“Oh God, that's so awful,” she said as tears slid into the bandages from her eyes, and she could feel them burn, even though her eyes were covered. It just made it worse. She sat and cried for a long time while they held her, like three guardian angels taking care of her. But the sweetest angel of all was gone. Annie just couldn't understand it or absorb it any more than they could. It was the worst thing Annie had ever heard, and the same for her sisters, even after four days. None of them was feeling philosophical about it, although they tried to make their father think they were. “How's Dad doing?” Annie asked finally, worried about him too.
“Not good,” Candy volunteered, “but we're not so great either. I keep falling apart. Sabrina and Tammy took care of everything. They've been so great.” Candy filled her in. Annie had missed so much of what had happened. Everything in fact.
“Did I miss the funeral?” she asked, sounding shocked. She didn't really want to be there, but she felt mildly left out now, knowing that she hadn't. But there had been no other choice. They didn't know when she'd wake up, and they couldn't wait. It would have been too hard for their father, and even for them. They needed to get the agonizing formalities behind them, even without Annie.
“It was yesterday,” Sabrina said. Annie couldn't believe it. Their mother was dead. She couldn't get her mind around the words or the concept. It hadn't been easy for them either. They were still having trouble adjusting, and so would she. Their mother was just too strong a loving presence for them to be able to understand her sudden death, or even able to cope with the aftermath, which so far had been very well handled, by her sisters above all.
“Poor Dad … poor us … poor Mom,” Annie wailed in agony. “What a terrible thing to happen.” It was, even more than she knew. Now it was poor her, even more than their mom. She had lived her life, had died too young, but had lived fully and joyously till the end. It was Annie who was going to have such enormous challenges to meet now, whose suddenly limited life was going to be so hard, who would never again be able to see a painting, or create one, when all her life she had lived for art. It was Annie who had been cheated out of her sight and was still so young. Their hearts ached for her, as much as for their mother.
They stayed with Annie for a long time that afternoon. They didn't want to leave her alone after they had told her the news about their mom. Sometimes they talked about it, sometimes they just sat in silence and held hands, sometimes they cried together, or laughed through their tears at a story one of them remembered and the others had forgotten. As close as they had been before, losing their mother had created an even stronger bond. They were four very different young women with a powerful love for each other and deep respect, which had been a gift to them above all from their mother, but from their father as well. They clung to him and each other, as the remaining powerful symbols of their damaged world.
It was seven o'clock when they finally left the hospital. Annie was exhausted, and so were they. They drove back to the house, talking about her, and found Chris chatting quietly with their dad. He said that at least a dozen people had come by, to check on them and pay their respects. It was such a strange time for all of them. Their mother had left such a huge hole in their lives, and their community, where for years she had been so loved and admired, as a wife, mother, friend, human being, and hard worker at many charities. She had been so much more to so many than just their mother or Jim's wife.
Tammy suggested they order Chinese takeout or sushi so Chris didn't have to cook again, but their father said he had something he wanted to do with them first. He looked sorrowful and shaken, as he had since Saturday, but determined. He asked them to follow him into the dining room. Chris knew what was happening, and hung back, not wanting to intrude. This was between them, a private moment in their family. It had startled him when Jim had told him what he was doing, after they went to the bank that afternoon. It seemed soon to him, but the older man had pointed out that it would be months before all his daughters would be home again at the same time. And he knew that this was what his wife would have wanted. It was early, but it was time. She had been generous with her husband, daughters, and friends all her life.
As the girls followed their father into the dining room, they were shocked at what they saw there. They hadn't been prepared for this, and he hadn't warned them. Tammy gave a little gasp of pain and took a step back. Sabrina covered her eyes for a moment with her hand. And Candy just stood there and started to cry.
“Oh Dad …” was all Tammy could say. She didn't want to face this yet. It hurt just looking at the familiar pieces, but it was now one of her many gifts to them, with their father's grace.
