“Sure.” She nodded then glanced at the clock.
Three minutes past nine. It was going to be a very long day.
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY I CAN’T BE IN MY OWN ROOM. IF YOU can roll me in here like a sack of potatoes—”
“Mother, we can’t carry you up the stairs safely. Even if we could, what if you needed to get back down again? What if there was a fire?” Emily struggled for a patient tone, but she felt like a prerecorded announcement. She had already gone through this with her mother a dozen times.
“Who cares if there’s a fire? Let the place burn to ashes.” Lillian gazed around the newly converted sewing room with a look of profound distaste. “I’m not comfortable down here, though I don’t suppose that matters to any of you.”
Jessica walked into the room with a vase of flowers. “Look, Mother, these just came for you. I don’t know who sent them. There’s a card though.”
Jessica handed down the card and Lillian opened it. She picked up her reading glasses, which were hanging from a chain around her neck. “Ezra. Who else?” She looked over the bouquet with a critical eye. “At least he told them to leave out the carnations. He knows they remind me of those cheap arrangements in funeral homes.”
“Ezra called again this morning and asked if he could visit you,” Emily said.
“When I’m up to it. I don’t think I want any visitors yet.” Lillian shifted in her wheelchair, reaching to place the card on a nearby table. Emily could tell from her expression that she was still in a lot of pain.
She also suspected that her mother didn’t want Ezra to see her until the angry bruise around her eye had healed. Which could take some time. It hadn’t looked nearly as bad right after the fall, but now that a few days had passed, Lillian looked as if she had been in a fistfight and emerged with a classic shiner. Emily knew how vain her mother was. It probably bothered her to no end, though she would never admit it.
“Where’s what’s-her-name?”
“Jeanette, Mother. The nurse’s name is Jeanette. She’s making your lunch.”
Lillian frowned. “Do I have to eat in this room?”
“Of course not. I’ll wheel you out to the dining room,” Jessica offered. She got behind the chair and released the brakes. “You’ve hardly seen the kids. Sam has the little ones in the living room. Darrell’s at school but he made you a card.”
“I’ll look at it later, thank you.” Lillian sighed heavily as Jessica rolled her into the dining room.
Emily pulled aside the heavy armchair at the head of the table, and Jessica steered Lillian into the spot.
Dan walked in, carrying Jane. Sam followed, bent over as he led two-year-old Tyler by the hand.
“Look at these men, toting around babies.” Lillian shook her head. “Were you exchanging tips about diaper rash in there?”
“As a matter of fact, we did have a good conversation about teething.” Dan turned to Jane and bounced her in his arms.
“I know it’s the modern thing, but I find this New Age father-hood awfully unnatural.”
“How are you, Lillian? Holding up all right?” Sam asked, knowing better than to take her bait.
“Not bad for an old lady with half her body covered in plaster. They should have done the other half and made a garden statue out of me.”
Sam glanced at Jessica. He couldn’t win.
Lillian’s new day nurse, Jeanette Kramer, carried Lillian’s lunch in on a tray. She set it down on the table. “There’s some soup and a sandwich for you. When you’re done, I’ll bring in dessert.”
Lillian peered at her soup. “What kind of soup is this?”
“Chicken noodle,” Jeanette said cheerfully.
“Oh, I never eat that. Take it away.” Lillian pushed the bowl aside.
Emily noticed the nurse’s surprised expression and felt sorry for her. Well, she needed to get to know her patient and decide if she would stick it out or not.
“But I found it in your cabinet,” Jeanette said. “There were several cans. I assumed you liked it.”
“There were several cans there because I don’t like it. Now please, get this vile stuff out of my sight.”
Jeanette picked up the bowl of soup. “Would you like some other kind of soup, Mrs. Warwick? Of course, if you do like it, you probably don’t have any in the cabinet. Is that how it works?” she asked innocently.
Emily had to hide a smile. Jeanette Kramer wasn’t the pushover she appeared to be.
“No soup today, thank you,” Lillian said in a tone of exaggerated politeness.
