“Maybe,” Tammy answered. “We haven't really lived together since before college. You left sixteen years ago. I left eleven. Annie left eight years ago, and Candy was an only child after we left. This should be interesting,” Tammy said with a grin. “Maybe the reason we get along is because we don't live together. Did you ever think of that?”
“I think it's worth a try for Annie,” Sabrina said stubbornly. She had been trying to think of a way to help their sister without making her feel humiliated and dependent. This might do it. And she was willing to sacrifice a year of her life for her, and so was Candy. That was something, at least. And even Sabrina could see why Tammy didn't want to do it, and didn't hold it against her. She had an important job on the West Coast, and they couldn't expect her to jeopardize that. She had worked hard to get there, and Sabrina respected her for it, so she didn't push her. “I'll call a realtor tomorrow and see if she can come up with something that would make sense for the three of us. I don't make as much as Candy, and Annie is subsidized by Mom and Dad. Maybe Dad would pay her share of the rent here instead of Florence, although I'm sure that's a lot cheaper. But she'll really need his help now.” And they all knew he could afford it. And then Sabrina frowned. “That reminds me. I guess someone is going to have to go over and close her apartment. She's in no shape to do it.”
“What if she wants to stay in Italy?” Tammy asked.
“I guess she could try it in a year, if she can take care of herself, but not right away. She has a lot to learn first, about surviving as a blind person and living on her own. She's better off doing that with us, and then she can always go back later.”
“I could pick up her stuff the next time I'm in Europe,” Candy volunteered, which was a nice gesture although Tammy and Sabrina knew that she was the least organized of the sisters, and very young. The others were always helping her, but this might help her grow up. She made an incredible living as a supermodel, but she was still very immature. And she was only twenty-one. As far as they were concerned, she was a baby. But maybe she could handle closing the apartment in Florence. It was worth a shot. Neither Tammy nor Sabrina had time to do it, nor their father.
“Well, I have to admit, it's an intriguing idea,” Tammy said, smiling, feeling faintly guilty for not participating, but she just couldn't, and the others knew that. “And it might really help her. It might cheer her up.” They still had huge hurdles to overcome, telling Annie about their mother, her blindness, and all that that would mean to her, and even about Charlie, who was now history, just because she was blind. It all seemed so cruel, and if living with her sisters would help her for the first year, they all agreed that it was worth a try. They toasted each other with their father's vintage Bordeaux wine, and Chris joined them. Sabrina agreed to spearhead the project and keep them all informed as to what she found in the way of an apartment for them, or even a brownstone, if the rental price was right.
“You sure don't let the grass grow under your feet, do you?” Tammy said admiringly, looking at her older sister. “I've been trying to think of what I can do for her too, but I don't think she'd be happy in L.A.”
“Neither do I,” Sabrina agreed. “Now all we have to do is sell it to her.” They had no idea how Annie would react. She had so much to adjust to in the coming days, it was staggering to think about.
“To sisters,” Sabrina said, raising her glass again.
“To the most interesting women I've ever known,” Chris added.
“To Mom,” Candy said softly, and they were all silent for a long moment and took a long sip from their glasses.
Chapter 9
They didn't wait to see the box lowered into the ground. Sabrina and Tammy had agreed at the funeral parlor that no one could have tolerated the agony of it, and when they checked with him, their father had agreed.
The priest made a point of saying during the brief ceremony that they had something to celebrate now, the survival and hopefully full recovery soon of their daughter and sister Anne, who had been spared the same fate as her mother during the accident on the Fourth of July. The priest had no idea that Annie was now blind, nor did anyone else. People would become aware of it gradually later when they saw her, but the family was keeping it quiet for now. It still felt like a very private, painful thing, for them, and above all for Annie herself, once she found out. They had no idea when they were going to tell her, and wanted to discuss it with her doctors first. Sabrina was afraid of telling her too soon, and having her get severely depressed, on the heels of their mother's death, but she knew they couldn't wait too long, and her bandages from the surgery were due to come off by the end of the week. There would be no way of keeping it from her then. And their father still insisted the diagnosis they'd made was wrong. It was inconceivable to him that one of his beautiful daughters was now blind. In the past five days everything had gone so wrong. Their family, which had never been touched by tragedy before, had been dealt a double blow, which had staggered them all.
As each of her daughters left her mother's graveside, she dropped a long-stemmed white rose next to the wooden box that contained her ashes, sitting on a stand. Their father felt each gesture like a blow. He stood alone next to the graveside for a long time, and his daughters respectfully left him there, and then finally Sabrina walked back to him, and tucked her hand into his arm.
“Come on, Daddy, let's go home.”
“I can't just leave her here like this, Sabrina,” he said as tears rolled down his cheeks. “How could this happen? We all loved her so much.”
“Yes, we did,” his daughter said, brushing away tears of her own. They were all dressed in somber black, and looked elegant and dignified. They had always been a beautiful family, and now, even without her, they still were. People who saw them were always struck by how handsome they were. And Jane had been Jim's bright, shining star. He couldn't bring himself to believe that she was gone. “Maybe it's better like this,” Sabrina said softly, as he continued to stand there, staring at the box where her ashes were. “Now she'll never get sick or old. She didn't suffer. She lived to see all her children grow up. You'll always remember her still beautiful and young.” She had hardly ever changed. Her beauty was timeless, and she exuded warmth, energy, and youth. She had been a dazzling woman right till the end. They would always think of her that way. Their mother had had enormous grace. He nodded at what his daughter had just said, without saying a word in response. He took one of the long-stemmed white roses and laid it on top of the box with the others, and then he took a second one, held it in his hand, and walked away with his head down. The past few days had been the hardest of his life, as his children knew only too well. He looked as though he had aged a decade in five days.
Her father got into the limousine without comment and sat next to Sabrina. He sat staring out the window on the way home. Tammy was in the car with them as well. Chris and Candy were riding in the second limousine. They had kept the interment private, and all three daughters were relieved that the painful rituals associated with their mother's passing had come to an end. It had been a rigorous three days, between visitation, funeral, hundreds of guests at the house afterward, and now this last poignant event, leaving her in the place of her final rest. They had talked about keeping her ashes at home, but Sabrina and Tammy had decided that it would be too hard for them, and especially for their father. It was better to leave the discreet wooden box at the cemetery. Sabrina had a sense that her mother would have preferred it that way. Since she had left no directions about funeral arrangements, they had had to guess all along the way, and they had consulted their father about each minute detail. He just wanted the nightmare to end, and for her to come back to them. Sabrina had a strong sense that the reality of it hadn't sunk in yet for any of them. She had been gone for only these few days, as though she had gone away for the long weekend and might still return.
Sabrina knew they had to concentrate on Annie now, her full recovery from the brain surgery, and her adjustment to a whole new, challenging life now that she was blind. They hadn't even begun to travel that road with her yet, and she was fully expecting the transition from artist to woman who no longer had sight to take a long time. This was no small cross for her to bear.