He had laid out all of her jewelry on the dining room table, in neat rows, the familiar rings and bracelets and earrings she had worn, the string of pearls from her own mother, the gifts he had given her over the years, for important birthdays, Christmas, major events, like their births. With his success in business, the gifts had grown over the years. They weren't important jewels, like some of what Tammy had seen in Hollywood, or Candy wore in fashion layouts for Vogue, or ads for Tiffany or Cartier. But they were lovely pieces that her mother had worn and loved. Each piece on the dining room table would remind them of their mother each time they wore them, although it felt a little like stealing them from her, raiding her jewel box while she was out, and having to explain it to her when she got back. They all still wanted to believe that she was coming back. Laying her jewelry out as he had was a way of acknowledging that she was gone forever, and they had to step into the world as adults now, with nothing to buffer them from what life had in store for them, good or bad. Suddenly, no matter what age they were, they were adults. They no longer had a mom. It felt much too grown-up.
“Dad, are you sure?” Sabrina asked with wide eyes full of tears. Tammy was crying softly too. This was hard.
“Yes, I am. I didn't want to wait till Thanksgiving when you'll all be home again. Annie isn't here, but she can't pick the pieces now anyway, and you know what she likes. You can pick for her, or make exchanges later if you want. I want you to take turns, one by one. Each of you pick something, then the next one takes a turn, by order of age, one turn each, until you divide it all up. Mom wanted you to have it. There's some very pretty stuff there. It belongs to you,” he said quietly, and then walked out of the room, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He was leaving it up to them, knowing they'd be fair. In addition, he had taken out her four fur coats, two minks, a fox, and a beautiful lynx he had bought her the Christmas before. Each one was draped across a dining room chair. It was a lot to absorb.
“Wow,” Sabrina said, sitting down on a dining room chair, and staring at what was on the table. “Where do we start?”
“You heard Dad,” Tammy said somberly. “By order of age. That means you, then me, Annie, Candy. Who'll pick for Annie?”
“We all can. We know what she likes.” She wore very little jewelry, and had very eclectic arty tastes, mostly silver bangles and a lot of turquoise. Her mother had more serious pieces than that, but there were some that would look well on Annie, if she wanted to appear more grown up. And even if she never wore it, it was a memory of their mother, and nice to have. They each knew the piece she had gotten when they were born. A narrow sapphire bracelet for Sabrina, a ruby band ring for Tammy, a pearl necklace for Annie, and a beautiful diamond bracelet for Candy, who had come along thirteen years after Sabrina, in more prosperous times. As they stood at the dining room table, they chose those items first. And then began to loosen up. They put the first items on. The ruby band was exactly the right size for Tammy, and she swore she'd never take it off. She was exactly her mother's size.
One by one, they began to choose items that they remembered so well. There were a few pieces of their grandmother's, which were outdated but pretty. They had the look of the forties, some big topaz pieces, some aquamarines, and a beautiful cameo they chose for Annie, because she could feel it and they agreed that the face on the bro
och looked like her. It wouldn't have surprised their mother, or their father, that they were extremely respectful of each other. When one of them loved an item, the others immediately backed off and urged her to take it. There were a few pieces that looked like none of them, but they chose them out of sentiment. There was a handsome sapphire brooch their father had given her for her fiftieth birthday, which they all said Sabrina should have and she took. There were beautiful diamond earrings that looked great on Tammy, and some long diamond and pearl drop earrings she had worn when she was young, which were perfect for Candy, as well as a gorgeous diamond bangle that they all thought Annie should have, and set aside for her. They were lovely things, and halfway through they began to look less sad, and smiled and laughed with each other as they put them on, and commented on how they looked. It was bittersweet, both happy and sad.
They wound up with exactly the same number of pieces. Each of them had two or three fairly important items, and a number of others that were of less value but meant a lot to them, and they were satisfied with what they'd picked for Annie, and more than willing to make trades if she didn't like what they described. It was all a little more grown up than they were used to wearing, but they agreed that they'd grow into it over time, and even wear it now, to remind them of their mother. There was something very tender and moving about having her jewelry now. And when they had finished dividing it up, they tried on the furs. They worked out perfectly too.