Jeanette disappeared back into the kitchen. Lillian picked up half of her sandwich with her good hand and took a small bite. She set the sandwich on the plate again and looked around at her family. “Are you all going to sit there and stare at me while I eat?”
“We’re keeping you company, Mother,” Jessica said.
“I feel like a creature in the zoo.”
Sam had lifted Tyler up to Jessica, and the boy now sat on her lap. As she turned to take a cup of coffee from Emily, Tyler began to smack the table in a quick, energetic rhythm, making the silverware and glasses shake.
“Tyler, stop that.” Jessica gently took his hands off the table.
Lillian sat back in her wheelchair, startled. “What in the world is he trying to do, knock down the house?”
Sam laughed. “I don’t think he’s big enough for that, Lillian. Give him a year or two.”
“He’s just playing, Mother.”
“Babies have no business at the table. I’ve told you that before. Bring him back when he can carry on a proper conversation.”
“Here, I’ll take him. Come on, Tyler.” Sam scooped up the little boy and carried him into the living room.
“Don’t let him touch a thing, do you hear me?” Lillian called after Sam.
“Sam knows how to watch him, Mother. Don’t worry.”
Lillian took another bite of her sandwich and tossed the rest back on her plate. “Dry as dust. I suppose she found the tuna in the cupboard and assumed it was my favorite.”
Dan glanced at Emily and rolled his eyes. Emily steeled herself, knowing that the next topic of conversation was not going to be any easier. “Mother, Sara is coming tonight to stay with you, as we planned.”
“I remember.” Lillian patted her mouth with the napkin. “It will be something to look forward to after spending the day with…” Lillian slanted her head sharply toward the kitchen. “Where did you ever find her?”
“Jeanette was very highly recommended. I hope you won’t make her miserable working here.”
“What me? Make her miserable? I have no rights in my own home anymore. Like those babies. Don’t mind me. Do as you please. Let those children run wild and break everything.”
“Calm down, Mother, nobody has broken anything,” Emily reminded her.
“Give them a minute or two, they just got in there,” Lillian pointed out.
Jessica rose. “I’ll go in with Sam and watch Tyler.” She looked pointedly at Emily. “Call if you need me.”
Lillian watched the look exchanged by her two daughters. “What’s up?” She peered at Emily. “Did the doctor tell you something you haven’t told me?”
Emily shook her head. “Nothing like that, Mother. You’re perfectly fine. Except for the broken bones, I mean.”
Emily glanced at Dan. Jane stood on his lap, pulling his hair. Dan sat stoically, like a big friendly bear, tolerating his daughter’s abuse. No help there. She turned back to her mother.
“I have some news for you. Some news about Sara…” She took a breath, not daring to look at her mother while she spoke. “She and Luke are married now, and—”
“They’re what? Did you say married?” Lillian pressed her hand over her heart. “How could that be? They can’t be married. Don’t tell me she threw herself away on him. When did this happen? Why wasn’t I informed?”
“They eloped over the weekend,” Dan explained. “Nobody knew about it. They
just told us last night.”
“I’m sure you’re surprised, Mother,” Emily said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. “We were, too.”
“Surprised? I’m appalled. How could you let this happen, Emily? Right under your nose. You had plenty of time to talk her out of that engagement. How could you have let her marry that ragged, lost soul? Some ex-policeman turned do-gooder. What kind of life will she have with him? No life at all, that’s what I say. She could have done much better than Luke what’s-his-name!”
“McAllister,” Emily reminded her. “Mother, I have no problem with Sara’s decision. I like Luke. I respect him and the work he’s done. Some people would say it took tremendous courage and dedication to leave the police force and start up New Horizons in this town.”
“Oh, poppycock! Some people don’t have to stand back and see their granddaughter married to him.”
Emily was momentarily taken aback. It was the first time she had ever heard Lillian acknowledge Sara as her granddaughter, but she didn’t want to make a big thing out of it and excite Lillian even more.
“Mother, please try to calm down. Luke has a good head on his shoulders and a good future.”
