Chapter Twenty-Three

Rhyme’s volunteer fire department did not expect gingersnaps and lemonade, but Mae feeds all guests.

Libby sprinted to the smoldering condominium. “Mom, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Elizabeth. It was a little cooking accident, nothing more.”

The fire chief rolled his eyes as Mae continued. “I put most of it out with some baking soda, but those touchy smoke detectors go off at the smallest thing. And of course Myrna, the busybody, heard the alarm and had to make a big production out of it and call in the cavalry.”

The cavalry was two engines and an ambulance. “I only called you because I knew Myrna would tattle on me, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

Sean’s truck screeched to a halt behind them. He and Kevin sprang out and jogged over.

“Everybody okay?” Sean asked.

“Yes dear,” Mae answered. “Why are you all making such a fuss? And Kevin, why aren’t you at work? There was no need to rush over here; honestly you three are such worry warts.”

“Let me make the call on that, okay Mom?” Kevin asked. “I’m going to go see if we can get back inside.” He walked over to the officer in charge.

“Tell me what happened,” Sean said to his mother. “Was it a grease fire, or did something catch in the oven? If it’s an electrical issue, I need to know so I can get a team back out here and inspect the other units.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the electrical,” Mae explained. “I had water on the stove, and I walked away for a minute, something must have been on the burner, and it got all smoky. That’s all, no drama.”

Kevin rejoined them. “They said Mom can go in to get some stuff, but she’ll need to move out until the repairs are done, and the building inspector comes through.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mae fumed. “It was a little smoke, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Let’s check it out first,” Libby said. “We’ll decide after we see how bad it is.”

The four entered the house to the smell of burning metal. Libby walked ahead to the kitchen. “I’m going to open the window and get some air in here.” But there was no window. There was no kitchen. A mess of water and charred debris littered the small space, the remains of a saucepot sat beyond recognition in what was left of the sink.

“Kev,” she called to the living room, “can you come in here and help me open this window? It’s stuck.”

Kevin entered. “Holy shit.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“How the hell did this happen?” he asked.

Libby pointed to the remains of the saucepot. “Take it from me, I burn plenty of things in the kitchen, and that type of damage didn’t happen ‘in a minute.’ She put the stove on and forgot. It could have been a heck of a lot worse. Thank God she has an end unit and the kitchen faced out. The fire could have spread to the entire development. What do we do?”

“Okay, let’s not confront her right now, she’ll freak out. Go help her get some clothes and she’ll stay with me and Suz for a few days.” Libby started to object, and he stopped her. “No, it’ll be fine. Sara is an excellent buffer. We can suck it up while we figure this mess out. Send Sean in, we need to know how much time this is going to take to fix. I can’t hold Suzanne back forever, more than a couple weeks, and she and Mom will kill each other.”

Libby left and sent Sean in. “Holy shit!” he said.

“That’s the consensus,” Kevin answered.

“This isn’t good.”

“No kidding.”

“Seriously Kev...” He kicked some debris aside and checked the outer wall. “I’ve got to rip this all out and shore up the whole thing. We’re talking months.”

“Dear God, no.”

“Yes.”

“Suzanne will throw a clot.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”

Kevin paused. “I think we’ve got a bigger problem than the Suzanne/Mae cage match, don’t you?”

Sean sized up the scene. “Yeah, we do.”

“She can’t live alone, it’s not safe. We got lucky this time, but what if it happens again?”

“It can’t. She’ll kill herself, or somebody else.”

Libby came back in. “I got her to pack a bag, and sent her to Myrna’s for a minute. What are we going to do? We need a plan.”

“Got any suggestions?” Sean asked.

“No,” she answered. “Let’s talk privately, the three of us, before we say anything to Mom. I’m open tonight, how about you?” The brothers agreed. “Good, come to the house after work, bring junk food. I need empty calories when I’m stressed.”

“What,” Kevin joked, “no tequila?”

“You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“I have pictures.”

“I hate you.”

****

At seven, Sean, Kevin, and Suzanne arrived at the O’Rourke’s with several pizzas and two large pink bakery boxes from Annie’s.

Libby made an exception to the “no food upstairs” rule and let Charlie and Shannon take a pizza up to the master bedroom and watch a movie on TV.

Suzanne put the baby down in the portable crib and came downstairs to join the rest of the adults in the living room.

“White or red?” Bob held up two bottles of wine. “Or is this the kind of conversation we need both?”

