggnog. Becca thought he looked a bit embarrassed.

  “I think this house should have a proper name,” Olivia was saying. “It’s been in the family now for two generations and we know that one of us will inherit it when Dad and Mom die, so—”

  “Excuse me.” Julie laughed. “Your father and I are a very long way from dying and I’d prefer that nobody make assumptions about our estate. That’s a very private matter between your father and me.”

  Olivia wasn’t at all chastened. “All I’m saying is that the house is an important part of the Rowan family heritage and we should treat it with the respect it deserves.”

  David laughed. “For God’s sake, Liv, we’re not royalty! We’re not aristocracy. This is just an old farmhouse, not a grand estate built in the sixteenth century and full of priceless paintings and tapestries and antiques. We have no topiary maze. No butler and maid on staff. We don’t change clothes for dinner. And we certainly don’t ride to the hunt.”

  “We get your point, David,” Julie said, with a frown. Her son really could belabor a topic.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with Olivia’s idea.” Naomi shrugged. “We could choose a nice name and have a little sign made for beside the front door. Maybe Alex could help us make the sign. Or maybe I could paint one.”

  Becca shared David’s disdain; she thought the idea was ridiculous but wasn’t about to voice her alliance with her brother.

  “Grandma.” Olivia turned to Nora, who sat in her favorite armchair, one she’d had since the early days of her marriage. Nobody could remember exactly how many times it had been reupholstered. The current fabric pattern was one of dark pink cabbage roses. “What do you think?”

  “I think,” she said, “that the decision should be your mother’s and your father’s. After all, the house is theirs.”

  Julie smiled. “Well, I think it’s a fine idea and I was thinking that in keeping with the flower theme I began with the bedrooms, we might call the house Rose Cottage. Oh, I know this isn’t a cottage, but doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?”

  “I had,” Olivia said, “something a little more—sophisticated—in mind. Someth
ing like, for example, Kently Manor.”

  Becca couldn’t help it. She let out a laugh—and was disconcerted to hear her brother’s bark of laughter at the same time.

  Lily, who hadn’t spoken since her mother had introduced the topic, now said, “Don’t be mean, you two. If you don’t like the name, you don’t have to use it.”

  “It’s just that it sounds so pretentious.” David laughed again. “Manor? Come on!”

  The discussion came to an end when Alex appeared to offer his farewells. Olivia ignored him, but the others were gracious. Even Becca. Alex smiled to himself. He hoped she could hold her liquor. If not, she was going to have one major headache the next morning.

  23

  The Brandy Alexanders had softened Becca’s mood; maybe the cream had absorbed some of the alcohol (could it do that?) because she didn’t feel at all drunk, just—mellow. Even the site of Olivia leaning across the table toward their grandmother, armed with a notebook like a rabid journalist, didn’t bother her. Her sister was harmless. Strange, but harmless.

  “So you’re okay with the idea of my interviewing you on tape? I don’t want to make all the preparations if you’re going to change your mind, Grandma.”

  Nora seemed to be controlling a smile. “I told you, Liv, I have no inordinate fear of tape recorders or microphones. I may be old, but I am familiar with basic electronic recording devices.”

  “Good.” Olivia sat back, relieved. “I’ll take some preliminary notes this week and when I come back next month, we’ll sit down and start recording.”

  “You’re coming again next month?” Julie asked.

  “Why, is that a problem? I thought I’d take a week off to do some research and take an oral history from Grandma. James can handle the business on his own.”

  From the look of surprise on her brother-in-law’s face, Becca would have put money on the fact that he’d known nothing of his wife’s plan.

  Olivia, oblivious to her husband, was chattering on, pen poised. “For example, I’m hoping you can describe for me what it was like before your family had a dial phone. From what I’ve read, automatic telephone exchanges were phased in through the early 1950s, but until then, most people didn’t have dial phones.”

  “What’s a dial phone?” Michael asked. He was ignored.

  Nora laughed. “Well, on the topic of phones I’m going to have to disappoint you, Liv.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t remember anything about using an operator to place a call?”

  “Not really. It has been quite a few years.”

  “Try, Grandma,” Olivia urged. “Just think really hard. Did it feel like you had no privacy on the phone? How did you pay for calls? Did you get a bill in the mail?”

  “Olivia, dear.” Nora sounded exasperated. Becca couldn’t blame her. If she were the one being badgered, she’d have popped Olivia in the nose by now. “I just don’t remember! Really, one of the pleasures of growing old is that so much just escapes your memory. Life is a lot less complicated than it used to be and, trust me, that’s a relief.”

  “Grandma, how can you say that? Without our memories we’re nothing.”

  James dropped his knife. It clattered against his plate and he murmured an apology. Olivia didn’t seem to notice the interruption.

  “That may be so, Olivia,” Nora said, in what Becca thought was a placating tone of voice. “I’ll try to jog my memory and see what comes up, all right?”

  “Now that that’s settled,” Julie said brightly, “did I mention I got a call today from my friend Marion—you remember, the woman I met at that preservation society I belonged to back in Massachusetts?”

  There were a few murmurs on the order of “No, you didn’t” and “Sure, I remember.”

