“I didn’t want him to get lost,” Milo had said. “I’m a Scout, it’s my job to help.”
The cop had smiled a little bit at Milo, then looked at Theo. “Tell your mom and dad everything. Tell them what you want, tell them what you feel. They love you very much and they deserve the truth, alright?”
The two boys had nodded, and then the detective had stood up, ruffled Milo’s hair, and walked off. Now Theo remembered his advice.
“I wanted to be with Mom. I love you, Dad, but I want you to be together again, I want it to be like it was before, even if she did something bad. I want you to accept her apology and let her come home so we can all be together.” He looked at his family. “We are supposed to all be together, whatever happens.”
“She can sleep in my room, if you don’t want to share,” added Kate. “It’s fine. I can move my Beanie Babies.” She looked serious. “I have too many anyway.” Then she shook her head. “No, that’s not true, but I can move them.”
Charlie looked at Anne’s face, the near-miss of the day washing away everything that had come before. They’d held hands and burned with fear, and the annealing had broken open a crack of possibility.
He smiled at her as if they’d never met, and she started to cry.
Christmas.
Frances was sitting in the living room, watching her kids decorate the Christmas tree, the old orange cat on her lap. She thought back to that morning in the tree lot: The kids and Michael were arguing about whether or not to get greenery for the front door, and Iris and Sara were trailing around after Wyatt, as he pointed to larger and larger trees. From this distance she couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Sara kept shaking her head and Iris just looked tired and mildly green. The hormone treatments were making her nauseous, and Sara had stepped up to run the holidays. Of course, they’d be coming to Frances’s house, as they did every year, but that was a week or two off yet. Hopefully Iris would feel better by then and able to eat.
Frances stroked the cat’s head. Frances had seen Anne and Charlie unloading their tree the day before. They were still being a little too polite to each other, but at least they were all under the same roof, and the kids were doing better. Anne was sleeping in the guest room, but she was hopeful. They were seeing a therapist, all of them, and maybe it would work. And maybe it wouldn’t. Not her problem.
Milo had taken his six weeks of house arrest and loss of computer privileges in stride, and he and Ava were getting on better since his transgression had led to both of them getting cell phones. The whole family had ended up staying offline for a month anyway, while the video of Frances losing her temper had enjoyed its fifteen minutes of fame. They’d ignored the media and after a week or two of leaving the phone off the hook it had all gone away. Frances knew it would haunt her on and off forever, but who cared? It had stopped the bitches at school calling her Saint Frances, which had always been annoying. As an additional bonus, the painful abyss of boredom occasioned by the lack of Internet had caused Ava to pick up her cello again and rejoin the orchestra. Proving once again that it’s always darkest before the dawn, or that every cloud has a silver lining, or something like that.
Frances heard thumping down the stairs and suddenly Lally appeared, silently crossing the doorway on her way to the kitchen. She was dragging an enormous stuffed giraffe behind her, a giraffe Frances hated and had tried to get rid of many times. The neck, the body, the legs . . . The fucking thing took several seconds to clear the doorway, and Lally was exerting herself as she tugged it along. She appeared to have attached it to herself with—Frances swallowed—fur-lined handcuffs.
Michael looked up, ready to ask Lally if she was coming to help with the tree decorating. He saw the giraffe. He saw the handcuffs. There was the barest pause, then he looked at Frances. Almost imperceptibly she shook her head and watched her husband follow their youngest into the kitchen, hoping to head off further embarrassment. It probably wouldn’t work, but she admired his willingness to try.
Still, it would be a funny story to tell Julie, who was hoping to be home before Christmas. The neighborhood would be together again, in all its imperfect, fractured, embarrassing glory. She’d just have to do her best to keep it that way. She stroked the cat and felt comfortable, even as he tightened his front paws and poked ten identical holes in her thighs.
Discussion Questions
1. In this book the neighborhood plays an important role. What other situations create this kind of community, and how does seeing people every day change your relationship to them?
2. The central character, Frances Bloom, is someone who likes to help, because it makes her feel useful. Do you know someone like this? Do you find it easier to help or be helped?
3. Frances and Michael have a very happy but not very romantic marriage. Do you think that this will eventually drive them apart?
4. Anne Porter has an affair and nearly destroys her marriage. How important is sexual fidelity? Is it the most important element in a marriage? Can trust be rebuilt after a betrayal of this kind?
5. How much do children understand their parents’ marriage? How hard is it to maintain privacy in a relationship once you have children?
6. Sara and Iris are experiencing communication problems in their marriage, although it’s very strong. Have you gone through something similar, where communication breaks down for no apparent reason, and then becomes difficult to