“Both,” Kevin immediately responded. He reached over and grabbed one of the cups Lib brought in for the soft drinks. “And don’t bother with the nice glasses; I’m good with a kiddie cup. Feels like I’m reconnecting with my inner child. Dibs on the race car.”

“Leave me the airplane,” Sean shouted. “Lib, do you want a big girl glass, or do you want to duke it out with Suzanne for the ballerina?”

“Listen dummy, you’re lucky I even have clean cups. It’s this, or a juice box, deal with it.” Libby reached into the corner cabinet and grabbed two wineglasses. “Suzanne and I are adults. Bob do you want a wineglass, or the tugboat cup?”

He grinned.

“Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked,” she said.

Bob poured the wine as Libby passed out paper plates and napkins and took a seat. “Okay, first let me make sure we are all on the same page. Kev, I know Mom told Sean what Dr.Rashan said, but did she tell you guys, too?”

Kevin swallowed a bite of pie. “Yeah, but I think we got the sugar-coated version.”

“What do you mean?”

Kevin looked at Suzanne. She nodded. “Mom told us the minimum,” he said. “She didn’t go into details, so I did the same thing as Lib—surfed the net for info. Kind of grim reading.”

Suzanne daintily put down her wineglass. “Tell them about dinner the other night.”

“I am honey; I’m just not sure where to start.” He rubbed his balding head. “Honestly, I’m not sure it’s a big deal.”

Sean refilled his cup. “Kev, you’re probably right, but let’s hear it anyway.”

“Mom came over for dinner last week,” Kevin explained. “She was her usual bowl of compliments; giving Suz advice, lecturing me on going to church more—typical Mom. We finished eating, Sara started to fuss, and Mom offered to take her upstairs and get her down for the night. We jumped on that like a dog on a bone. Our daughter, God love her, is not a sound sleeper. The baby monitor was on in the living room, and we could hear Mom talking to Sara upstairs, but she’s not calling her Sara, she calling her Meghan.”

“That is so strange,” Libby interrupted. “Mom called me Meghan when we had our big fight a few weeks ago. She claimed it was ‘a slip of the tongue.’”

“Huh,” Kevin continued. “It wasn’t a onetime slip of the tongue at our place. Mom said the name at least three or four times.”

“Does she know a Meghan?” Sean asked.

Suzanne spoke up. “That’s the worst part, when Mae came downstairs Kevin asked her about it, and she exploded. She told us to mind our own business and made Kev take her home right away. Of course, she blamed me for somehow fabricating the whole thing. I know you all love your Mom, and I’m sorry she’s going through this, but she was a little harsher than usual to me this time. It hurt.”

Libby hugged her sister-in-law. “I’m so sorry; I know she beats up on you a lot. I appreciate you putting up with her, Suzanne. Mom can be hard to handle sometimes. Okay, most the time.”

“It’s okay. I’m tougher than I look. But if I snap and punch her in the nose one of these days, I want you all to know I tried to be the bigger person before I resorted to violence.” All five burst into laughter. For the first time, Libby was seeing Kevin’s wife in a new, more human, light.

Sean took over the conversation. “What are we going to do? Anybody got suggestions? Up until now, Mom’s been okay living on her own, but after the visit from the fire department, it’s not safe. Ninety percent of the time she’s fine, it’s that other ten percent that’s keeping me up at night.”

“I’m with Sean,” Bob spoke up. “I think it’s time to think about a different living arrangement.”

Kevin and Suzanne exchanged a brief glance. “I don’t want to put this all on the rest of you,” he said. “But Suz and I talked, and we’re good with Mom for the short term, a few weeks maybe, but I think her coming to stay with us longer than that is an awful idea. I’m willing to help financially if we think assisted living is an option. I printed out some info on a few of the top places, but they’re pricey.” He handed out copies.

“These look good, Kev,” Sean said. “But I’m not sure Mom is at this stage yet. The problem is, she’s somewhere in the middle, she goes days without an issue, then something changes and we run the risk of a visit from the fire department. She doesn’t need a babysitter, but she does need consistency. At least that’s my take on it.”

“I agree,” Libby said. “There has to be a middle ground, a way Mom can stay independent and safe. She’s capable of caring for herself, but knowing someone is nearby if she needs help would give us all peace of mind. And for the love of all that’s holy, she has to think it’s her idea. If she even suspects we talked about her behind her back like this, someone is going to pay.”

“It’ll be me,” Suzanne moaned. “You know it will be me.”

Sean put an arm around her shoulder. “I promise we’ll protect you, Suz. Between the three of us, we can take her.”

