Club Sandwich (26 page)

Now these kids know how to trick-or-treat. “Good job!” I distribute the goods.

Rusty’s dad, chaperone extraordinaire, smiles. “Haven’t done trick-or-treating in years!”

I love Reuben. Plainly, Rusty inherited his charisma from his dad.

I step clear of the doorway. “Enjoy yourself, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Want a cup of tea?”

“No thanks. Set up my coffee maker downstairs before I left.”

Reuben’s a coffee hound. I don’t know how the man sleeps. Judging by the huge box of books he brought with him, I have a feeling he doesn’t much. Oh, but the conversations we’ve always enjoyed, he and I, on such a variety of issues!

Reuben actually reads my column.

Lyra plops down on the sofa five minutes later, arms full of books, legs swimming in pajamas befitting Henry VIII. “Man, this new school is tough.”

“It’s a good school, Lyr.”

“Yeah. But all these papers!”

“You can handle it, kiddo.” Harry. I have to hand it to him; he’s a lot more encouraging than he used to be. “Thanks, Gramps.”

She opens a volume of Shakespeare and sets to work. I admire her so much.

“Harry, how about a fire? You up to starting one?”

“Sure, Ive.”

“I’ll make us some tea.”

The kitchen sits dark and clean. Only the hood light over the stove illumines the countertops. I turn on the burner and begin filling the kettle. Contentment warms this moment. The first newsletter will be mailed out tomorrow, and women will find jobs. My sweet daughter is getting a good education, and Harry stopped his prowling. For now.

“I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content,” Paul wrote millennia ago, and I think, right now, I finally understand the meaning of the passage.

Mitch calls at ten. “Hey friend.”

“Hi Mitch.”

“Everything ready for tomorrow?”

“Yep. Went to the printer and picked them up yesterday. We’ll head down to the post office tomorrow, and out they’ll go.”

“Got the copy you couriered over. Looks great. You really know
what you’re doing. Oh, and I found a good Web designer. We’ll be online by the new year.”

“Great.”

“So how you doing?”

“Actually, not too bad. Harry’s got a fire going, we’re watching the news, and all is right with the world.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

“How about you?”

“Same as always.”

“So how about you?”

He chuckles. “You’re not going to let me get away with that, are you?”

“Darn straight.”

He sighs. “I’m a little lonely, I admit. I came back to Baltimore hoping to renew old ties, and of course, everyone’s busy with their lives.”

“You know you can always come over here and hang out. Heaven knows we’ve got enough people to keep you company.”

“Do you know how blessed you are?”

“I sure do.”

We end the conversation, and I know that I lied. I stopped counting my blessings months ago, and isn’t that a shame? But I can’t appear needy to Mitch. Because if he picks up on it and offers more than a hand, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Trixie crawls into bed with me, her feet like winter. “Cold, Mama.”

She snuggles into me, and I breathe in her scent. Oh, my sweet baby. And we fall back asleep. Just like that.

Brian’s voice quivers with panic. “Get down to the restaurant, Ivy! The kitchen is flooded. Mom left her bathtub faucet running upstairs all night.”

“Where is she?”

“In the dining room. Crying.”

I run in ten minutes later and fold her into my arms.

“I had no idea, Ivy. How could I have done something so stupid?”

“It’s not your fault, Mom.”

We’ve all got to face facts now.

Man, I hate these family meetings. It’s wrong sitting with Brian and Brett, Mom absent, while here in the bistro dining room we discuss her future. Workmen tear out the ruined carpet near the kitchen.

“If we put her into assisted living, we’ll have to sell the bistro.” Brian. “Her name is still on the deed with ours.”

I shake my head. “That’s not an option.”

Brett. “I certainly have the space, but we’re never home. Having a nurse come out means the same thing. There’s no way she can afford that.”

Even though Brett’s sold her shop, she’s still out and about all day long. Charity work now. Brett just can’t slow down. She wouldn’t be Brett if she could, I guess.

“We’re chock-full here,” I say.

My brother and sister both look at me.

“Maybe your new job is a godsend, Ivy. Did you think of
that?” Brett. “You’re home all day. And Reuben’s there quite a bit now too, right?”

I stare, undecided whether fear or anger is the appropriate response to that observation.

