The Summer of Good Intentions (34 page)

“No thanks. I'm not hungry.”

“Mags, you need to eat something.” Pale half-moons hung under her sister's eyes, and her jeans were practically sliding off her hips. “Come on, eat.” Virgie pressed the sandwich into Maggie's hand. She took it but made no effort to eat.

“Remember when we used to climb this tree?” Maggie asked, settling down next to Gloria under the old oak and looking up at the branches, which still swam with green leaves.

“Mm-hmm,” said Jess. “And, Mom, you used to yell at us to come down before we broke our necks.”

Gloria laughed lightly. “That's true. I was sure one of you girls would kill herself.” Her eyes danced around their small circle. “And now look at you. Each one of you, beautiful and successful. I couldn't be more proud.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Jess said, patting her hand.

“I never stopped loving your father, you know that, right?” Gloria announced out of the blue. “We just grew apart. I wanted the rest of our lives to be exciting, filled with culture and all the things the city had to offer. Your dad, though, was perfectly content writing his books and taking walks on the beach. That was his world. I grew tired of it.”

Maggie shot Virgie a glance but said nothing.

“I'm heartbroken that this is how his life ended.” Her eyes, steely blue, turned a milky gray as she stared at the house. “I wish I could have done something to stop it.”

“We all do,” said Jess quietly.

For a few minutes, everyone was quiet. At last, Maggie broke the silence. “I figure the downstairs is going to take us the rest of the day. Then upstairs is where the real mess begins.”

Jess groaned. “You must be kidding.”

“Sorry,” said Maggie. “The only easy part about the upstairs is that pretty much everything can get tossed.”

“Maybe we should hire professional cleaners for that part?” Virgie suggested. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. Not to mention her back was killing her. Though she wasn't about to complain. For a blessed twenty-four hours, no one had asked her about her diagnosis or what she was going to do or how she was feeling. The last few days had been all about Arthur. The shock of Arthur.

“I thought of that,” offered Maggie, setting down her uneaten sandwich. “But I don't know that in good conscience we can ask professionals to go in there and clean. We might need to get rid of the first layer of yuck.”

“But isn't that what professionals get paid to do?” Jess pressed. “My conscience would be perfectly fine with it.”

Virgie laughed. “Mine, too.”

“Let's see how it goes,” said Maggie.

Her mother let a small sigh escape from her lips. “I had no idea it had gotten this bad.”

They stopped and stared at her. “This bad?” Virgie inquired. “You mean, you
knew
Dad was hoarding stuff?”

“Oh, well.” Gloria waved her hand as if she suddenly thought better of it. “I didn't
know
know. I just kind of suspected.”

“Mom, what are you saying?” It was Jess this time who sounded incredulous.

“Well, it was nothing specific. Just a feeling I got. You know, sometimes when Dad and I chatted, he'd mention a great find he'd discovered at a rummage sale. Or he'd prattle on about how he got an entire set of
National Geographic
s and didn't I think the grandkids would love them? I didn't think there was anything obsessive about it, maybe just a little strange.” She shrugged. “He was lonely.”

“I still don't get it,” Maggie pressed. “Did you or didn't you suspect that Dad had gone off the deep end?”

“Maggie, stop,” Jess cautioned. “This isn't an inquisition. Mom was as much out of the loop as we were, probably more so. Arthur didn't tell any of us. He didn't want anyone to know. He was a smart man. He was probably embarrassed.”

Virgie watched while Maggie dug the toe of her sneaker into the ground and twisted, making a small indentation in the grass.

“I didn't know. I swear,” promised Gloria. “I never imagined anything like this.” She frowned and gestured toward the house.

Virgie crinkled up her sandwich wrapper and tossed it into the bag along with the empty soda can. She felt around in her jeans pocket for some gum and was surprised by what her fingers landed on. She'd forgotten she'd grabbed it at the last minute. When she left the summer house, Sal had dropped by one last time to say good-bye. He'd also given her a little memento to remember the summer by. Now her fingers played with the joint in her pocket. Were her sisters too goody-goody to enjoy something like this? Would her mother be appalled?

Virgie decided she didn't care. She could really use a few puffs, and so, it seemed, could everyone else around her. She pulled the tightly wrapped coil out of her pocket and held it up to the group. “Anyone interested in a quick smoke before we head back in?” She grinned.

“Is that what I think it is?” Maggie spun around.

Virgie tilted her head to the side. “That depends.”

“Virginia Herington!” exclaimed Gloria. “I can't believe you brought drugs to your father's house!”

And somehow, with her mother's pronouncement, they all broke into laughter. There was something ridiculous about being upset about a little marijuana on the premises, given all the other horrors that lurked inside.

“I'm in,” Jess said. “I can't remember the last time I got high.”

“Me, too.” Maggie glanced around. “Who has matches?”

“Hey!” Virgie called out to the Dumpster guy, who sat in the front seat of his truck with his buddy, eating a sandwich. She held up the joint. “Got a light?”

It didn't take long to realize that there was no way they'd get through cleaning the entire house in just one week. More like a month. Maybe six months. Jess was the first to point it out, though Maggie suspected they'd all been thinking the same thing. They agreed they would finish what they could by the end of the day, Saturday, and then she and Jess would handle the rest in pieces, coming up on weekends and hiring a professional cleaning crew once the house had been emptied and tidied up.

Arthur's place wouldn't be going on the market anytime soon.

Project Clean-Up had morphed into Project Throw-Out. After they broke through the fortresses of boxes upstairs, they began tossing what they could directly out the window into the Dumpster below. There was no point in saving Arthur's clothing for Goodwill; it all reeked with the overpowering stench of his bedroom. And so they threw pants, shirts, old blazers, socks, shoes, every item of clothing out the window. The larger boxes in his office, filled with fresh supplies of paper towels and toilet paper and such, were easier to tote down the stairs. Jess and Virgie hauled out a few before letting Red Sox Guy and his buddy cart off the rest to Goodwill.

