“Nobody’s ready,” says Kara, as though sheisNatalie’s therapist. “I’m around grief every single day. There are various stages of being not ready, but nobody is ready.”
“Nobody? Really?”
“Nobody,” repeats Kara. This sort of makes Natalie feel better, like she’s not worse than anyone else at having her mother die.
“That’s why I try not to say no to joy, because it’s fleeting. You could easily turn it down and it doesn’t come around again.”
Natalie thinks about life being dim sum on a lazy Susan at a Chinese restaurant. You might fail to take a spring roll as it spins by and then suddenly they’re all gone. You might grab the last egg tart, leaving none for the next person. Joy might seem like a renewable resource, but it’s finite, just like everything else.
“You missed some time with him, you and Jordan. You shouldn’t miss any more.”
The other girl successfully does the hoop and stick and Scarlett cries, “Good job!” just the way Natalie says it when she or Evangeline does something skillful with the cows. The Ladies.
“I didn’t know you couldn’t have kids,” she tells Kara. “I’m really sorry.”
“Why would you know that? It’s okay.” Kara smiles. “I came to terms with it a long time ago.” She has a lovely smile, even with the gap between her front teeth. Maybe because of the gap! It’s a smile that really transforms her face. Natalie had forgotten about that, about Kara’s smile.
Then just like that, she is not their father’s new wife but the woman who helped her family through the awfulness of two years ago, the woman whose smile sometimes managed to lead them out of the darkness, and who is still leading Calvin, step by step, out of a lonely place.
Mae was right the other day, when they talked after Kara’s arrival. There’s more than one kind of love. When they get home, maybe she’ll even admit that to Mae.
It’s past lunchtime now, and Natalie is getting hungry. She will offer to take Kara and Scarlett to Popovers, which Scarlett loves, and Natalie will let her pick out anything she wants from the baked-goods case, and she won’t even check with anyone at home to see if they want anything because this is Scarlett’s special day.
Okay,fine. She’ll let Kara pick out something from the bakery case too.
She is definitely the Favorite Daughter now.
Family is too much! This is what Jordan is thinking as she power walks the beach on Thursday afternoon. The expectations, the history, the nostalgia, the longing, the failing. How are you supposed to keep your balance with all of these living creatures, these blood relations, pulling at you? How are you expected to remain sane, remain calm, continue on the straight path in your own orbit that you have set out for yourself? She must be nicer to Kara to keep her father happy. She must keep a better eye on Mae, who’s been drowning while nobody noticed. She must continue to grieve the loss of her mother without grieving too much or too little, and that’s a scale she’s incapable of balancing. For Natalie—for Natalie, what? Does Jordan need to be more understanding of Natalie’s perplexing choices? Or more strident in her beliefs to see if she can bring Natalie around to Jordan’s way of thinking? She must be a good sister, a good aunt, a good daughter. She must finish clearing out the garage storeroom because that will put her father’s mind at ease, and she owes him that.
And. She must figure out what to do with the other part of her life, her work life. She must decide what to do about Bernadette and Samantha Braddock. On one side of the scale, the possibility of making partner, with its attendant respect and title change and, yes, money. The culmination of her hard work. Her name on the company shingle! (They work in Manhattan; there’s no shingle. But having her name on the sign near the elevator counts too.) On the other side, her integrity and... what else? Just her integrity, really. How much does her integrity weigh—is it enough to tip the scale?
She wants to talk about this with someone, someone who will really listen, someone who will tell her what to do. She’d told Natalie the outlines of it the night before, but then Mae had come in and they’d never finished. Now Natalie is reading with Scarlett and Evangeline while Caspian naps, and Jordan doesn’t want to pull her away. Mae has gone who knows where. Anyway, Jordan still thinks (will always think) of Mae as the baby and herself as the wise elder sister. You can’t ask a baby for advice, especially if that baby has recently lost all of her money in a QR code scam.
Her father? They’ve already had one heart-to-heart today. Two might be pushing it. Kara?
No. Definitely not. She’ll offer an olive branch to Kara, but she’s not ready to lay bare her heart and soul to her.
She pulls up the contact info for Samantha Braddock from theTimes.It would just take one call, one declarative sentence. The story would either die there, or, if it is published, Jordan’s quote would be enough to throw the thesis out of balance.
My boss has never treated me with anything but the utmost respect. We have a perfect working relationship.
She pictures the floating staircase in Sagaponack, the in-home movie theater, Bernadette’s hand, her scornful face.
Why don’t you loosen up, Jordan? Have a little fun.
My boss has never treated me...
If I were you I’d think carefully about what choice you make here, Jordan. I’m about to make some big decisions.
There’s one person left. She looks back at her texts from Monday—only Monday? not ten years ago, as it feels?—and finds Simone’s contact info.
Hey, she texts.Thanks so much for the ride home last night. Have time to grab a drink?Her fingers hesitate over the phone’s screen, but not for long. She hits send.
Immediately the reply comes, arriving with azing.Yes! Upstairs at The Carriage House.
Okay, thinks Jordan. This is happening.When?
Now.
