Club Sandwich (22 page)

Brett lets us in. She pads around wearing a pair of fluffy slippers. A robe cinches her waist. Still depressed, I bet. Brett’s usually up and dressed by seven, and it’s past ten.

The foyer of her home reminds me of something out of a movie. It’s probably bigger than my living room and dining room put together. My entire downstairs, for that matter. Staircases curve up either side, and a chandelier from some Austrian crystal company dangles overhead. Marble, parquet floors, wainscoting, molding, tapestries.

“I’ve got
The Little Mermaid
ready to go for Trixie.” Brett leans down and hoists her onto her hip. Man, she loves my kids. “Want
to come back to the movie theater with Aunt Brett? I even made you some popcorn!”

“Popcorn!” Trixie yells, and Brett winces at the volume. The child is louder than Harry’s old ties.

She heads back to the living quarters and says over her shoulder, “Coffee’s on in the kitchen, Ivy. I’ll be right in. Persy, you want to watch a movie or do the game system in the family room?”

“Video games, Aunt Brett!”

“All right!”

I have to admit she could teach me a thing or two on the art of being an aunt.

I clog back to the kitchen. Restaurant-quality everything, and I should know. Pouring a mug of coffee, I realize she’s done the necessary in this whole Marcus situation. And in that, we’re exactly alike.

“Thanks for letting us come over.”

“I wish you’d come over more.”

“Really?”

“Are you kidding? Let me pour some coffee, and we can go out to the breakfast room. Want to put in a CD on the system? I need something soothing.”

“Sure.” A nearby walk-in closet houses the sound system, the security system, and countless other who-knows-what systems. Maybe lighting? Indoor sprinklers? Lawn watering? Pool cleaning?

Black equipment stacked on racks winks green and red lights at me as I stand before a wall of CDs. Okay, soothing. Wow—a large collection of praise-and-worship music. Well, good. I thought Brett stopped caring about religion years ago.
Praise Strings
. An oldie goldie and definitely soothing. I choose
Praise Strings III
.

Now, finding the right apparatus.

I commence the great scan. Okay, certainly it would say
CD Player
on it, right? So, I begin up in the right-hand corner. Nope, nope, nope. My eyes lower. Nope. Nope.

Ah, there. I hope. Dear Lord, don’t let me unwittingly summon the police and fire department curbside.

Thank heavens the music begins only a few seconds after I load the player.

I inhabit another world in this place. I have to face that. And I have to at least be happy for Brett. She had enough to deal with growing up. At least I had the cool factor going for me back then. She got made fun of all the time.

Brett’s breakfast room is easily my favorite room in her home. So feminine and inviting. The table sits lower than normal, the chairs more like lounge chairs, comfy with lots of cushions and throws. Sunlight flows in, illumining the red-and-yellow upholstery. Lots of bamboo, floral, and striped patterns. “It’s so pretty in here.”

“I love this room. Did you know I did this myself, Ivy? I didn’t let the decorator touch this room.”

“It’s my favorite.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

I set down my coffee and sink into a chair. “Music okay?”

“Perfect.”

“So tell me what’s going on with you.”

“The girls go back to school next week.”

“Where are they?”

“Still asleep. Big night last night with friends.” Her brows furrow, then clear. “Anyway, Marcus has been home every day by six. I’m thinking about selling the shop.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe I need to devote more time to him. I’m usually gone three nights a week down there.”

“I wouldn’t argue against it.” And I wouldn’t. Maybe the reason she’s never made a marriage work is because the shop continually wears on her. I mean, it seems glamorous, all the buying trips and window decorating, but it’s hard work. I can’t ever call my sister lazy, that’s for sure. We know how to work hard, us Starling children.

“Really? I thought you’d think it was a bad idea.”

“Nope.” Maybe she’ll spend more time with Mom.

“How about you? What’s going on with you?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted you to hear this from me first.”

“Sounds scary. You and Rusty okay?”

“How can we be anything but, when he’s never around?”

“I don’t know how you stand it.”

Should I confide? She is my big sister. “Sometimes I can’t, Brett. Sometimes I just want to break down and scream. Sometimes I do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, that’s just the way it is. Would it be wrong of me to insist he come home?”

“With all you’re going through? No way. You’re not a wife to Rusty, you’re a support system.”

“I couldn’t have said that better myself. Well, anyway, I’m thinking about telling him that. He did get a raise, though. Now we can afford to send Lyra to IND.”

“Notre Dame? She got accepted?”

“Yep.” I am proud right now. I really am. “Got a bit of a scholarship, too.”

