Chương 4
Half a loaf of bread.
No groceries.
Ruth thought of the bags sitting on Jenna’s granite island.
“Well,” she told Murphy, “that was poor planning.”
She made toast.
Her phone rang.
Carol.
Ruth answered.
“You alive?” Carol said.
“Apparently.”
“You sound strange.”
“I moved.”
Silence.
Then, “What?”
“I moved.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“To where?”
“A house.”
Another silence.
Ruth put butter on her toast.
Carol had been her closest friend for twenty-two years, which meant she knew the difference between Ruth being concise and Ruth being in trouble.
“Address.”
Ruth gave it to her.
“I’m coming over.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I have no food.”
“I’m not coming for lunch.”
The line disconnected.
Ruth looked at the phone.
“Some people age into bossiness.”
Murphy’s eyes remained closed.
Carol arrived forty minutes later carrying a grocery-store rotisserie chicken, a bag of salad, two tomatoes, a loaf of sourdough, and a six-pack of root beer.
She stood on the porch staring at the cottage.
“Well.”
Ruth opened the door.
“Well what?”
“You bought a whole house.”
“That was generally the idea.”
Carol walked inside.
She was seventy, six feet tall in sneakers, with cropped white hair and the posture of a retired high-school principal, which she was.
She set the food on the counter.
“You bought a house and told nobody.”
“I told Patricia.”
“Who’s Patricia?”
“My agent.”
Carol stared at her.
Ruth opened the root beer.
“Jenna told me my money stays in their house or I don’t.”
Carol pulled out a chair.
“She said that?”
“This morning.”
“And Brian?”
Ruth took a drink.
Carol’s expression changed before Ruth answered.
“Oh, Ruth.”
“He told me to give her what she wanted.”
Carol sat back.
For perhaps thirty seconds neither woman said anything.
A lawn mower started somewhere beyond the backyard.
Murphy snored.
Carol picked at the corner of the grocery receipt from the food she had brought.
“When did you decide?”
Ruth told her.
Not all at once.
The mug.
The bills.
The bank password.
The comments.
The way Jenna had started saying “our expenses” while referring to Ruth’s money and “our house” while referring to the room Ruth occupied.
Carol listened without interrupting until Ruth reached the part about the brass key.
Then she smiled.
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“You put it right next to their house key?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Henry would have loved that.”
Ruth’s smile vanished.
Carol immediately looked down.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
“I shouldn’t—”
“No. He would have.”
They sat with that.
Ruth opened the salad container.
Carol looked around the kitchen.
“These cabinets are terrible.”
“I like them.”
“They look like mustard.”
“I know.”
“Henry would’ve painted them in twenty minutes.”
“He would’ve complained for three weeks first.”
Carol laughed.
Ruth did too.
It hurt.
That evening Brian came alone.
Ruth had not given him the address.
He found it anyway.
When she saw his car outside, irritation came first.
Then she remembered her location sharing.
Months before, after Ruth had gotten turned around driving home from a doctor’s appointment, Brian had helped her enable family location sharing on her phone.
She had forgotten.
She disabled it before opening the door.
Brian stood on the porch holding a cardboard box.
“What’s that?”
“Your stuff.”
Ruth looked at the box.
On top lay the Orioles mug.
She stared.
Brian swallowed.
“I took it out of the cabinet in the garage. Jenna hadn’t actually thrown it out again.”
Ruth lifted her eyes.
“Again?”
He grimaced.
“She found it after you washed it. She put it in a donate box.”
Ruth took the cardboard box.
The mug had a new chip.
She touched it.
“Can I come in?”
Ruth hesitated.
That wounded him.
She let him in anyway.
Brian stepped into the living room and looked around.
There was not much to see.
He walked to the window.
“This is nice.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I mean it.”
“You hate old houses.”
“I don’t hate them.”
“You once described plaster walls as a personal attack.”
His mouth twitched.
For half a second he almost smiled.
Then he looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
Ruth placed the box on the floor.
Murphy emerged from the hallway.
Brian crouched automatically.
“Hey, Murph.”
The beagle went to him.
Ruth hated that too.
Animals had no respect for emotional boundaries.
Brian rubbed Murphy’s ears.
“Jenna’s furious.”
“I assumed.”
“She thinks you were trying to humiliate her.”
“I was trying to leave.”
“You could’ve told us.”
Ruth folded her arms.
Brian saw it and stopped.
“Okay.”
He stood.
The room became uncomfortable.
Ruth did not rescue it.
Brian walked to the kitchen doorway.
“How much did this cost?”
“No.”
He turned.
“I’m not asking for—”
“I know what you’re asking.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. You want enough information to decide whether I’m making a mistake.”
“I’m your son.”
“That’s true.”
“So I worry.”
“That can also be true.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mom, this morning was bad.”
Ruth waited.
“Jenna shouldn’t have said it like that.”
There it was.
Ruth looked toward the window.
Brian noticed.
“What?”
“Like that.”
“What?”
“She shouldn’t have said it like that.”
He stared at her.
Ruth walked to the table and straightened a stack of unopened mail.
“You think the problem is how she phrased it.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I think the whole thing got out of hand.”
“Things do not get out of hand by themselves.”
“Fine. Jenna got upset.”
“And you?”
Brian looked tired.
“I was trying to keep things from exploding.”
Ruth nodded.
“That’s what you always say when you help the person holding the match.”
His face tightened.
“That’s not fair.”
“No?”
“You know what things have been like.”
“I know what things have been like for me.”
“Our mortgage went up. My commission structure changed. Jenna lost two clients. We’ve been under pressure.”
“I know.”
“And you had money sitting there.”
The sentence came out before he could stop it.
They both heard it.
May you like
Brian closed his eyes.
Ruth looked at him.
