Hometown Ties Page 4

  “Oh?”

  “John was kind of married to his job too. He took me for granted. And he cheated on me.”

  “But Paul didn’t actually cheat on Abby.”

  “Not that we know.” Marley looked over toward Abby’s mother’s house, then lowered her voice. “And I’m not the only one who’s suspicious.”

  Janie followed Marley’s glance. “Doris thinks Paul was having an affair?”

  “Maybe not this time. But she has her doubts about his fidelity.”

  Janie just shook her head. “Poor Abby.”

  “You won’t say anything, will you?”

  “Of course not. I don’t know anything. Well, except that suspicion and innuendo can trick people. I like to stick to the facts.”

  “That’s very lawyerlike.”

  Janie made a face. “Although I am trying to shed the lawyer cloak.”

  “You mean you’ve decided not to practice law in Oregon?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Is there something else you want to pursue?” Marley broke a breadstick in half.

  “At the moment, I just want to get my parents’ house finished.”

  “You still call it your parents’ house?”

  Janie shrugged. “I guess I’m not ready to own it quite yet. Originally, I was only fixing it up to sell. But when I decided to leave New York, it was a handy place to land—better than the hotel. That got old fast. Although I’m still just kind of camping in the house. Not quite at home.”

  “Pretty nice camping if you ask me.” Marley had seen some of the rooms and, while the whole thing wasn’t completely done, it was all looking very nice and uptown. Especially by Clifden standards.

  “Thanks, but I think I’d trade it in a heartbeat for a place like this.” Janie leaned back and looked up. “The sea and the sky … does it get much better?”

  “You could buy a beach house if you wanted.” Marley forked her salad.

  “Maybe, if my Manhattan apartment sold. But I still have to pay Matthew’s tuition. Five more years until he gets his law degree. So I want to be careful.”

  Marley wanted to ask whether Janie’s recent reunion with Victor had anything to do with her hesitancy to make a move. Did Janie see herself marrying him someday, moving into his beach house? So far their relationship seemed to be only a friendship. But it was hard to tell. Already some were speculating about Marley and Jack. And while Jack was certainly a very nice guy, Marley didn’t see them as anything more than good friends, business acquaintances, and contemporaries in the field of art. Still … things could change … people could change … and none of them was getting any younger.

  As Marley cleaned up after their lunch, she became slightly obsessed with the whole idea of aging. She wasn’t even sure what brought it on, but she suspected that seeing Caroline’s mom like that—so old and fragile, kind of cut off and alone, and really vulnerable and helpless—well, it had rattled Marley more than she cared to admit. Yet she knew that aging was inevitable. Even the ones who fought it tooth and nail eventually grew old. Well, unless one died young, which brought no comfort.

  Really, Marley decided as she hung up the dish towel, she was not ready to get old or die. And she had no idea what she could do to get ready, or how long she even had to figure this all out. But it was unsettling.

  Chapter 4

  Abby

  “She’s exhausted, poor thing,” Abby whispered to Caroline as they tiptoed from Mrs. McCann’s bedroom. They’d done their best to attend to her feet before the old woman had fallen asleep.

  With the slightly worn yellow and white comforter hanging over an arm, Caroline closed her mother’s door and sighed. “She’s not the only one.”

  “You go in there and put your feet up,” Abby urged her.

  “In the living room?” Caroline made a face. “Did you look around in there much?”

  Abby just waved her hand as if the piles and messes were no big deal. But the truth was, Abby didn’t know if she’d ever seen such squalor. Not to mention the smell. She had no idea this was how Caroline was living. If Mrs. McCann had another caregiver and if Abby’s marriage were more stable, she would insist that Caroline come home and live with her. As it was, she couldn’t open her mouth.

  “Pretty bad, isn’t it?” Caroline tossed the comforter over the back of a sad-looking sofa and just shook her head. “I’m sure you’re shocked.”