Maggie's back muscles ached. Even her calf muscles smarted. She couldn't remember doing this much physical labor since, well, childbirth. On the way back to the hotel yesterday, she'd stopped at the pharmacy to pick up a couple of tubes of Ben-Gay. A young teenager with a pierced lip sold them to her with a grin.
Just you wait,
she wanted to say.
This will be you someday, so wipe that smirk off your face
. Then she realized he was smiling at the young woman in line behind her. Back at the hotel, she rubbed the cream into every pore of her body, relishing the wonderful tingling sensation as her muscles began to unknot.

They were cleaning in Arthur's study on Saturday when Gloria excused herself to get some fresh air. Maggie glanced over at Virgie. Her T-shirt was wet with sweat. Even with multiple fans blowing, the upstairs felt like a sauna. “You should take it easy, Virgie.” Maggie turned to her now. “You don't want to overdo it.”

“Thanks. I'm okay, aside from the usual aches and pains of moving all this crap. I honestly don't think I've ever cleaned out such a pit unless you count my apartment in college,” she added. “And that was a much smaller space.”

“Did you tell Mom yet?” Jess asked as she piled books into boxes. “You know, about the MS?” Maggie noticed that Virgie had avoided discussing her diagnosis since she'd arrived. In some ways, sorting through Arthur's things had been a convenient distraction. At least her sister was
talking,
unlike the glum, withdrawn teenager she'd become back in Windsor. But eventually, her sister would have to face the facts.

“No,” admitted Virgie. “I figured she had enough to deal with right now. I will. Eventually. So, what's the plan for Dad's ceremony tomorrow?” she asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

“Well,” Maggie began, willing to take the bait. She and Gloria had been working to set up a simple memorial service for a group of Arthur's closest friends. “Nothing too fancy. There should be about thirty people. Jay and the Stonehills are driving up from the Cape. Some of Dad's friends from town. Mom, us, maybe Gio?” Maggie paused. “Though I'm not sure about Gio, come to think of it. Mom hasn't really said. And, of course,
Jackson
.” Her voice dripped with sugary sweetness. “We can't wait to meet this Mr. Wonderful, Virgie.”

Virgie smiled. Maggie knew her sister was excited; she'd been checking her cell every fifteen minutes for messages, up until the battery died, that is. “I hope you like him.”

“I'm sure we will,” said Maggie. “And if we don't, we'll let you know.” Her sister laughed.

“At least the weather is supposed to be good tomorrow,” Jess said. “In the seventies.”

“Perfect weather for a funeral.” Virgie caught herself and giggled. “You hear that, Daddy?” She called in the general direction of the vase with Arthur's ashes that sat atop the fireplace mantel. Maggie lifted an eyebrow, but Virgie just smiled. “What? I feel like he's in the room with us. He kind of is, isn't he?”

“Thank goodness,” Jess said. Maggie knew she was alluding to yesterday's scare: they'd been cleaning in the guest room, when Gloria stopped, scanned the room. “Where are Daddy's ashes?” she asked.

Everyone stared at her, as if she were posing the most ridiculous question in the world.

“Downstairs?” Jess had asked. “Right? Isn't that where we left him?”

Virgie giggled. “It sounds funny, like Daddy's sitting downstairs in his chair.” Before she'd finished talking, though, both Maggie and Jess were tromping down the steps.

“Where is it?” Jess called out.

“It's got to be here somewhere,” Gloria cried as she came downstairs. “You don't think,” she began, then shook her head when everyone looked at her. “Oh, nothing.”

“What, Mom? What is it?” Maggie snapped.

“I was just thinking how strange it would be if we happened to toss Arthur's ashes out with the rest of his junk.” She motioned around the room, which was now relatively clean.

“Mom, please don't go there.” Maggie groaned. “As Lexie would say, ‘That is
so
not funny.' ”

Minutes later, Red Sox Guy appeared holding the vase in his hands, the delicate blue flowers stitching around it. “Is this what you're looking for?” Jess ran up and snatched it from him.

“Where did you find this?” Her tone carried a mild accusation.

“I put it out near the bushes. I didn't want it to get knocked over when we were hauling stuff out. Thought that would have been pretty bad.”

Maggie let out a breath. “Yes, that would have been bad,” she agreed. “Thank you, um . . .”

“Ernest,” he filled in. “The name's Ernest.”

“Thank you, Ernest,” Maggie echoed. And since then, the vase had been following them from room to room, carefully placed out of harm's way.

Maggie continued pulling manila files from Arthur's desk and tossing them into the trash. “Junk. Years' and years' worth of old bank statements. Honestly, what did Dad think he'd need these for? Statements dating back to the eighties?”

Jess shook her head. “Who knows? About the only thing we know about Dad at this point is that we didn't know him very well.”

Virgie stood and clapped her hands on her jeans, sending grime flying. “I don't know about that,” she said. “I think we knew Daddy pretty well, aside from this particular side of him.”

“Well, it's a pretty huge side of him, wouldn't you say?” Jess demanded.

“So, his house turned into a mess after Mom left. So what?” Virgie said. “He was still working at the library, still writing books, still had plenty of friends. It wasn't as if he became a recluse. He wasn't
crazy
.”

Jess shot Maggie a look.

“Look,” continued Virgie. “I know I'm the baby sister, but Dad and I were close. Really close. I'd like to think that the person I knew and trusted and loved was the real Arthur, too. They were all pieces of the same man.”