Blessing in Disguise (42 page)

Lila, clearly, knew it, too.

“The cat’s already out of the bag as far as you’re concerned.” She fished another cracker from the box and popped it into her mouth. “I guess now it’s just a question of what to do with kitty.”

“Any suggestions?” Grace forced a smile that felt tight and uncomfortable.

“Don’t look at me.” Lila laughed, shaking her head so that her dangly beaded earrings tinkled and danced. “My specialty is strictly canine.”

“Mother, you really ought to try the smoked-duck salad. It’s made with these baby lettuces and arugula and ...”

“Thank you, dear, but my tastes aren’t so exotic as yours,” said Cordelia, looking up from her menu, politely but firmly putting a stop to Grace’s gushing. “I’ve been away from the city too long, I’m afraid. Something plain and simple will do.”

“Well, in that case, the roast chicken ...”

“Honestly, dear, I’m
fine.
Really, I’m afraid I’ve been monopolizing you at the expense of your other guests.” She looked around the table, beaming beneficently at Lila and Jack. Mother’s way of letting her know that she was being a lousy hostess—talking too much, acting nervous, and, worse,
showing off.

“Well, then ...” Grace glanced about at the walls hung with tasteful prints and lit with sconces. In her opinion, Chelsea’s most interesting restaurant, and Mother was already letting her know it was somehow failing to measure up.

Grace now felt acutely aware of the fixed smile she couldn’t seem to dislodge from her face. And her dimwitted babbling—it was like one of those noisy generators that flick on automatically when the power lines go down in a storm. No doubt her way of avoiding saying what she was really thinking.

“Jack, why don’t you order the wine?” Handing him the wine list, again she felt foolish, a throwback, as if no woman could possibly pick a decent bottle of wine.

Jack chose a California Merlot, and turned to her mother.

“So, Cordelia, Grace tells me you haven’t been back to New York since you lived here. Bet you hardly recognize the place. The Big Apple ain’t what it used to be, huh?” Jack leaned toward Mother, appearing huge, his shadow seeming to blot out the candle flickering in the center of the table.

Grace felt a bit crowded by Jack, and suddenly, sickeningly, she was seeing him through her mother’s eyes: too large, too loud ... too jokily familiar with someone he’d only just met. Everything that Win was not.

Mother, though, was smiling graciously and saying, “It’s noisier, for one thing. And, goodness, so ... overwhelming. But to me the Empire State will always be its tallest building.”

“Speaking of the Empire State, when I was little, I saw a man jump from the top floor,” Lila put in, elbows planted on either side of her plate, her chin resting on the backs of her knobby wrists. “That was in the days before they had that Plexiglas barricade. You can’t believe how long it takes someone to reach the ground from that far up. I remember at first thinking it was a pigeon, floating way up there. Until he hit. There was a lot of blood. I think that’s when I decided to become a vegetarian.”

Grace felt herself wince at Lila’s unintended ghoulishness, then thought.
Yes, but deep down isn’t that what you want? For Lila to be off-the-wall, to stir things up?
Maybe, if they could get past this polite chitchat, they might actually get around to talking about why Mother was here.

“Lila’s our resident animal-rights crusader,” Grace said with a laugh. “Did you know she grooms dogs for a living?”

Cordelia perked up. “Really? How interesting.”

“You wouldn’t believe how dog-eat-dog it can be,” deadpanned Lila.

Jack let loose a hearty laugh, and Grace and her mother joined in. People at other tables glanced their way. Lila toyed with her fork, a look on her face like that of the class clown who’s just one-upped the teacher.

Then Mother piped up, “Speaking of jobs ... Grace, did I tell you that Caroline has gone back to work?”

In her bouclé-wool suit the frothy green of a mint julep, an Hermès scarf knotted artfully about her throat, Cordelia looked perfectly at ease, as if there had never been a harsh word between her and Grace. As if Sissy weren’t clearly her favorite child.

“Sissy? No, I don’t think so.” In fact, Grace couldn’t remember Sissy’s
ever
having worked.

“She’s volunteering three days a week at the hospital. As a nurse’s aide.” Cordelia broke off a tiny piece of bread and nibbled at it. “I think it’s just wonderful of her, don’t you?”

Grace managed a noncommittal “Mmmm.”