  “I’ll admit I was a bit surprised.” Abby looked around the cluttered room. Boxes of God-only-knew-what were piled on top of one another along the wall by what had once been a fireplace but no longer looked functional. All the furnishings looked like they’d been there since the sixties, and they weren’t quality pieces, either. The Formica-topped end tables and coffee table were all piled high with old magazines, books, ashtrays, and other stuff. The walls had a dulled yellow look, probably from years of Mrs. McCann’s smoking, and the general feeling of the room was dark, dismal, and depressing.

  “I can tell by your face you’re stunned. You can’t believe I live in this kind of squalor.” Caroline was starting to cry.

  Abby hugged her. “I know it’s not your choice to live like this.” After moving some junk and the comforter from the sofa, Abby made her sit down. “You need to just chill a bit, girlfriend. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  “The clean glasses are in the highest cupboard right of the sink. Everything else is … well, you’ll see.”

  Abby went into the kitchen, which was actually a bit cleaner than the living room, although it was apparent that Caroline’s battle against clutter raged in here as well. She opened the cupboard right of the sink and instantly saw what Caroline meant. The highest shelf, which she could barely reach, had clean shelf paper and shiny new-looking glasses on it. The other, grimier shelves contained plastic glasses and stained cups and items that you wouldn’t expect to find even at a bad yard sale. Abby’s guess was that Mrs. McCann liked it that way. She turned on the faucet, but even the tap water looked dark and dingy.

  “There’s bottled water in the fridge,” Caroline called out, but not too loudly, like she was afraid to disturb her mother. “On the bottom in back.”

  Abby found the jug of chilled water, filled both glasses, and returned to Caroline, who was blowing her nose. Forcing what she wanted to be a hopeful smile, Abby handed Caroline a glass.

  “Sorry about falling apart like that,” Caroline told Abby. “I don’t like to be such a baby.”

  Abby moved some clothing and paper bags from an old swivel chair, then sat across from her. “I’d cry too if I had to live here,” she confessed.

  Caroline just nodded. “It’s horrible.”

  “And I’m guessing you try to change things, but your mother resists.”

  She nodded again. “She gets so upset if I move things. I had to secretly clean out my old bedroom just so I’d have a decent place to sleep. And I tried to clean up the bathroom, but it’s already looking just as bad as when I got here. It seems like the harder I try to make things nice, the harder she tries to ruin everything. I just don’t get it.”

  “I think it’s just that her mind works differently. It’s like her perceptions are skewed, like she’s all mixed up in her head.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “I’m no expert, but I’m guessing it’s going to go steadily downhill from here, Caroline.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Abby frowned. “Do you really think it can go any other direction?”

  Caroline brightened. “She has good days sometimes. Okay, days is an exaggeration. But she has moments of clarity … she knows who I am, and she really appreciates me, and she begs me to let her stay here, in her house. It’s all she wants, to live her last days under this roof.”

  Abby nodded. “
Yes. My mom says the same thing.”

  “But your mom has her wits about her.”

  Abby kind of laughed. “Depends on who you talk to about that. Paul sometimes wonders if she’s losing it.”

  “Paul should count his blessings! That man just doesn’t know how good he’s got it.”

  Abby nodded sadly.

  “I’m sorry,” Caroline said quickly. “I didn’t mean to suggest that—”

  “I know what you meant, and you’re right. But I’m part of the problem too.”

  Caroline took a sip of water, seemingly waiting for Abby to explain.

  “You see, at the counselor’s today….” Abby’s mouth twisted to one side. “I had to admit to some things.”

  “Well, there are always two sides.”

  “Yes, and to be fair, I’ve probably tried to make it seem there was only one person blowing it—and it wasn’t me.”

  “I don’t know.” Caroline held up a finger. “I’ve heard you defend Paul a number of times. I’ve even wondered if you let him get away with too much. Honestly, Abby, sometimes it seems like you let him walk all over you.” She clamped her hand over her mouth now, as if she hadn’t meant to say that. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just too tired to talk in a civilized way. I won’t blame you for walking out on me right now.”