They all agreed that the fox coat looked like Annie. It was almost the same color as her chestnut hair, it was full and long, it would undoubtedly fit her, and she could wear it with jeans. There was a black mink coat that looked gorgeous on Sabrina and fit her since the style was loose and her mother wore her fur coats a little on the long side. Sabrina looked very elegant in the coat. And the rich brown mink looked spectacular on Tammy, who said she would wear it to the Emmys next year. It was very chic. And the three-quarter lynx was pure Candy. She put it on and looked fabulous in it. She was so thin that it fit, and the length looked great with her long legs. The sleeves were a little short, but she said she liked it that way. Her mother had worn it only once, and all four of the coats were in great shape and seldom worn. She only wore them when they went to dinner in the city, or some major event. Their mother had had a penchant for fur, and had indulged it only in recent years. She had had a Persian lamb coat of her grandmother's from the thirties that she had worn when she was young, but it was long gone. These coats were almost brand-new, very stylish, and looked fabulous on them. They all set the coats down respectfully when they had chosen, and went back to the den to thank their dad.
He saw them walk into the room with smiling faces, and they each kissed him and told him how much it meant to them to have their mother's things. He had kept her wedding ring and engagement ring, which had a very small stone, and put them in a little box on his desk, where he could see them whenever he wanted. He couldn't have parted with them.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Candy said, sitting down next to him, and holding his hand.
They were well aware of how hard it must have been for him to lay her things out and give them away so soon, and what a loving gesture it had been. “You can go through her other things later and see if there's anything you want.” She had had some beautiful handbags, and some lovely clothes, which only Tammy could have worn since she was so small. But there was no rush for that. The jewelry had seemed important to him, as they needed to be together to do it, and he didn't want to wait five months, when they came back for Thanksgiving. It had shaken them to see her things at first, and to help themselves to them, but it had been done in an orderly, loving way. They had been as respectful to each other as they had been to their mother. It was typical of them, and what she had taught them as they grew up, to love each other, with kindness, generosity, and compassion. They had learned the lesson well.
Their father and Chris had ordered dinner while the sisters were looking at the jewelry. They had ordered curry from a nearby Indian restaurant, and it was very good. They chatted over dinner, and for a moment life almost seemed normal as they talked and laughed and teased each other. It was hard to believe they had just divided up their mother's jewelry, buried her that afternoon, and had a funeral for her yesterday. It was all so surreal.
As they cleaned up the kitchen, Tammy realized how much she was going to miss her sisters when she went back to L.A. Despite the sad occasion, she loved being with them. This was where she was happiest, in their midst. And whenever she was with her family, her life in California seemed so distant and without meaning. This was what mattered most to her. It was hard to compare the two worlds, and yet that was where she lived and worked, and what seemed so important when she was there, especially the show she had helped to create and which was so precious to her. But it was nothing compared to all this. She looked at her sisters as they left the kitchen, and Sabrina put an arm around her, and gave her a hug.
“We're going to miss you when you go back. I always do.”
“Me too,” Tammy said sadly. Her life there seemed so empty, without her sisters. Here they shared family meals, she could talk to them at any hour of the day, and their father looked over them benevolently. It reminded her of their childhood, which she thought had been perfect in every way, and so rare. And nothing had changed, except that they all lived all over the world. Or they had—now they'd all be living together, when Annie got out of the hospital, and she'd be living three thousand miles away. But there was no other way. She couldn't give up what she had there. It would have destroyed the career she had worked so hard to build. It was a tough choice for her to make.
