“Don’t tell your mom about the gulls and the crackers,” she advises Evangeline.
In the kitchen, the kids eat the sandwiches Jordan makes for them. Well,eatis a generous term for Caspian, but he makes a nice design with the pieces and consumes some of them. She puts Caspian down early for his nap, but luckily nobody notices.
When Caspian is sleeping and Evangeline is readingIvy + Beanout loud to her and Scarlett, all Jordan wants to do is lie down herself.Aunting is exhausting! How does Natalie do this all day every single day? How does she make it all look sopretty?
“If this is what the summer-home storage room looks like I can only imagine what’s in the attic in Lenox,” says Jordan, after Calvin and Natalie have arrived home, and Calvin, spiffy in his new glasses, has gone inside to check on the to-do list.
“Ugh,” says Natalie, coming to stand beside Jordan. Then she says, “Silver lining. The Lenox attic is not going to be our job. It’s going to be Kara’s.”
“Natalie! What a morbid thing to say.”
“What? It’s true.” There’s a pause, then Natalie says, “Do you ever feel bad that we didn’t go to the wedding?”
Jordan stares at her. “Are you insane? No, never.”
“Yeah, me either.”
“This is a terrible system,” Jordan says, looking at the storeroom, which runs along the back of the garage. “You literally have to take out everything to get to the stuff on the far side. This thing should have a door in the middle. We’ll get a dumpster and just put everything in it. I’ll call today, have one here on Friday.”
Natalie looks horrified. “We can’t do that! With Mom’s stuff!”
“Why not?”
“It’s bad enough you’re okay letting the house go! What if treasures abound?”
“I don’t want any treasures. I live in an apartment. Doyouwant treasures?”
“Maybe,” says Natalie. “Depends what they are. I want to see everything, everything that has to do with Mom.”
Jordan sighs. But she knows she’s already the odd man out among her sisters since she sees the logic of the sale in a way that they do not.(Obviously, she’s right.) And her mental space is heavily occupied; she can’t turn everything into an argument. “Okay, then. If we’re not dumping it all, we’re going to need three piles. Keep, which means one of us or Dad has to take it. Donate; I’ll find a place where we can bring everything on Saturday. And trash.” Natalie nods. There is some discussion over whether or not they need handwritten signs to keep the sections straight, then Jordan decides they will be fine without signs:trashto the far right,keepin the middle,donateto the left.
“I’m going in,” says Jordan. She straightens her shoulders, tips her chin up, and enters the storeroom, emerging with an electric roasting pan. “Item number one,” she says formally. “Do you want this?”
Natalie glances at it. “I have one.”
“You have an electric roasting pan?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“I cook dinner for five people six nights a week. I have an extremely well-equipped kitchen.”
“And on the seventh night you rest?” Jordan puts the roasting pan in the donate pile. It looks serviceable.
“Sort of.” Natalie pulls a hair elastic off her wrist and uses it to put her hair in a high ponytail. She pulls a lip gloss out of the pocket of her shorts and applies it. “Every Saturday night Austin and I get a babysitter and have a date night in Bennington.” Natalie sounds like she’s auditioning for a role onFather Knows Best, which is a show Jordan has heard of only because she once dated a woman who loved to get high and watch old television shows that her own father used to like. (It was weird, but whatever, everyone has their thing.) “You would know that if you followed me on social media.”
“Of course I follow you on social media,” says Jordan. “I just don’t spend a lot of time on social unless it has to do with work. You post a lot—it’s hard to keep up!”
“Well, that’s fine,” says Natalie, and something sounds funny about her voice. “Have you been online a lot since we’ve been here?”
“Not even once. I’m technically on vacation. I’m just checking my calls and texts.” Jordan pauses and looks more closely at her sister. “Natalie?” She touches her on the shoulder. “Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Natalie turns away and goes into the storage room herself, returning with a garbage bag full of ancient beach towels. She looks through the bag and says, “These are a disaster. They’re so threadbare they need a towel themselves. Trash.” They keep going. Collection of warped sand toys, decades-old sand still trapped in them. Trash. A box of cloth napkins, zillions of them. Donate.
Kids’ books are next, in a clear Rubbermaid with a bright blue lid. Natalie’s kids have so many books already but she has to take a peek. Jordan imagines her mother packing these all away for grandchildren, and then forgetting that she’d done that. And then dying.
“Bunbun!” says Natalie. She holds up a book with a yellow cover and a long-eared bunny riding a scooter. It’s calledBunbun, the Middle One. “I love this book. It’s about a rabbit who’s always getting in a muddle as the middle child.” She begins to read. “?‘This is Bunbun. Bunbun’s big brother is Benny. His little sister is Bibi. Bunbun is the middle one.’?”
