CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

They spent the next week preparing for their mother’s birthday party. With Anne living here now, it was easy for Laura to gather her sisters in her living room to work out the choreography for two of the songs from An American in Paris, and it helped take her mind off Jake’s absence.

Anne, the most athletic and limber of them, took the Gene Kelly part in “I Got Rhythm.” She was still a surprisingly good tapper—her childhood dance lessons hadn’t been forgotten.

Laura agreed to help them sing, but she refused to dance. Elly, though, was still a decent tapper, Laura thought. Elly and Anne choreographed the trickier bits to make them simpler while Laura provided cheerleading from the sidelines.

Somehow Elly and Kennedy had managed to find a white duck-billed cap, linen trousers, and white sweater for Anne to wear in “I Got Rhythm.” Kennedy would be dressed as a French schoolgirl with her hair in braids. They’d even found wide-lapel suit jackets from the 1950s for Kennedy, Elly, and Anne to wear when they sang “’S Wonderful” and some old French posters to use as a background.

Anne had enlisted Kennedy’s help in finding the perfect recipe for an Eiffel Tower cake. This involved Anne baking chocolate sheet cakes and cutting them into squares of decreasing sizes that could be layered on top of one another into a tower shape; the layers would be stacked on top of thin layers of buttercream frosting.

“Since the real Eiffel Tower is gray,” Anne said excitedly, “I’ll make a gray fondant with a silvery buttercream to cover the entire cake. We can roll a brick pattern into it. I’ll make a cylinder for the top, too.”

Meanwhile, throughout the week they were also taking turns visiting Sarah to make sure she was resting enough and eating well.

“It’s weird, but she actually seems happy,” Elly reported to Laura after her turn on Monday. “And Flossie’s been over there a lot.”

“Yes, and that guy she’s seeing, Gil, seems to be spending time with her, too,” Anne told them all after visiting Sarah on Tuesday afternoon following her shift in the kitchen. “He and Flossie were both having tea with her when I finished in the kitchen. And Flossie had brought Lucy over to see Mom.”

They were seated around Laura’s kitchen table for dinner. Only Kennedy was missing; she’d joined the chorus at school, to Laura’s delight, and was staying late most nights to rehearse for their holiday concert.

“So maybe Flossie did the right thing, telling us everything,” Laura said, setting a pot of chili on the table. “Mom’s been hiding from us, in a way, all these years, and now it’s like she’s out of the closet. Like Jake,” she added with a laugh that she hoped didn’t sound too bitter.

“Or it could be that having a stroke was a little mortality wake-up call,” Ryder interjected. “Your mom is appreciating everything now.”

“Do you think she’s ready to talk about a memorial service for Dad?” Anne asked.

“I don’t know,” Elly said. “When I mentioned it to her yesterday, she bit my head off. I think she’s afraid of it, truthfully. She might not be emotionally ready yet to say a final good-bye.”

“But why?” Laura said. “What does she care? She has obviously moved on.”

“Maybe she has,” Elly said. “Or maybe she’s just pretending. I still wouldn’t put anything past her.”

“I’ll ask her,” Laura said. “I’m going down there tomorrow.”

She phoned her mother first thing in the morning, as soon as she was finished turning the horses out and cleaning stalls, to say she was coming.

“Oh, really, that’s not necessary,” Sarah said. “I’m sure you have a lot on your plate now, dear, with the separation. I wouldn’t want to add to your burden.”

“Mom, it’s fine,” Laura argued. “It’s not like Jake helped me much around here anyway.”

She nearly added that her life was actually easier and happier without Jake in some ways, especially with her sisters around, but refrained. She still hadn’t told her mother the real reason behind their separation and wasn’t sure how she’d find the courage to admit to her mother that Jake was gay.

“What about the birthday party?” she asked. “Are you still feeling up for it?”

“Sure,” Sarah said with unexpected nonchalance. “Nothing to worry about there. It will all go fine with you three girls in charge.”

This was strange to hear, Laura thought as she hung up the phone and pulled on her jacket. It wasn’t like Sarah to relinquish control of anything. Certainly not of her own birthday party, which, in years past, she’d obsessed about planning for weeks.

There had been a rainstorm the night before. Now the morning glistened clear and bright, but there was wreckage everywhere: tree limbs and leaves, bits of bark. Even a few roof shingles had blown onto the lawn during the storm, Laura noticed. A wonder she didn’t hear any of that last night.

The thought of facing the impending winter on her own—clearing snow, keeping the furnace going, having lessons cancel when the roads were impassable—made Laura feel anxious.

But you’re not alone, she reminded herself: Anne would be with her. And Kennedy. Tom, too, maybe.