“I’m so glad to see her doing something with herself, now that she’s got more time on her hands, what with the boys in Little League ... and with Beech ...” She faltered a bit, and Grace thought she saw a tiny frown print itself between Mother’s perfectly plucked brows. But she quickly recovered and went on with a wry laugh, “Oh well, you know, another one of his bright ideas: going around the countryside and selling people on those prefab storage units. Keeps him on the road and out of Sis—Caroline’s hair.” She did a pretty good job of making it sound like the harmless meanderings of a well-to-do eccentric instead of what it was—a loser at loose ends.

“The life of a rep.” Jack nodded agreeably. “It can be rough, logging all those miles. Our winter sales conference? Half the reason we hold it in Puerto Rico every year is to reward our people with a little pool time after six months of schlepping in and out of a million stores.”

Grace could feel Jack’s hand on her knee under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze that said,
It’s going to be okay.

A month ago, she might have bought Jack’s optimism, but since their argument the other night, she could no longer make herself believe that things generally worked out for the best. Both she and Jack were going out of their way to avoid the subject of marriage. But sometimes what’s
not
being said, she thought, can convey far more than words.

Their waiter reappeared—with his wire-rim glasses and slicked-back hair, he looked more like a moonlighting investment banker than the aspiring actor he probably was—and she listened while he rattled off the specials as swiftly and expertly as if calling in orders on the floor of the Stock Exchange. She ordered the duck salad to start, and trout with grilled mushrooms, and felt miffed when Mother ignored everything on the exotic menu and requested a simple green salad, dressing on the side, and the roast chicken.

“Grace tells me your publishing house has quite a prestigious list,” Mother said, turning to Jack.

Grace caught the faint irony in her tone, and stiffened. She could feel the whole length of her spine against the back of her chair, as if it were stapled there. Not that Mother would ever create a scene, not here, in front of people. She’d open a vein in her wrist with her knife before she’d do that.

“We care about what goes out with our imprint on it ... and about what book buyers want.” Jack fielded the comment smoothly. “Sometimes, it’s an uneasy mix.”

“But in the end, it’s all about turning a profit, isn’t it?”

Mother’s eyes flashed; then she glanced quickly away, looking uncomfortable. She might dislike Jack for publishing
Honor Above All
... but she couldn’t dislike the man himself. Who could?

It was Lila who rescued them.

“You should try grooming dogs for a living.” She laughed, sipping her Dewar’s, straight-up. “It’s more than just clipping them. You’ve got to know about canine diseases, and worms, and ... well, cleaning teeth and clipping nails. Not every dog will sit still for that.”

Grace dabbed her mouth with her napkin so her mother wouldn’t see her smile. She was expecting Mother to be put off by Lila’s unsavory mention of diseases and worms, but instead Mother laughed and said lightly, “I’m not sure I would, either.”

Two years ago, Mother would not have found humor in Lila’s comment. Was she starting to loosen up a bit?

Grace once more remembered Sissy’s letter, and wondered:
Mr. Ross?

Their waiter poured a splash of wine in Jack’s glass, and she watched while he tasted it, nodding. Jack looked handsome in his nubby gray blazer and paisley tie, but its tail was flipped back to reveal its underside, as if he’d been running to catch a taxi and hadn’t noticed. She longed to smooth it back into place, yet at the same time felt the need to keep her distance.

She remembered what Chris had said to Hannah last night, something about their going swimming in the creek up at the cabin next summer. Jack had looked the other way. Had he been envisioning, as Grace had, a summer when they might not all be together?

Right now, she could feel pressure radiating from Jack, almost hear him urging her to break the ice ... to stop the small talk and get on with the real stuff. Easy for him to say. He’d built a career on being direct, forthright. That was one of the things that had most attracted her to him.

He’s right,
she thought.
If I don’t confront Mother, get this out in the open, I’ll hate myself and go on resenting her.

“While we’re on the subject of dogs,” Mother said, “did you know Win is getting Chris a puppy? A golden retriever.”

