Folly Cove (21 page)

“Aren't I an animal, too?” Sarah had demanded in response. “If a lion could eat me or wear my skin and stay warm in a New England winter, I'm sure he would do it. I'm just lucky to be the real queen of the jungle.”

“Goodness,” Sarah said now. “You look like you were asleep. Were you?”

“Yes.”

“It's not even ten o'clock!” She peered around Elly's shoulder. “Where's that baby?”

“She's sleeping, too, Mom.”

“Well.” Sarah looked distressed, her face cratered in shadows. “I thought I should come by with her baby gift. I meant to bring it sooner, you know. But I suppose Lucy can open it tomorrow. Just make sure she knows it's from me.”

Like Lucy would know the difference,
Anne thought as her mother thrust a heavy box wrapped in flowered paper into her hands. Like she'd even be able to open this. Besides, the baby would probably be more interested in the wrapping paper than in whatever was inside the box. But she smiled and nodded. At least her mother was making a token gesture of acceptance.

“Thanks, Mom. Do you want to come in for a minute?” she added with a yawn.

“No, no. I don't want to bother you,” Sarah said, but stood there until Anne repeated the invitation.

Her mother nodded then. “Well, if you insist.” She stepped into the room, shrugging the mink coat off her shoulders as if a butler were waiting to take it from her.

Anne scooped up the coat before it hit the floor and draped it over a chair. She wasn't a vegan anymore, or even a vegetarian—pregnancy had caused her to crave meat—but she still hated the idea of fur coats. Even so, she had to admit this one was beautiful, a velvety buff color with darker stripes.

“It feels heavy. What is it?” Anne set the gift down on the narrow kitchen counter.

Her mother waved a hand. “A silver cup, bowl, and spoon. Every baby should have an heirloom set. You had one. I still have it in my hutch. I'll give it to you when you're settled somewhere more permanent.”

Anne smiled. “That would be great. Thanks for the gift, Mom. That was nice of you.” A set of silver baby dishes must have cost her mother several hundred dollars. What had prompted her to buy it?

“So where does the child sleep?” Sarah asked, looking around. “With you?”

“Yes. I brought a portable crib.”

“Where is she? I'd like to see my granddaughter.”

Anne gestured with her chin toward the bedroom. “She's sleeping, Mom. It's not a good time.”

“I know how to be quiet. For heaven's sake, Anne! You act like I've never been around a baby!” Sarah crossed the room on high heels that sounded like gunshots on the wood floors.

“Can you at least tiptoe?” Anne whispered, following her mother. “I just put her down a little while ago. She's not a great sleeper.”

“Serves you right. You never slept, either.”

Anne stood in the doorway and watched as Sarah bent over the portable crib, close enough that her exhaled breath ruffled Lucy's curls. Lucy slept on, oblivious, in her usual humpbacked pose.

“I always put her on her back, like the doctor said to, but she just flips over,” Anne whispered.

“She's as stubborn as you are,” Sarah whispered back. “I remember you sleeping in that exact turtle position. What am I smelling? Garlic?”

“Probably. I made pesto for lunch.”

“Sounds like work. Did you have company?”

Her mother had probably seen the dishes in the drainer. “Yes. Hattie and her family,” Anne said, suddenly defensive. She didn't want her mother to know that Sebastian had been here, too, or that he stopped by every day.

It had been eight days since her fall, but Sebastian still brought her food sometimes. Wine, too, despite the fact that she had ordered him to stop worrying about her. To prove she was fine, and to thank him for looking after her, she'd invited him to lunch today. To make things less awkward, she'd also invited Hattie—now back from her sister's wedding—as well as Hattie's husband and four children. They'd all hit it off, talking about books, politics, and the occasional movie, though Anne and Sebastian hadn't seen any movies recently.

At one point, Sebastian said, “We need to get out more,” making Anne laugh and point to the baby. “I'm hardly in a position to go to the movies,” she'd said, though she'd felt a little thrill at the word “we.”

Not that Sebastian had meant anything by it. He avoided touching her and seldom looked her in the eye. He was always busy fixing things in the cottage: a loose baseboard, a lamp that didn't work, a cupboard with a missing hinge.