“So, the problem is,”—Kevin put on his boardroom face—“Mom needs to live somewhere between where she is now, and assisted living, but she cannot live with any of us unless we have a death wish. Her place is rented, and if she keeps having visits from the fire department the management company has the right to cancel her lease. Where does that leave us?”

Bob drained the last of the red wine into Libby’s glass. “We need more wine. Lib, where’s the bottle of red you stashed after Thanksgiving?”

“Top of the pantry,” Libby answered.

“I’m on it.” Two seconds later, he yelled from the kitchen, “Lib, I don’t see it? Are you sure you didn’t drink it? Come help me look.”

“He can quote law dating back to the Civil War but can’t find a bottle of wine.” She pushed back from the table and walked into the kitchen. Bob stood behind the counter, the so-called missing bottle of wine on the counter in front of him.

“Let me guess,” Libby said. “You found it the moment my foot hit the kitchen floor, right?”

He wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I found it right away, but I wanted to talk to you alone. And before you jump to conclusions, this is not another sneaky ploy for sex. I know you’re disappointed, but no matter how hard you beg I won’t give you a quickie on the counter.”

She laughed. The release felt terrific. “If not to ply me with sex, what did you want me to come in here for?”

“This isn’t the wine talking, okay?” He sat in a kitchen chair and pulled her into his lap. “After you talked to Will a few weeks back I started thinking about what might be coming down the road for Mae. I’m a lawyer. We plan. Sue me.”

She smiled.

Bob continued, “None of us know how or when her symptoms are going to surface, but if the last month is any indication, we need to be proactive.”

“I know, that’s why we are all here. Did you have an idea?”

“Yes. But I’m ninety-nine percent sure you are going to hate it.”

“Try me.”

“The cottage.” Libby’s blank stare forced him to explain. “It’s a disaster right now, and I know it would take some serious work, but what if we converted it into an apartment for Mae? I know Sean could design it so she can live independently, maybe not forever, but for the time being. We could use safety shut-offs on the appliances, and a call button to the main house. I’m not sure what her needs are going to be, but Sean did a lot of that type of work for Joe Battaglia’s mom, I know he could make it work for Mae. Plus, Dom’s right here and you know he’ll be an extra set of hands if we ever need him. The hard part will be convincing her to make the move.”

He paused. “You aren’t saying anything. I hate it when you don’t say anything. It means one of two things, you’re about to blow, or cry.”

Her eyes moistened, and he said, “Crap, the latter.”

He wrapped his burly arms around her while she wept.

“How did I get so lucky?” she asked between sobs.

“I’m the lucky one.” He held her tight. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

She pulled back and kissed him. “I think it’s a good idea. I may need drugs and counseling later, but I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“How are we going to sell it to Mae?”

“No clue, let’s go run it by the tribunal.” They stood, and Bob grabbed the wine off the counter to follow Libby back into the dining room.

When they reappeared, the group was laughing over the Thanksgiving discussion of Sean’s sexual preferences. “Talk about humiliating,” Sean said. “When Mom said she thought I was gay, I nearly choked.”

“No worries, Caroline defended you,” Kevin said and slid Sean a grin.

He knows something, Sean thought.

Kevin took the newly opened wine bottle and topped off everyone’s glass. “You two were gone a while,” he said to Libby. “Everything okay?”

“That’s up for debate,” Libby said. “Bob has an idea, a really good idea, but it may involve a little shock therapy for me down the road.”

Bob laid out his plan for everyone. Sean was the first to respond. “In theory, it sounds terrific, and this is Mae Day’s slow season, so I could get started as early as next week. One question though, how do we broach the subject with Mom in a way that doesn’t sound as if we think she’s losing it?” He paused. “Do we think she’s losing it?”

“No,” Libby answered. “According to Dr. Rashan, there is no reason to assume Mom will take the same path as Gram. The more we keep things familiar, the better for Mom in the long run. That’s why it’s necessary to convince her to move now. If we wait, and she does turn for the worse, moving her to an unfamiliar environment will be a disaster. In fact, I noticed every time she goes for her follow up appointments, Dr. Rashan puts her in the same room, the blue room. After the last visit, I asked her nurse, Olivia, about the colored doors. She said keeping the patients in the same room each visit helped reduce agitation in the most advanced cases.”

“Is there a chance Mom’s condition will worsen if we move her now?” Sean asked.

“From what I’ve read and everything Dr. Rashan told me, now is better than later. I’ll take the first step and broach the subject with Mom. I need everyone’s help getting the crap out of the cottage ASAP. Sean, can you drop a dumpster by for the junk?”