Whatever Grace had been about to say was blasted away by Mother’s news. A dog? When he was little, Chris had begged for one. And, oh, the ecstatic look on his face when she’d finally, over Win’s objections (“Dirty, smelly beasts”) brought home big, dopey, hairy Harley. And then, after months of sneezing and runny eyes, when she’d discovered that she was allergic to dogs ... she’d thought Chris’s heart would break, and her own, too, the way he’d sobbed and clung to that collie’s neck when Lila was taking Harley away.

And now Win was getting him a puppy?

What was he trying to pull?

She felt her breathing quicken, anger rising in her.

Her fingers were involuntarily shredding the paper doily that had come with her drink. She clenched her hands to regain control of them. “A dog? No, I hadn’t heard.”

“Chris is absolutely thrilled,” Mother continued brightly. “They’re picking it up at the breeder’s this weekend. Chris didn’t it mention it to you? How odd. Honestly, he was nearly jumping out of his skin. This is just what that boy needs, if you ask me.”

Jack shot Grace a sharp look that was somehow both sympathetic and goading. In that instant, she felt her careful control snap.

“I tell you what
I
wish. I wish somebody had asked
me.”
She spoke sharply, half-noticing the movement of heads at other tables turning in her direction. Enough her mother’s daughter to feel chagrined, she quickly glanced down at her lap. Lowering her voice, she added, “It’s like ... like Win is sneaking behind my back all over again!”

She felt hot now. She downed the water in her glass, but it didn’t quench her thirst. She felt as if she could drink every drop of water on this planet and her throat would still be dry as a bone.

Now,
she thought.
She’s going to start in all over again about how I blew it with Win by not forgiving him. ...

It was as if she and Jack and Lila were collectively holding their breath; the very air around them was suspended until further notice. Grace felt a pulse begin to twitch in one eyelid.

Mother merely lifted an eyebrow and said, “Why, dear, if I’d known you were still brooding about
that,
I certainly would not have brought up the subject.”

Grace, her face burning, glanced at Jack, expecting a warm look of sympathy. Instead, she was confronted with a pair of cobalt eyes that measured her coolly.

Why
are
you carrying on about Win?
his cautious gaze seemed to ask.

How dare you,
Grace wanted to lash out,
when you don’t even have the guts to ask me to marry you?

Then, as if someone else were speaking, she heard herself say, “I think you know perfectly well what Win is up to with this dog, and how I’d feel about it.”

“No, I’m not sure I
do
know,” Mother answered, her voice pitched theatrically low, as if to warn Grace that she was on the verge of creating a scene. “But I don’t doubt that, if there were anything I needed reminding of, you’d be certain to do so.”

Grace saw the opening she’d been looking for, and plunged in.

“Mother, I know you’re angry at me because of the book. Why not
say
it?”

“I ...
really,
Grace, have you completely forgotten your manners?” She dropped her voice to a flinty whisper, casting an embarrassed glance at Jack and Lila.

“When did I ever do anything right, according to your standards?” Grace demanded. She felt a scalding sensation in her cheeks, as if she’d been slapped. At the same time, Grace knew that it was her mother who would be hurting when she learned the painful truth about Daddy.

“I don’t believe I care for that tone,” Mother said sharply.

“Mother,
please.”
Grace felt tears start in her eyes and, in the back of her throat, the sweet, acid burn of the wine she’d been sipping, “We
have
to talk about this.” Start with the night Ned Emory was killed, she thought. Then you can get to the real reason Daddy risked his life to protect Margaret.

Mother’s mouth opened and snapped shut. “Honestly, Grace, if
you’re
not embarrassed for your guests, then I am. I can only imagine what they must be thinking, you carrying on this way.”

“Don’t mind me,” Lila said, sounding nonchalant.

Jack said nothing, but gave Grace’s hand another encouraging squeeze under the table.

Grace wanted to go on, but she couldn’t. She’d do it when they were alone. All those lectures about not making scenes—they must have been like toilet-training, something she couldn’t unlearn even if she wanted to.

“All right, Mother. We’ll talk later,” she conceded with a sinking feeling of defeat.

Throughout the rest of the meal, she listened to Jack and Lila, mostly Jack, carry on smoothly, as if nothing were remotely wrong. Jack got Mother talking about her garden, and even managed to coax a chuckle or two out of her. It wasn’t until they’d finished eating—a meal she scarcely tasted—and they were stepping outside, the freezing air hitting her in the face, that Grace found her voice again.