She passed a stand of phragmites. The reeds were tall and yellow this time of year, with thick tufts at the tops. As children, she and her sisters had called them “lion tails” and had tried bringing them into the inn, to their mother’s horror. She smiled and texted a photo of them to Tom at his office.

He’d been so sweet, coming around for lunch twice but respecting her wish not to take their relationship anywhere yet. She wanted to give Kennedy more time to adjust to going between her house and Jake’s before introducing her to Tom.

“It’s too soon for anything more,” Laura had said as she walked Tom to his car after lunch yesterday. “I’m sorry. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“It’s fine,” he said, then grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “I’m happy to wait. Just seeing those photos of you was enough to steam up my glasses and keep me going for years.”

The inn was quiet, but Rhonda stood sentry at the desk in her customary crisp blouse and skirt. “I just wanted to say hi to my mother,” Laura said, tugging her fleece down around her hips and suddenly aware that she smelled strongly of barn.

“She’s in her apartment,” Rhonda said. “Don’t tire her out before her big party!”

Rhonda, Betty, and the rest of the staff at Folly Cove had rallied around Sarah since her stroke. They were her family, too, Laura thought.

“Thanks for looking after her, Rhonda,” Laura said with a smile.

Her mother’s apartment was accessible from inside the inn, but instead of following the long hallway to the north wing, Laura went back outside and around to the apartment’s outside door. Her mother always preferred visitors to come in that way.

This end of the inn was shaded by birch trees in summer, a thick grove of them. Now, with the leaves gone, the birches gleamed white against the deep blue sky, like pale arms swimming through space. Laura remembered how she and her sisters had peeled the bark away from the birches, pretending they were Indian maidens as they inked secret messages to each other.

Odd how those fleeting memories of childhood were resurfacing with increasing frequency, now that Anne and Elly were here, as if the physical presence of her sisters gave Laura’s mind permission to open doors long closed. Surprisingly, many of those doors opened onto happy times.

Her mother’s door was unlocked when she tried it, so Laura called, “It’s me, Mom,” and walked into the living room.

Her mother was lying on the couch, her white hair thick and loose around her shoulders. She wore a gold satin dressing gown and, beneath it, white pajamas and white fur mules. She had the satisfied, sleepy expression of a cat purring in the sun.

“Wow,” Laura said. “You look good, Mom.” She glanced around the room and saw the rumpled bed through the doorway to her mother’s bedroom. She quickly looked away again, wondering if her mother had actually entertained Rhonda’s uncle here for more than just tea. She suspected the answer was yes.

Sarah’s lips twitched at Laura’s expression. “I should look good. Everyone has been taking such good care of me.”

“I’m glad.” Laura was surprised by the surge of anger traveling up her spine and making it impossible for her to sit down. Where did that spring from? She’d been working so hard to let go of her anger—toward Jake and her father, and toward her mother, too. But it was definitely still there.

She paced the room. “It was scary, seeing you in the hospital like that.” She stopped and looked at her mother. “But not as scary as some of the things Flossie told us.”

Sarah looked up at her, blinking hard. “You sound very angry, Laura.”

“I am! How could I not be?” Laura unclenched her hands when she realized she was holding them in fists at her sides and tried to take a deeper breath. “There’s so much you hid from us! You never told us where you were from. Or that you had a sister! And you never told us that you’d been in touch with Dad, even when we asked you where he was. You even let us believe he could be dead!”

“And now he is,” Sarah said quietly, and began weeping, her narrow shoulders folding forward.

“Oh, Mom.” Laura tried to cling to her fury, but the sight of her mother—so frail, hunched like that, her ankles impossibly thin, the knob of her spine clearly visible now with her head bent like that—made her own throat tighten. Her mother was an old woman. An old woman who had done some stupid things.

An old woman who was the only mother she’d ever have.

“Come on, don’t cry, Mom,” she said, and sank to the couch then, nudging her mother’s feet over so she had room to sit.

“How can you expect me not to cry when you’re yelling at me like that?” Her mother lifted her face. The mascara trailed down it in black threads.

This was so similar to something Kennedy might say to her that Laura nearly laughed. “I’m sorry, Mom. Come on. Wipe your eyes.”

She reached over and pulled a tissue out of the box on the end table. Maybe this was the way life worked, Laura thought: your mother raised you, and then it was your turn to take care of her. As simple as that.

Her mother took the tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m a sight, I bet.”

“No. You look like you’ve been crying, that’s all. But you’re still you.”

“Oh. Great.” Sarah balled up the tissue and stuffed it into her pocket, sniffing.

“So what is it? Were you really crying because I yelled at you? Or were you crying over Dad?”

“Both, I guess, but more over him. We made such a mess of things, he and I. But you know what makes me the maddest?”