  Abby just laughed. “Oh, I’m not that thin-skinned. And you’re right, I have let Paul walk on me at times. The counselor even said something like that today. But she used a fifty-dollar word. I think she said I was an enabler, that I do certain things that allow Paul to get away with bad behavior.”

  “So you’re supposed to force him to be good?”

  “I don’t think that’s quite what she meant. But I’m not supposed to put up with stuff.”

  Caroline nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “I guess so. I just hope it works.”

  “So how do you plan to carry it out?”

  “The counselor gave us homework,” Abby explained. “I’m not sure I can remember it offhand, but it’s in my notes. For starters, we’re supposed to list for each other five unmet needs we have, things our partner can do to improve our marriage.”

  “That sounds good.”

  Abby shrugged. “I don’t know. All I can think of is the same old stuff I’m always nagging him about. Like I want him to listen to me—really listen, you know?”

  Caroline nodded. “That doesn’t seem too much to expect.”

  “Maybe for you.” Abby narrowed her eyes. “You never seem to have any difficulty getting men to listen to you. Even Paul listens to you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Caroline took a big sip of water. “Just because a guy is looking attentively at you does not mean he’s listening. Not with his ears anyway. It’s usually a different part of anatomy that’s standing up and paying attention.”

  Abby laughed. “Yeah, you might be right. At least in your case. That doesn’t happen to me too much anymore.”

  “It would if you put some energy into it, Abby. You’re a pretty woman, but you don’t really try.”

  “I know, I know. I’ve let myself go. But the pounds just started coming on in my forties, and menopause hasn’t helped any either. Besides, I’m a grandma.” Abby held her arms out, looking down at her faded plaid blouse, baggy jeans, and old Earth Shoes. “Aren’t grandmas supposed to look like this?”

  Caroline shrugged one shoulder. “I guess. I mean, if that’s what you want to look like.”

  “I don’t know if I even care anymore.”

  Caroline leaned forward now, peering at Abby as if trying to see beyond her frumpy clothes and graying hair. “You don’t even care?” Disbelief was written all over her face. “How can you say that? Every woman cares about her appearance. Good grief, my crazy old mom even cares. I’ve seen her trying to primp in front of the bathroom mirror. Unfortunately, she’s clueless most of the time. But sometimes she gets it right and comes out wearing perfume on her wrists and lipstick on her mouth. And sometimes it’s just the opposite, and she really doesn’t care for the taste of Desert Flower.” Caroline puckered her lips in an imitation.

  Abby couldn’t help but laugh. “You could call her Sweet Lips.”

  “But my point is, most women, if not all, like to look nice, Abby. And I find it hard to believe you’re content to look like a grandma. Sure, we’re in our fifties, but these are the new fifties. Women our age are more like our mothers were in their thirties. And if the scientists are right, we could live to be more than a hundred years old, which means our adult lives aren’t close to half over yet.”

  “Is this supposed to be a pep talk?” Abby frowned. “Because I do not want to live to be a hundred. Sometimes I’m so tired now that I don’t care to make it to sixty.”

  Caroline got a concerned look. “Abby?”

  Abby held up her hands in a hopeless gesture. “Sorry, I’m just being honest. There are days I feel so tired that I don’t want to live to a ripe old age.”

  “But what about your daughters? Your granddaughter?”

  Abby considered this. “Okay, I’ll admit that I would miss them. Although I’m not so sure they’d miss me. Oh, maybe Lucy would. But she’d still have her other grandma. That lady is older than me but still fit and feisty.” She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “Whereas I’m just fat and flabby.”

  “Oh, Abby.” Caroline looked seriously disappointed in her.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”

  Caroline’s brow creased. “When was the last time you had a complete checkup, Abby?”