“I’ll ask Deb to order one for later this week. When do you want to talk to Mom, or do you want us to come with you?”

“No, I’ll get the ball rolling,” Libby said. “Mom will react better if I speak with her alone. Three McGinns would be overwhelming, and I don’t want her to feel ambushed. I’ll call if I need reinforcements,”

“I have an, idea,” Suzanne said. “That is, if you think it’s my place.”

“Suz, you have the same place in this family as the rest of us. Go ahead.”

“Okay, this is just something I noticed. I find Mae’s mood is best on Sunday, after church. She actually complimented my outfit last week, and it was the same one she told me looked like something a blind hippie would wear a few weeks earlier.”

“She’s right,” Sean responded. “Not about the outfit, Suz, I mean when I take Mom to mass she’s more agreeable after. Kind of like God forgave her the garbage she pulled the week before, and she’s trying to keep her nose clean for a few hours. If I were you, Lib, I’d take her this Sunday and have lunch or something after. While you have her tied up—that’s a figure of speech Lib, don’t get any ideas—the rest of us can start emptying the cottage.”

It was a good plan. Mae was entitled to live where she wanted, and not even her well-intentioned children had the right to strip that away from her. The words Libby selected would have to be chosen carefully. One wrong statement could end any chance they had at convincing Mae the move was the best possible solution.

“Whose turn is it in the church rotation anyway?” Libby asked. The children alternated Mae’s church shuttle service after Bernie passed away. The holy rotation kept the unsolicited advice distributed equally among siblings.

“I took Mom last week,” Sean said. Mae’s play-by-play commentary on female parishioners recently widowed, or even separated or divorced kept him on his toes. “Let me tell you, I should get overtime pay for that one. She dragged me downstairs for coffee hour and turned it into crazy Catholic speed dating. I was introduced as her ‘bachelor’ son to every woman of childbearing age and by the time I got out, not only did I feel like a prize bull on the auction block, but I’d somehow gotten roped into tiling the rectory kitchen for free!”

“Oh, I’ve got you beat,” Bob said. “Lib was sick a few weeks ago, and the kids and I took Mae to church with us. On the way home, she asked if we could swing by the market so she could grab a few things. We got there, and she picked up the staples, bread, milk, and eggs. Then she headed to the produce section and put four heads of cabbage in the cart. I made the mistake of asking her what she was making. She said cabbage leaves reduce muscle swelling and her shoulders and chest hurt after yoga sometimes. As it turns out, instead of taking ibuprofen, Mae stuffs cabbage leaves in her bra. Try getting that image out of your head.”

“Note to self,” Kevin said. “Never eat Mom’s coleslaw.”

Libby finished her wine in a gulp. “I’ll take her to The Old Mill for lunch. She and Daddy loved going there after church.”

“Good call,” Sean said. “Why don’t the rest of us meet here at nine and get started on the cottage? Lib, will you have time to take a look and see if there is anything you want to keep in there before we start tossing stuff?”

“I gave it a once over a few months ago, but I’ll use a personal day this week and take another stab at it before Sunday. Caroline needs to get over here, too, we have a bunch of old furniture from her dad’s place, and she might want it back.” She looked at the time. “I can’t call her now; she’s out with Joey Battaglia. I’ll catch her first thing in the morning.”

“Ooo,” Suzanne half-growled. “Good for Caroline, Joe is a hottie!” She patted Kevin’s hand. “Not as hot as you, honey.”

“Nice save,” Kevin said, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “When did they start dating?”

“They’ve only been out a few times,” Libby answered. “It was going pretty strong for a while, but Caroline got kind of lukewarm about him after Thanksgiving.”

Sean did an inner fist pump.

Libby continued, “Suzanne’s right, though...Officer Battaglia has it going on in all the right places, and I’m not just saying that because I let him feel me up in seventh grade.”

“Should I be jealous?” Bob smiled.

“In seventh grade my boobs were chick peas.” She squeezed his hand. “You got the better post-puberty deal.”

Uncomfortable with Libby’s boob talk and eager to move the conversation from Caroline’s love life, Sean set a plan for the weekend. “I’ll bring a container truck on Sunday. That way we can move the furniture back to Caroline’s place or haul it off to the Salvation Army. Same goes for the rest of the big stuff. You sure you’re okay talking with Mom by yourself, Lib?”

Libby knew the Pope would celebrate Hanukah before Mae changed homes willingly, but she was ready to try.