Laura shook her head.

“All this time when I thought I was so independent, I was actually waiting for Neil to come home, and I didn’t even know it until now.”

“Because you loved him so much?”

Her mother shrugged. “I suppose there was love. But, more than that, I wanted to show him he was wrong, you know? I was waiting for the day your father would walk back into the Folly Cove Inn and say, ‘Wow. She did it. This joint is a palace.’ I wanted him to eat his words, all those horrible things he said about how I would fail because the inn was a curse on the Bradfords.”

Laura smiled. “He would have. This place is beautiful. And you did it all yourself.”

“With your help, of course. All you girls. I couldn’t have done it without the three of you.”

“It might have been easier without us kids around.”

“Different. But not necessarily easier. Of course, I’m the one who screwed things up, too. I know that. But I still couldn’t figure a way out of it all.”

“What do you mean?”

Her mother sighed and finally lifted her gaze from the floor, slowly turning her head toward Laura. It was unnerving, like watching a doll come to life. “It’s true what Flossie told you girls. I lied to your father and his family about everything: my own family, my education, my history with men. Do you know that your father actually thought I was a virgin?”

Laura had to laugh. “You’re kidding.”

Sarah looked offended. “It wasn’t so far-fetched. There were more virgins back in those days. And remember that he thought I was ten years younger. It was plausible. That’s the thing I’ve discovered about lying: you’ve got to keep the untruths as plausible as the truth.”

“I’ll remember that,” Laura said, rolling her eyes.

“That’s why Jake fooled us for so long, you know,” Sarah said suddenly, sitting up a little straighter. “He made every lie he told seem possible: the dental school loans, the insurance costs, his office overhead. That’s why we never guessed what he was really up to. I should have known he was gay. Such a pretty dresser and all.”

Laura covered her face briefly with one hand. “So you know.”

“I figured it out.” Her mother gave her a sharp glance. “You weren’t going to tell me, I know. But I’ve had time to think about it, since you told me about the separation. What he did to you is unforgivable. But I suppose you’ll have to be civil to him for Kennedy’s sake. That’s the way divorce is done these days. I just hope you have a good lawyer.”

“We haven’t actually made it to the legal part yet. We’re still talking.”

“Well, believe me, having a lawyer sooner is better than later,” Sarah said. “I’ll set you up. I know somebody.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Laura looked at her curiously. “So are you ready to have a memorial service for Dad? Elly wants to do it before she goes back to California.”

“She’s going back?”

Laura nodded. “But Ryder says if they try it out there for another year and she wants to come east after that, he’ll move with her.”

Sarah’s face broke into a smile. “The Viking. I’m glad she held on to that one.”

“Yes, I like him, too.” She patted her mother’s foot. “So what about a service?”

“You fix it. I’ll show up. Whenever you want. So long as it’s after my party.”

“Good.” Laura started to stand up, but her mother reached over and encircled her wrist with bony fingers.

“Wait,” she said. “About the lies, there are a couple of other things I want to tell you. My biggest regrets of all.”

“Okay. I’m listening.” Laura felt herself tense up again.

“First off, I’m sorry I never told you about my struggles.” Sarah looked away, swallowing hard, her pale forehead gleaming in the morning sunlight, her delicate profile sharp.

“Your struggles?” Laura had no idea what her mother meant.

“My depression, or my breakdowns or whatever.” She shrugged a little. “I’ve had to fight the blues all my life. Singing helped, but medication helped more.” She turned to look at Laura again, her gaze very direct now. “I worry you might have those same lows I had. You know what I’m talking about?”

Laura clasped her hands on her jeans and nodded. “I do.”

“I don’t want you to suffer like I did. There’s help for that sort of thing. There’s no shame in asking for it.” Her mother’s voice was fierce now. “Your aunt Flossie, believe it or not, with all her love of nature and no makeup, and anti this and anti that, she’s the one who helped me decide it was okay to take the pills when we found what worked. So now I’m telling you. If you need help, ask me, and I’ll see that you get it. I’m not kidding here.”

Stunned, Laura reached for her mother’s hand again, needing to touch her, to convey all the gratitude she felt but couldn’t say. “Okay.”

Sarah nodded, her voice brisk again. “Good.”

“What’s your other regret? You said you had two.”

“More than that. So much more. But the biggest regret is that I lied about my sister,” Sarah said softly. “Joanie. I wish I’d kept in touch with her.” There was a note of longing in her mother’s voice that Laura had never heard before.

“You do? Why?”