  “You mean a pap test and mama-gram? I go to the gynecologist about every year, give or take.”

  “No, I mean a complete workup with blood, cholesterol, thyroid … the works. When did you last do that?”

  Abby shrugged. “That would be with my general practitioner. Well, he’s about to retire, and he’s kind of old-fashioned about a lot of that stuff.”

  “That stuff?”

  “He doesn’t put much stock into all those tests. He says if you go looking for trouble you’ll find it. Besides, I only go to him when I’m sick.”

  “You need a new doctor.”

  Abby scowled. “Why?”

  “Because you could have something wrong and not even know it.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to know it.” Abby set her water glass on a tiny bare spot on a corner of the end table, then folded her arms in front of her.

  “Maybe you need to know it.”

  “Why?” She stared defiantly at Caroline. Even though Caroline’s day had been relatively stressful, she looked fairly well put together in her light blue T-shirt and khaki capri pants. Tall, shapely, healthy-looking in that California-girl way, blonde and blue-eyed and tan. Who wouldn’t like to look like that? Perennially young, Caroline’s good looks never seemed to fade. Consequently, in Abby’s opinion, Caroline made far too much over appearances.

  “I’ll tell you why right after I return from the little girls’ room.” Then Caroline stood up and flitted past Abby, almost as if she wanted to flaunt her good looks, although Abby was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. Caroline wasn’t really that type. Oh, she flirted with guys, but she also knew how to be a good friend. Abby was simply feeling a little out of sorts, perhaps even envious, and maybe Caroline had hit a nerve in regard to her looks. But if someone was going to chide Abby for letting herself go, did it have to be perfect Caroline?

  Of course, Abby knew that Caroline had endured a double mastectomy, although she claimed her implants were superior to her previous old girls. Also, thanks to a botched abortion in the eighties, Caroline had been unable to have children. Seriously, those were high prices to pay in exchange for beauty. Not that Caroline had consciously made those choices or that they were part of any specific transacti
on other than fate. But in a way, Caroline’s troubles were part of the package. Being childless probably preserved her figure, and the implants, well, that was obvious.

  Still, Abby knew that if Caroline had been able to choose, she would’ve gone a different route. And despite Abby’s present-day challenges (feeling tired and dowdy and consequently unsure of her marriage), she wouldn’t trade her life (specifically her three daughters or sweet little granddaughter) for Caroline’s unfading good looks or even for the face and body of, say, Jennifer Aniston.

  “Here is why I think you need a new doctor,” Caroline announced as she returned to the living room with a magazine in hand. “This is last month’s issue of O, and I think you need to read this article.” She folded the page of the periodical over as a marker, closed the magazine, and dropped it in Abby’s lap. “And take that quiz in the back. Then we’ll discuss whether you need to change doctors. Since I’m on the hunt for a good doctor myself—and I want it to be a woman—I’ll see if she’ll take you as a new patient too. Okay?”

  Abby blinked. “Okay.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, my motives are partially selfish.”

  “Selfish?”

  “I’d like you to be around for more than just a few years. In fact, I hope that you and me and Marley and Janie will grow old together. But if we’re going to grow old, we ought to do it in style. And that means staying healthy.”

  A sense of realization tapped on a tiny door inside Abby’s brain, like Caroline was almost making sense. “Maybe you’re right,” she conceded.

  “Of course I’m right.” She nodded toward her mom’s bedroom. “Look at my mom. Now I’m not saying that she had any control over getting Alzheimer’s. From what I’ve read, other than some genetic connections, it’s pretty random. But just the same, the woman never took care of herself. For as long as I can remember, she always put my dad’s needs above her own. And he treated her like trash most of the time. She ate poorly, drank way too much coffee, smoked for too many years. I mean, even if she hadn’t gotten Alzheimer’s, her quality of life had already been going downhill for ages. It’s like Dad never respected her, and she never respected herself either.”