“Besides all that, they love each other.” Dan had Jane sitting on his lap again, playing with a cloth napkin.
“Love! What do they know about love? They’ve been swept away by hormones. Believe me, I know.”
Emily glanced at Dan, hiding her laughter. She couldn’t imagine her mother swept away by anything, even a hurricane.
“I see you laughing, Emily. Well, I was young once, too.” Lillian let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I need to go back to my room now. This has all been too much for me.”
Dan put Jane down and rose to help Lillian. He turned the wheelchair and steered Lillian back to her room. Emily followed, holding Jane by the hand as she toddled down the hallway.
Jeanette came out of the kitchen and followed the parade. When they arrived in Lillian’s room, Jeanette dropped the side of the wheelchair and maneuvered Lillian onto her bed. She took off her shoes and covered her with a blanket. Lillian waved her good hand at them and closed her eyes, clearly a signal that she wished they would all go away.
Emily realized that the situation with Sara hadn’t been resolved. Would Lillian allow Luke to come tonight with Sara? She hadn’t gotten a clear answer and realized she wasn’t going to get one. She would tell Sara that Lillian knew about the marriage—and Sara could come tonight with Luke at her own risk.
Newburyport, August 1955
THE WARWICKS WERE OVERWHELMING. EVERYONE SPOKE QUICKLY and out of turn. Lillian could barely keep up. Oliver seemed quiet and sedate in comparison. Which was saying a lot.
Lillian’s family was well off; her parents employed a housekeeper, a cook, and a maid. But the Warwick family employed a large staff of servants. The meal was served by two housemaids and a butler in a large dining room with a long banquet table. French doors on the far end opened to a beautiful view of the gardens behind the house and farther on, the sloping property and water.
Lillian had grown up in a fine home on Boston’s Beacon Hill, but Lilac Hall was in another class altogether. It was like a castle out of a picture book—or like one of the great houses she had once visited in England’s Lake District.
It was hard to imagine Oliver growing up amidst all this luxury. On one hand, he seemed the cliché of a spoiled, wealthy bachelor but on the other, he often seemed so natural and unpretentious that she could almost mistake him for a “regular guy.”
“So, you have family in Newburyport, Lillian?” Oliver’s mother, Alice, smiled across the table. Petite, with a youthful face and figure, she wasn’t what Lillian had expected. She looked nothing like Oliver, except for her dimples. She dressed well, Lillian thought, save for some pieces of jewelry—several large rings and a diamond and emerald pin—that Lillian found ostentatious.
“My father’s brother and his family live in Newburyport. On Camden Street.”
“Camden Street? Oh, yes, nice neighborhood.” Oliver’s father, Harrison Warwick, looked like an older, stockier version of Oliver, though bald on top and without the dimples.
“I met a fellow named Merchant once, down in Pittsburgh. Dealt in scrap metals. I was doing some business there during the war. No relation to you, I suppose?”
Pittsburgh? Scrap metals? Not very likely.
“Not that I know of,” Lillian said quietly. “My uncle is a banker. My father is, too,” she added.
“Banking. There’s a racket for you. Don’t tell me about bankers—”
“Harry, please,” Alice Warwick said. “Lillian doesn’t want to talk about the business world, do you, dear?” Alice nodded at her before she could answer. “Tell us about yourself, Lillian. Oliver said you work in a museum?”
“At the Museum of Fine Arts. I work with Egyptian art. I help plan exhibits and evaluate private collections, or I might be asked to study a piece and write about it.”
“How exciting,” Alice practically trilled.
It wasn’t really exciting work, Lillian thought. It was often very tedious and exacting, but she didn’t bother to correct Mrs. Warwick’s impression.
“She might be too smart for you, Oliver,” Harry said with a sly wink.
“I can keep up so far,” Oliver replied with a smile.
Despite the warm weather, the Warwicks had served a large lunch: cold cucumber soup, baked cod, potatoes au gratin, and steamed asparagus. Lillian couldn’t even eat half of it. The entire situation made her so nervous, she had lost her appetite.
