“You wait. They’ll come at us with a terrible diagnosis.”
“His sugar was elevated. He may have crossed over from prediabetic to diabetic.”
“Or it’scancer,” Mrs. Bennet whispered theCword and looked at Mary. “Better to expect the worst and work back.”
“Why?” Mary sat down next to her mother. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Because you can walk forward from bleak, but you can’t walk back from high expectations.”
“Ma, that’s ridiculous.”
“I don’t expect you to take anything I say seriously. You girls look at me like I’m Nathan Lane inThe Birdcageor Aunt Pittypat inGone with the Wind. I see your faces. You think I’m a hanky-waving wing nut. Emotionally unhinged.”
“Not true. I take most of what you say to heart—but this time, I just know you’re wrong.”
“I’m never right in your eyes.”
“That’s not true.” Mary was tired of arguing with her mother. “Are you afraid?”
Mrs. Bennet put the coffee cup down. She fished inside her blouse and pulled a handkerchief out from her bra strap, then dabbed her eyes. “I’m terrified. I’ve been married to your father for half of my life. More, maybe. I think it’s more. I was never good at math. Anyway, this is where it’s all heading. Down the drain. All that time expended and nothing to show for it.”
“You have five daughters,” Mary reminded her.
“Who have left me for parts unknown.”
“I left you for parts upstairs,” Mary countered.
“You know what I mean,” Mrs. Bennet snapped.
“Come on, Mama. You know where your daughters are. They’re not far.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t complain. At least my Mary found it in her heart to stay.”
Mary sighed. When her mother spoke about her in the third person in her presence, Mary knew she was cooked. She had no defense. Mary had stayed on Jane Street to care for her parents because she was needed, which in her mind was always the best reason to serve. Second, HB Studios was close. Third, if Mary were offered the option to live anywhere of her choosing in the world, she would pick Greenwich Village every time. How could she explain how much Jane Street meant to her? The winding lanes from another century, with the lights in the high-rises twinkling in the distance? The Hudson River, mighty and gray, with foam caps? The Statue of Liberty, with her blue-green gown, holding a gold torch, that cut a beam in the night sky and couldbe seen for miles? The wide expanse of the mouth of the Hudson, where it meets the Atlantic Ocean, where any explorer worth their salt had sailed through to find their idea of heaven? Mary could go on and on about how much she loved New York City, but no one understood, not even her father and mother, who had lived in the city all of their married life.
“My Lizzie!” Mrs. Bennet shouted as her second-eldest daughter entered the room.
Lizzie Darcy wore cuffed jeans and a barn jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink, which brought out the blue in her eyes. “I came as soon as I could,” she apologized.
“I can’t believe you got here this fast,” Mary said.
“My angel!” Mrs. Bennet extended her arms like a three-year-old child who hoped to be lifted and twirled around the room.
Lizzie embraced her mother and sat down next to her. “Are you all right, Mama?”
“I’ll never be the same again.”
Lizzie looked at Mary.
“Dad will be okay. They ruled out his heart. And he didn’t have a stroke.”
“Thank goodness,” Lizzie said. “We should be grateful.”
“They have him doing tests right now. Could be diabetes,” Mary fretted. She knew if her father needed medication, she would be the one to administer it; her mother was incapable.
“He can live with that,” Lizzie said.
“Your father refuses to follow instructions and take the most basic of medications. I’d like to know how he could ever control his sugar.” Mrs. Bennet sighed.