Sarah was saying something so odd that it made Anne wonder whether she'd misheard. “Mom, what did you just say?” she asked.

“That I shouldn't have had so many children. Seeing Lucy makes me remember how overwhelmed I was when you were born. But your
father always wanted one more. Even after you, he wanted more. So stubborn!”

“Which of us wouldn't you have had, if you could turn back the clock?” Anne teased.

Her mother frowned. “You, I suppose.”

Anne felt like someone had punched her in the throat. She went to the couch and sat down. “Gee, thanks.”

Her mother followed and perched on the other end of the couch, where Elly had been sitting earlier tonight. Both Sarah and Elly were built like greyhounds. Their faces were all sharp angles, their hair was gold and straight, and they had broad mouths and tidy ears. They were elegant, royal-looking women. The difference was that Elly was quick to smile and laugh, while Sarah was always the first to judge.

“You look upset,” Sarah said. “I'm sorry. But you did ask.”

“I did,” Anne said.

“I'm not saying I don't love you.”

“Right. I know, Mom. It's fine.” Anne wondered what she could do to make her mother leave.

“You're not listening to me.” Sarah reached over to take one of Anne's hands.

“I
am
listening, Mom.” Anne removed her hand and made a show of fiddling with the hairband on the table, slipping it onto her head and smoothing her hair behind her ears. “I'm just not sure I want to hear anything you have to say.”

“I never hated you.”

“Oh. I feel so much better now!”

Sarah waved a hand impatiently. “This is coming out all wrong. I need to tell you this in my own way. Stop asking questions.”

“I only asked one.”

Sarah took a deep breath, then said, “Look. The truth is, I married your father because I was dizzy with love. I gave up my singing career for him because Neil wasn't like any man I'd ever met. He was smart and funny and good-looking. He swept me off my feet.”

How odd, Anne thought, that when Elly had been sitting there, she had talked about how crazy she'd felt about Hans. Maybe this was
the genetic curse of all Bradford women: they ripped their hearts out of their chests and handed them over to men, trusting them to care for them. Hadn't she done the same with Colin? And Laura with Jake?

Anne closed her eyes briefly, trying to picture her father's face. She couldn't. But she could feel the scratch of his stubble on her cheek as he bent down to kiss her good night and sometimes heard his deep, rumbling voice in her head.
Night-night, Anna Banana
.
Don't let the bedbugs bite.

“Your father and I had a wonderful honeymoon in Florida, and then we came back to the inn and started working so hard that we waited five years to have Laura,” Sarah was saying. “That was still an incredible time for us. Your father was devoted to Laura. Well, she was just like him. Athletic and so smart.” She smiled. “Once, Neil thanked me for giving him the son he always wanted.”

Anne felt a prickle of sympathy for Laura, having to live up to
that
. No wonder she'd spent all her time in horse barns.

“Then Elizabeth came along two years later,” her mother continued. “By then things were even more difficult. We thought we might be all right after Grandpa Bradford died, but his unfortunate habits left your father and me even deeper in dept.”

“Grandpa's gambling, you mean.”

If her mother was surprised that Anne would come right out and say this, she didn't show it. “Yes. That man loved betting on anything: the horses at Suffolk Downs. The dogs at Wonderland. Poker. Your father wanted to sell Folly Cove to cover Grandpa's debts, but I wouldn't allow it. I just dug in. Luckily, Elizabeth was easy. Always happy. And so pretty.” Her mother smiled. “Talented, too. The best singer of you all. So much like me!”

“And so modest, like you?”

Her mother didn't seem to hear this. “Even with our money troubles, Neil and I were still so in love. We had our family. He had his daughter and I had mine. I thought we should stop there.”

“But you didn't.”

“I meant to.” Sarah pursed her lips at Anne. “However, like you, I didn't take the necessary precautions to prevent an accident.” She jerked
a thumb over her shoulder toward the bedroom. “I wanted to get my tubes tied, but of course that would have been expensive. A major surgery. And your father refused to have a vasectomy. Like most men, he's a medical coward.”