“I love museums, I love the arts,” Alice said brightly. “We support the arts, don’t we, Harry?”
Oliver’s father nodded, like an obedient, old dog. “Yes, we do. Every chance Alice gets. I have the cancelled checks to prove it.”
“Oh, Harry. Don’t mind him.” Alice turned to Lillian again. “He’s really very cultured. He doesn’t like to show it though.”
He does an excellent job of hiding it, Lillian thought.
“Someday I would love to sponsor a festival of the arts for our town. Right here, at Lilac Hall,” Alice spoke excitedly, gesturing with her jewel-covered hands. “We could have dance and theater…and an exhibit of paintings, of course. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
“Yes, it would be. It’s a beautiful setting.” Lillian wondered if Alice Warwick was sincere or just a wealthy woman caught up in a momentary enthusiasm.
Or perhaps she’s trying to impress me, Lillian thought. Though she couldn’t imagine why that should be. If anything, it should be the other way around. Alice doted on Oliver. She probably thought that no woman was good enough for him.
The servants started clearing the plates.
“Just a moment,” Alice said to the maid who was removing the platter of potatoes from the sideboard. “Ollie, would you like some more potatoes, dear? I had the cook prepare them your favorite way.”
“No, thank you, Mother. I’ve had more than enough.”
“Oh, all right. You can clear everything, Mary.” Turning to Lillian, she added, “I have to keep after Oliver to eat right. He doesn’t take care of himself. He needs a good wife to watch over him.”
A good wife? Good heavens, does she mean me?
“When he came home from the army, he was skin and bones. It frightened me to death.”
Oliver laughed. “Mother, that was ten years ago. I’ve put on a few pounds since.”
“Yes, you’ve filled out nicely,” she agreed. “That was a hard time for us. At least one of my boys came home—” Her eyes suddenly became glassy with unshed tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
Harry pulled a snow-white hanky from his pocket and handed it to his wife. He reached over to pat her hand. “We know you miss him, dear. We all miss him. That’s the sacrifice we have to bear.”
Oliver turned to Lillian. “My older brother, Harry, Jr. He was in the army, too. He died in Italy.” He looked down a moment. “I didn’t
tell you that about Harry. I’m sorry…it’s hard for me to talk about.”
Lillian felt a shock of sadness. Oliver had told her his older brother had once pulled him out of the surf. But had never mentioned he’d died in the war. She saw him suddenly with his defenses down, and her heart went out to him and his family.
The maids served coffee from a silver service and small blueberry tarts on china dessert plates.
Alice composed herself. “These are fresh blueberries, gathered right here on the property. We have loads of blueberry bushes in the meadow. Oliver—and Harry—used to pick buckets full when they were little boys. They would come home with their hands and lips all stained purple, remember dear?”
“I remember, Mother. My manners have improved somewhat since,” he assured Lillian. “I rarely graze out in the meadow anymore. Only when I’m very hungry.”
Lillian had to laugh. “I hope not.”
She took a bit of the pastry. The berries were tart and sweet at the same time. She could easily picture a young Oliver roaming this huge estate in summertime, barefoot and daring.
Finally the meal came to an end, and Alice encouraged Oliver to take Lillian for a walk around the property. Oliver led her out through French doors that opened to a brick patio, shaded by a large vine-covered arbor.
A path led down to a rose garden, enclosed by high stone walls. Long rows of rose bushes in every variety and color were in full bloom, their scent perfuming the warm, humid air. A beautiful stone fountain stood in the center of the garden.
“My mother spends a lot of time out here. She’s a good gardener. Loves roses, but dahlias are her real passion,” Oliver confided. “She’s very competitive at the local flower show. You can hardly speak to her the week before. Do you like gardening, Lillian?”
“I like flowers. We don’t have much of a garden at home, though. I can’t say I ever tried.”
“My mother will teach you. She’ll be happy to,” he added.
Lillian fixed him with a skeptical look. She wasn’t sure when these horticulture lessons where going to take place but thought it best to let the comment pass for now.
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