  “Well, she told me the funniest story about her grandson. It seems he’s always wanted to be a marine biologist. Well—”

  The mention of marine biology had jump-started Becca’s memory. Years ago, when she must have been only six or seven, her parents had taken the family to a marine show in Cape Cod. At least, she thought it was Cape Cod. Anyway, the memory was really about how excited David had been about getting to pet the tame dolphin. Right then he’d announced he was going to work for a cleaner natural environment so the dolphins could swim in a cleaner ocean. Impatiently, Becca waited for her mother to finish relating what seemed to her, who was only half listening, a remarkably boring tale.

  “You know what I just remembered?” she said the moment her mother had finished speaking. “I don’t know where it was exactly, but, David, you were there, Olivia, too, and Mom and Dad, and it must have been summer and we were all—”

  David was staring at his plate, his expression tight. Everyone else, it seemed, was staring at her.

  Becca flushed with embarrassment. What was she doing? How could she expect her family to share with her a happy memory when she’d set herself up as their enemy? She knew there was a good chance that if she pursued her decision to tell Rain the truth about her birth, she would alienate her parents and siblings forever. She thought she had known loneliness before now, but to be cut off from her family forever could be far, far worse than anything she’d experienced. Was it, she wondered, a risk worth taking?

  Whatever the answer to that question, how could she go on with her anecdote, given the current fraught situation, a situation she had created? The answer was that she couldn’t.

  “I—I’m sorry,” she said. “I suddenly can’t remember what I was going to say. I guess Grandma’s not the only one with a bad memory. Sorry.”

  Becca imagined a collective sigh of relief from her family. Someone changed the topic. They had to have because conversation was going on around her, though Becca was entirely unaware of the content.

  For the remainder of the meal, Becca was silent. To herself she vowed to avoid the Brandy Alexanders in the future. Alcohol only lured you into a false sense of security and well-being. It only made you weak. It made you vulnerable, not only to the designs of others but maybe worse, to your own demons. It made you vulnerable to the parts of yourself that tormented you. It made you defenseless against the facts of your life that haunted you.

  Facts like—like loneliness. And facts like guilt.

  24

  Nora caught Becca’s arm as she attempted to pass out of the dining room after dinner. Becca flinched at the touch.

  “We’re ready to have that conversation,” Nora said. “Everyone is gathering in the living room.”

  No, Becca thought. I can’t. She felt beat up by the individual encounters she had barely survived that day, and chastened by her own blunder at dinner. She simply couldn’t handle any more conflict. She needed time to recharge her energies. Plus, she felt a headache coming on. A big one.

  “Maybe not tonight, Grandma,” she said. “I’m exhausted. We can all talk in the morning.”

  “Everyone is exhausted, Becca,” Nora countered. “You can’t just drop a bomb on us and then ignore the damage. You’ve got every one of us scared of the next hit. We don’t know when it’s coming or how bad it’s going to be. You owe us that discussion we talked about last night.”

  A bomb? Well, she could out-cliché her grandmother. A string of expressions flooded Becca’s head. It was time to cowboy-up. Time to face the music. Time for the fat lady to sing. Well, maybe that last one wasn’t quite right. “I’m sorry, Grandma,” she said. “You’re right, of course.”

  She followed her grandmother into the living room, where the rest of the family—minus Rain and the boys, of course—were gathered. Becca took the only remaining seat, a straight-backed chair that usually lived in a corner. She moved it slightly so that she wouldn’t be directly facing her father.

  “Have you thought more about our—conversation—last night, Becca?” Julie said as soon as her daughter was settled.

  And about your badgering me today, Becca thought. And about David’s harassing me. “Yes,” she said. “I have.”

  David leaned forward,
his expression tight. “And?”

  “And I haven’t changed my mind.”

  Olivia huffed. “As if any of us expected better from her.” Becca thought that James looked more embarrassed by his wife’s comment than she, Becca, felt.

  David went on, as if his older sister hadn’t spoken. “You’re going to put a huge emotional burden on Rain if you tell her now, and in this—this ridiculous way. She might try to act like an adult, but she’s not, Becca. She’s still a child.”

  “I don’t see what’s so ridiculous—”

  But David cut her off. “We’ll leave right now if you persist with this nonsense,” he threatened. “I will pack up my family and we’ll be out of here within the hour.”

  “Like your leaving this house will stop me from talking to Rain?”

  “Now just stop this,” Julie snapped. “No one is leaving—don’t be silly, David. And Becca, calm down, please. You two sound just like you did when you were kids fighting over what show to watch on TV.”

  After a moment of silence heavy with tension, Naomi spoke.

  “Becca, what do you envision happening after—after you tell Rain that you gave birth to her?”

  “Don’t indulge her, Naomi,” David scolded.

  Nora shook her head. “No, David, it’s a good question. Becca, do you have an answer to it?”

  Becca felt her mouth go dry. The truth was—and how could she admit this, she who was the most organized person in her career and financial life!—the truth was that she hadn’t thought through every single detail of the matter. Not entirely.

  “Well,” she said finally, “I suppose I expect Rain to come to live with me in Boston.”

  “Of course.” The words burst from Olivia. “Because Boston is so much more sophisticated than Framingham!” Her seemingly pointless comment was ignored.

  “What if she doesn’t want to live with you in Boston?” David asked.

  Of course she would. Becca had to believe that her daughter would want to be with her real mother. She had to believe that. Before she could put words to her belief, Naomi pressed on.