The three dogs followed each other out of the kitchen, as the sisters went upstairs. It appeared to be a temporary truce of sorts, but Beulah and Juanita had become best friends in the past few days. Candy's Yorkie Zoe never left her side, or was always sitting on her lap. Juanita and Beulah had taken to sleeping together, and the chihuahua nipped playfully at Beulah's long silky ears. They had even chased a rabbit together in the backyard. They made everybody laugh. Zoe was the most elegant of the trio with a rhinestone collar and pink bows. Juanita was the fiercest, and Chris commented that Beulah hadn't looked depressed since they arrived. He said she needed siblings and clearly didn't like being an only child. Candy promised to send rhinestone collars for the others, which made Chris roll his eyes.
“She's a hunting dog, Candy, not a supermodel.”
“You need to give her a little style,” Candy said with a grin. “That's probably why she's been depressed.” Her old leather collar was faded and worn, and as they said it, the basset looked up and wagged her tail. “See, she knows what I mean. I have a fabulous woman who makes Zoe clothes in Paris. I'll measure Beulah before we leave and get her some stuff.”
“Now I'm getting depressed. You're corrupting our dog,” Chris said firmly. Beulah was the only thing that he and Sabrina officially shared. They had their own apartments, never commingled money, and were careful to keep things separate. As attorneys, they knew the mess it could make otherwise, if they ever broke up. But Beulah was the child they shared. Sabrina always laughed and said they'd need a joint custody agreement for her if they ever split up. Chris had a better idea and would have preferred getting married, if nothing else to protect the dog, he liked to tease her. But marriage just hadn't been in the cards for her so far, and wouldn't be for a while.
“Why not?” Tammy asked her the next day, as they were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. Everyone else had gone out. Their father and Chris were doing errands, and Candy was checking out a new gym nearby. She said she was falling apart not doing her Pilates for the last week, and she said she was gaining weight, which seemed like good news to all of them. She said her body was turning to mush, or it felt that way to her. Hard to believe at twenty-one.
“I don't know,” Sabrina said with a sigh. “I just can't see myself getting married. I hear such bad stories all day, about how people screw each other over, c
heat, used to love each other and messed it all up when they got married. It doesn't make it very appealing, no matter how nice a guy Chris is. They all are in the beginning, and then everything gets fucked up.”
“Look at Mom and Dad,” Tammy pointed out. They were her role models for the perfect marriage. She still wanted one of those, if she ever found a man like their dad. The ones she met in L.A., particularly in show business, were all crazy, players, narcissists, or generally bad guys. She seemed to meet them all. She said she was a magnet for nuts and shits, mostly nuts.
“Yeah, look at Mom and Dad,” Sabrina said, looking glum. “They were perfect together. How could we ever find something like that? It only happens once. Mom used to say that too. She always said how lucky they were. I'm not sure I'd have the same luck, and if I didn't, I'd feel cheated, I don't want anything less. They set the bar pretty high.”
“I think Chris comes pretty close. You found a good one. That's not easy to do. Besides, Mom and Dad worked at it. It didn't just happen. They used to fight when we were kids.”
“Not often. And usually about something we did, that they didn't agree on. Like when I sneaked out at night during the week. Dad thought she should say something and let it go at that. Mom put me on restriction for three weeks. She was a lot tougher than he was.”
“Maybe that's why they got along. But I can't remember them ever having serious fights. Maybe once, when he got drunk on New Year's Eve. I don't think she talked to him for a week.” They both laughed at the memory. Even with a little too much to drink, he had been cute. Their mother had said he embarrassed her with their friends. Neither of them had been a heavy drinker, and none of their daughters was, although they drank more than their parents had. Candy partied harder than the others, but she was still young, and moved in a faster crowd, because of her work. None of the others was out of control, and Candy was still within the norm. They knew Annie smoked dope with her artist friends, but she was so serious about her work, she didn't like getting stoned often. She had done more of it when she was in college, but none of them had substance abuse problems, and neither had their parents. They were a pretty wholesome group. Chris drank more than Sabrina did, and liked his vodka when he went out, but he didn't do it to excess. He seemed like the perfect man to Tammy, particularly compared to the freaks she met.
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