“That’s my girl. I want to buy her uniforms.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Can we do a day of shopping together? Just her and me?”

“She’d love it.”

“We’ll go to the salon, too.” A smidge of color returns to her cheeks. “So, what is it you have to tell me?”

“Well, Harry’s moving in with us tomorrow.”

“What?!”

“Into the basement.”

“Mom’ll flip.”

“I told him she can’t find out.”

Brett begins to chuckle. “This is going to be funny.”

“Yeah. Har-har.”

She places her hand on mine. “You’re a better woman than I am, Ivy.”

“No.”

“Really, you are. As soon as I sell the shop I’ll get more involved. I promise. Maybe I can take Mom a weekend here and there too.”

“I’d appreciate that.” If I make too big a deal of it, I might scare her off. “So … show me those pictures from your trip with Marcus.”

“Okay!” She’s trying to sound excited, I think. But it’s not fooling me. And she starts in on another vein of conversation.

The Little Mermaid
ends, and we leave without viewing a single snapshot.

“What’s that banging going on in the basement?” Mom stands at the stove grilling sausages.

“I’ve got a guy coming in to do some work down there.”

“Why?”

“It’s nasty. Maybe we could rent it out. Make some extra money. With Lyra going to private school and all.”

She turns back to her task.

Well, it’s true. Harry
is
a guy, right?

Lou and Brenda enter with paint cans, brushes, stirring sticks, tarps, rollers, and a general bustle of female goodwill.

Lou raises her hands. “Okay, this is it. Time to paint that living room! Brushes for all!”

They finished the kitchen last week. Harry’s living with my flags.

“Even Trixie?” I smirk.

Brenda removes her blousy shirt to reveal a pair of paint-splattered overalls. “Of course. She can paint designs on the wall and we’ll just roll over them. Think how much fun that will be for her.”

Lou releases her load with a
plop
. “Persy, too. That boy’s got an artistic flair for sure.”

He’ll probably draw trepanned skulls. Or Sonic the Hedgehog. Or a trepanned Sonic.

“How long do you think this will take?”

“With all of us? Three hours.”

“Good. Brett’s taking Mom out for lunch. They’ll be back around three.”

“Let’s get started then.” Brenda.

We all change into our scrubby clothes, congregate the furniture and pictures in the center of the room, and spread out the tarps.
Trixie and Persy go to work, and the pictures they paint are so adorable, painting over them is much like cutting into a pretty cake. We hate to spoil it.

Lyra paints the woodwork with a pristine, glossy white enamel. The effect of her painstaking efforts is sheer magic. The once drab, off-white space jumps into significance. The berry shade warms the room, and the couch springs into action, so to speak.

When all is back in place, I view the scene. Wow, this is
my
living room. “I love this, guys!”

“Naturally.” Lou. “Would we steer you wrong, Ive-O?”

“Absolutely not.”

Brenda heads toward the door. “Hang on, I’ve brought some stuff from the house, but I’ve got to get something in particular. You’ll love it.”

Two minutes later she reenters with a large wreath, burgeoning with color and texture, coordinating perfectly with the décor. “For over the fireplace.”

Lou nods. I smile. And Lyra proclaims it all “Perfect!”

Lou, Brenda, and I sit out on the front porch, hot chocolate in hands. “So how’s it going, Bren?”

“Sold the house. The market served us well. We’ll be able to build the orphanage with the proceeds. The rest of our investments will fund the staffing and the running of the place.”

Unbelievable.

“I think this is amazing.”

“Me too, Bren.” Lou.

Brenda takes a sip. “I think I’ve found a really cute little house in Lutherville. But Lou, I’m going to need your input. The kitchen needs to be redone.”

“You got it, babe.”

I really respect Brenda for laying it all down at the feet of Jesus.

“Please, hon, it’s just temporary.”

I squeeze the phone. “Rusty! How can you even ask this? Mom’s still in the dining room as it is. Harry’s sequestered downstairs. Where in the world am I going to put your father?”

Yes, Barnum and Bailey could do no better than this house on Allegheny Avenue. Step right up, folks! See the collection of crazy people assembled from the four corners of Baltimore for your entertainment!

“He can sleep on the bottom bunk of Persy’s room.”

“Persy hates the top bunk, Rust. It scares him.”

Reuben Schneider’s house sold more quickly than anybody expected. His condo at the retirement village won’t be ready for six months, unless somebody there dies, and I refuse to wish that. I couldn’t handle the guilt.

How did this happen? They talk about slippery slopes. Well, sister, buckle your seat belt and hop in for the ride, because we’re going downhill and fast.