“Mom!” Anne held up a hand to stop her. “It doesn't seem right for you to say things about Dad when he's not here to defend himself. And please don't call Lucy an ‘accident.' She's the best thing I've ever done in my life!”

“I'm only stating facts. Anyway, between you being such an active baby and how hard I was struggling to keep the inn going, I was exhausted. Flossie had to step in to help. Your aunt adored you. At the time I was glad. Now I don't know.”

Anne was confused. Why was her mother telling her all this? Sarah was usually of the pressed-lips Yankee School of Communication. What had caused these confessional floodgates to open?

“What do you mean, you don't know if you're glad that Flossie adored me?” At least somebody did, Anne thought.

Sarah cocked her head at Anne. “The thing is, I never really felt like you were mine. You belonged to everyone but me: to your father, your aunt, your sisters. And then, well.” She shrugged. “Your father started drinking a few years later and running around, so I kicked him out. That left it up to me to provide for this family. To keep everything going. Luckily, by then Laura was old enough to watch you whenever Flossie couldn't. You never needed me.”

“Of course I did! You were still my mom,” Anne said, her throat tight with resentment.

“I still
am
your mother!” Sarah said. “That's why I've decided to give you a gift, too.”

“I don't need any gifts.”

“Yes, you do. I want you to move out of this dingy cottage.”

Anne laughed, startled. “And do what? Move in with you?”

“No, no. Of course not. I love you, but I've already told you I can't have a baby disrupting my routines. I'm too old for that. Sixty-five next month! Can you believe it? Of course, my friends say I hardly look older than you girls.” Sarah smiled, no doubt hearing these imaginary
friends. “Anyway, I found you the most darling little apartment. With an ocean view! That's my gift to you.”

“I already have an ocean view.” Anne pointed to the porch.

“Yes, but you can't stay here forever. It's going to be winter soon. These walls aren't insulated. Think of the baby.” Her mother reached into the pocket of her blazer, pulled out a folded sheet of newspaper, and handed it to Anne.

It was a classified ad for an apartment in Rockport: ground floor, water view, small yard, near the train station. For an astonishing amount of money. Anne handed the paper back. “This looks nice, but I can't afford it.”

“Don't worry about that. I'll pay your rent.”

“Why would you do that? Flossie's letting me live here for free. Is it because you're ashamed of me? You can't stand having your wayward daughter on the property?”

“Why would you say that? Of course not!”

“I don't know, Mom. You made it pretty clear that I should tell people I'm getting divorced.”

Sarah waved a hand. “That doesn't mean I'm ashamed of you. Only protecting your reputation.”

“And the family's,” Anne added.

“Of course.”

“Well, either way, I can't take your money.”

“Why not? I give your sisters money.”

“You do?” This conversation was getting stranger by the minute.

“Of course. Who do you think helped Laura buy the stables and that house they're in? I pay for Kennedy's tuition, too. And I've been giving Elizabeth a little stipend to help her get established in her singing career.”

What singing career?
Anne nearly said, but that was beside the point. “Why would you give Laura money? She has a business. So does her husband.”

Sarah shrugged. “Yes, but somehow they're still struggling. She asks me for help every now and then. I'm happy to do what I can.”

Anne couldn't believe this. How could Laura bear to put her hand out for their mother's money? “What about Elly? Does she ask for help, too?”

Her mother shook her head. “I offered. I know what it's like to be a struggling artist.”

And yet Sarah hadn't offered Anne a dime. She felt a coil of anger, hot in her belly.

Not that she would have taken her mother's money.

Sarah was explaining how she was prepared to give Anne first and last months' rent and a security deposit. “After that, I'll pay your rent for one year. By then you should be on your feet.”

“But why, Mom?” Anne said. “I still don't understand. Why do you want me to move out, when I'm perfectly fine here? Anyway, I won't take your money.”

Her mother laughed a bizarre little “he-he-he.” “Why not? You'll have to eventually. When I go, Folly Cove will be yours. Yours and your sisters'. You can all live in splendor then. Meanwhile, it isn't right, you living off your aunt. Especially not in this dreadful little house!” She wrinkled her nose. “It smells damp. I'm sure there's mold. And mold isn't good for babies.”