“Oh, for all sorts of reasons,” Sarah said. “I wish I’d seen Joanie grow up. I haven’t seen her since she was nineteen. Now she’s a mother and a widow. Probably a grandmother, too. And I wish I’d helped her. I couldn’t have done much for her financially—she married a wealthy man—but Joanie was sweet and always thought the best of people. I watch you girls and wonder now what it would have been like, having a sister all my life.”

“At least you have Flossie,” Laura said, not knowing any other way to comfort her. It was true: losing a sister would be terrible. It would be like losing a part of yourself.

“Yes. Flossie’s a pain in my side, but she’s my pain.” Sarah smiled and gripped Laura’s hand harder. Her fingers were cool and slim, but strong. “Most of all, I wish I could have been as good to my little sister as you’ve been to yours,” she said.

“Oh, Mom,” Laura said.

The two of them sat together on the couch in silence then, watching the birch trees beyond the window sway in the wind.

•   •   •

Sarah had provided entertainment for many parties, both as a singer and as the owner of the Folly Cove Inn, with her daughters as a trio. But from the moment her birthday party began she was astonished at their talent.

Such a credit to her, the guests said.

“Oh, well, your birthday comes only once a year, and my girls insisted on going all out for this party!” Sarah said, smiling graciously at each and every one of the wonderful people at her party.

Only that nosy art association president, Rose, had commented on her age. “Sixty-five, imagine that!” she’d said. “Did you ever think you’d get this old, back when you were their age?” She nodded toward Sarah’s daughters, who were, thankfully, out of earshot.

Sarah laughed and lowered her voice, pretending to be conspiratorial. “What can you do? Age is just a number. You’re as young as you feel. How young do you feel, Rose? You don’t look a day over sixty! You must take marvelous care of your skin.”

Elly had transformed the dining room into a Paris bistro, with cafés overlooking a street! Anne did a marvelous job singing and dancing to “I Got Rhythm” with Kennedy, and all the girls got together and did “’S Wonderful.” How cute they looked in those oversize suits! Elly’s voice, especially, was as clear and perfectly pitched as ever. Sarah clapped her hands delightedly after each song.

Dinner, too, was a treat. Roast lamb with mint sauce, mashed potatoes, green beans. All her favorites, and perfectly prepared. And the cake! Anne had baked it herself: a cake in the shape of the Eiffel Tower! Everyone cheered when the cake was brought out on a wheeled cart, as well they should. Her daughter was a master pastry chef!

Sarah made a wish—she’d never tell what it was—and blew out the candles. The effort left her exhausted, but the applause was worth it. Then she ate her piece and a few bites of Gil’s, too. The girls had looked surprised to see him—he wasn’t on the original invitations mailed out, of course, because they’d done that before Sarah had known she wanted him to be included—but she’d gotten around that by saying he was Rhonda’s “plus one.”

Even Flossie behaved herself. She wore a clean pair of black trousers and a white blouse, with a green tweedy sort of vest that made her look like a leprechaun.

The band started after dinner. The lead singer was a friend of Rhonda’s, and someone—Elly? Laura?—must have told them to play Sarah’s old jazz favorites. Sarah tapped her foot as she watched Laura slip onto the dance floor with her new man, whose name Sarah had already forgotten. They seemed well matched. He wasn’t tall or especially handsome, but there was something solid and reassuring about him, and he made Laura smile.

Then Gil asked her to dance. Sarah very nearly said no, because who would think a man built like this one could be anything but bullish around a dance floor, as he was in life?

Besides, they were playing “I’ve Got the World on a String,” her absolute favorite song, and the first song she’d ever danced to with Neil. It would break her heart to dance to it with someone else.

It all came back to Sarah then, how Neil had taken her in his arms and moved her around the floor of this very dining room as smoothly as if they’d been dancing together all their lives, even though it was the first time they’d met. She’d sung this song to him from the stage after he’d helped her untangle a microphone cord, and he’d asked the band to play it again, just the instrumental, so he could sing it with her while they danced.

Suddenly, Sarah’s eyes were brimming with tears, and she didn’t have a tissue. She didn’t even know where her purse was!

Now she was in a panic, thinking of her makeup and of how awful it would be to snivel at her own wonderful party. The girls would be upset if she looked unhappy. She didn’t want to do that to them, not after all the trouble they’d gone to for her lately.

No, not just lately. Ever since they were children, her daughters had tried hard to please her. It was her turn to try to please them, for once.

So she smiled up at Gil, who had produced a handkerchief for her. Sarah wiped her eyes and said, “I think I’d like to dance after all,” and he led her away.

Everyone gathered around the dance floor to watch them, applauding as if she and Gil were young and in love, with their whole lives ahead of them. Sarah sang a little of the tune, making Gil say, “You sing like an angel,” and helping her remember that, with music, she could always say what she felt, even when the words failed her.