“I’ll tell them,” she said. “I’ll have them come back, when it’s time. When I’m closer. I will…say goodbye to my children.”
I wanted to ask when she thought that would be, but how do you ask that?
I took a drink of water, waiting for her to say more, but she didn’t. She finally stopped looking at the photos, pushed the laptop away and took a drink of tea. She held the mug in her hands after she drank, elbows resting on the table, and stared out the window to the grounds of the estate.
We sat in silence, though not awkward silence, until I saw Stick coming back into view, presumably from the direction of the garage area.
As he entered, I stood up. “Well, we should probably get back. I’ve got some studying to get to.”
She looked up at me from her seat, blinking several times, as if she was putting me in focus, trying to place me.
Had the disease settled in her brain?
“And how are you finding Bribury, Jane? Are you enjoying your freshman year?”
Okay, so she was still lucid.
“I am. Very much. I get along great with my roommates. I’m liking my classes for the most part.”
She smiled, but it was a practiced smile and didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s nice. Bribury is a good school. You’ll enjoy your time there. What are you majoring in?”
My pat answer for that was usually “partying,” but I held it in check. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m just getting in all the basics this year.”
She nodded, looking away from me, back to the window. “That’s a good idea. No need to commit to something right away.” She looked back to me. “You’ll find what speaks to you.”
Would I? I wasn’t quite as sure, but I knew I wasn’t the only freshman in the world who didn’t know what they wanted to be when they grew up.
Hell, I wasn’t even the only freshman in my dorm suite who didn’t know.
Stick poked his head in the fridge. “Can I make you something before we go?” he said. “How about an omelet?”
“I’m not hungry, Stick, thank you.”
He shut the fridge door and gave her a stern look that I was willing to bet very few people gave to Caroline Stratton.
“When was the last time you ate, Caro?”
“Dotty made the most delicious crab salad for lunch.”
“But did you eat any?” he asked with the suspicion of a parent wheedling the truth out of toddler.
She looked away from him, just as a guilty toddler might, and shrugged. “A little bit.”
“Where is Dotty, anyway?”
“Grocery shopping.”
“How about a quick omelet? We’ve got time.” He looked at me questioningly.
“Sure. We can stay,” I said, and made my way over to Stick at the counter. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I figured I could help with an omelet.
“Really, Stick, I can’t eat anything right now. And Dotty will be home soon with enough food to feed an army. She’ll make something mouthwatering for dinner, and I promise I’ll eat.”
He studied her, then finally gave one short nod. She exhaled, like she’d just been given a death-row reprieve.
“Are your omeletsthatbad?” I teased him under my breath.
He rolled his eyes at me, but moved away from the counter, toward Caroline. “Is there anything I can do before we leave?”