They stare back.

“Where do I have the space, guys? Trixie and Lyra share a room as it is.”

Brian twiddles a napkin. Brett pretends to pick at a fingernail.

Man.

Still, I’m going to make them work for it. I can keep my mouth shut too.

Finally, Brett. “Didn’t you put her in the dining room when she was recuperating from hip surgery?”

“You know I did.”

“Well?”

I decide. Anger. “So what you’re saying, Brett, is that you have a freaking six-thousand-square-foot home with three empty bedrooms, and I have to lose my dining room? My fifteen-hundred-square-foot ramshackle house filled with six people—seven when Rusty’s home—is the answer? Come on!”

Her lips tighten. “I can’t commit to this, Ivy.”

“You
won’t
,” I turn to my brother. “And you won’t either, right?”

“I just have a little apartment, Ive.”

“How about when the work is done on the restaurant and Mom’s apartment? Why don’t you move in then?”

“Ivy! I can’t do that. I do have a life, you know. I’m not what’s best for Mom anyway. You know that.”

“Can’t you rise to the occasion, Bri? At least try? It’s all I can do to hold things together as it is.”

“No, I just can’t. It’s beyond me.”

“What if
I
say it’s beyond
me
, guys?”

Brett slams a fist on the table. “Oh, all right. Let’s just put her in a home, and I’ll pay for it! But is that what’s best for Mom?”

Of course it isn’t. She’s not that far gone yet, and those homes are so sad. I can’t picture her sitting next to babbling, demented people. It would break her heart.

But still. Brett’s really being horrible.

I breathe deeply. It’s up to me. It’s got to be up to me.

Maybe Brenda’s Club Sandwich idea was a good one after all. My thoughts flit for a split second to Debbie and Dani. I’m going to call them tomorrow and see if they’ll join.

“Okay, I’ll do the dining room over. But listen, you guys have
got
to take her off my hands sometimes. I can’t bear all the responsibility. You both have cars. You’ll have to help take her out for her shopping and prescriptions and doctor appointments and all.”

Brett reddens. “Of course we’ll help! You don’t think we won’t pull our weight, do you?”

No, I don’t. But I say, “I sure hope it won’t be the case.”

Brian grabs my hand and squeezes. “You’re the best, Ive. You really are. And, Brett, isn’t it true? Ivy definitely has the best personality to handle this sort of thing. She’s more caring and compassionate.”

I can see Brett wants to contradict, but she realizes it would be against her best interest. She clamps her lips together and nods.

I want to tell them they’ll owe me big time, but there are only two people I’m doing this for. Mom and Jesus. That’s it.

Mitch and I meet for another late-night Starbucks conference. Still in his car when I pull up, he quickly hops out at the sight of me and opens my door.

Any idiot could see I’ve been crying all afternoon, and Mitch is no idiot.

“Oh Ive! What’s the matter?”

The fountains of the deep bubble up once more. He crouches down on his haunches, reaches into the car, and takes me into his arms. And as I cry, feeling my life slip-sliding into a tailspin, he strokes my messy hair and mutters softly.

“It’s okay, Ive, it’s okay. Sh, baby. Everything’s going to be okay.”

L
ou stands in my living room. “That berry with the white woodwork is perfect. See, Ive-O? I told you to trust me.”

“I still love it.”

“We’ll have the dining room looking like a bedroom in no time. Your mom’s furniture is great. I’m thinking a nice plum in there.”

“Nope, she hates dark colors.”

“Hold on.” She takes her paint chips and heads into the kitchen where Mom’s sitting. I hear muffled conversation. Mom’s always loved Lou.

She emerges. “How about a warmish lavender?” she asks.

“Whatever Mom wants. Can we install doors?”

“Sure. Will Harry do it, you think?”

“He’ll have to. Mom will have a fit if she finds out, but I can’t afford to hire somebody.”

“How about your sister? She offer to help with the change?”

I cross my arms.

“I didn’t think so. When are the others getting here?”

I look at the wall clock. “In ten minutes. I thought Brenda would be here by now.”

“She’s in Mexico! I forgot to tell you! They’re breaking ground this week.”

Very cool.

“Then let’s get started as soon as they come.”

Club Sandwich, here we come.