The next morning, she woke and dressed and left the house before Ari was up. Now that she had set certain things in motion, she was eager to get on with them.
First, she met Silas at the Downyflake for breakfast. Over a Tex-Mex omelet and delicious coffee, Eleanor gave Silas a brief summary of the turbulent events of the weekend. In return, Silas told her about his daughter, who was getting a divorce, and his son, who worked compulsively, leaving no time for pleasure.
They had an appointment at ten-thirty with Jeff Townsend, the realtor who’d worked with Silas. He took them both through the house next door to Silas.
“It’s charming,” Eleanor said, “but isn’t it awfully small?”
Silas said, “Some hotels would be small compared to your ’Sconset house.”
Jeff said, “It is actually fairly large if you look at the floor plan. Because it’s an older home, the rooms are small—you know how Nantucket houses are. If you wanted to, you could knock out a wall here and there and have one or two bigger rooms.”
“The en suite bathroom is nice,” Eleanor admitted. She rather admired the new and newly conceptualized standing bathtub with its graceful curves.
“Absolutely,” Jeff hastened to agree. “That’s a definite plus in this old house. All new plumbing in the bathrooms and kitchen. The kitchen has granite counters!”
Eleanor rolled her eyes and turned away. “Just what I’ve always wanted.”
But after they’d seen the basement, the cleanest basement Eleanor had ever been in, and walked around the house, and the realtor had pointed out that the house had all-new windows and storm windows, Eleanor told Jeff she wanted the house and would call in a few hours to discuss money.
When Eleanor got home that afternoon, she found Ari still in her pajamas, lounging on the sofa in the family room, watching television, surrounded by popcorn crumbs.
Eleanor laughed. “It looks like you’ve had a lazy day.”
Ari began brushing the loose kernels off the sofa and into her hand. “Oh, man, I am such a slob,” Ari said. “No wonder no one wants to live with me.”
“It sounds like you’re indulging in a nice, deep vat of self-pity.” Eleanor perched on the end of the recliner and had a momentary flash of longing to lie back in the chair, pull the lever that would lift her feet up, steal the remote control from her granddaughter, and watch a British mystery series. She’d already had such a busy day. But she loved her granddaughter above all things, so she said in a grandmotherly tone, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t even know where to start.” Ari twisted the tie on her bathrobe.
“Tell me about yesterday. How did your father and mother get along?”
“It was kind of crazy, actually. Mom got off the cruise ship with a man but they were too far away for Dad and me to get a good look at him. Anyway, Mom left him when she saw us and Mom and Dad had a momentary Hollywood ending. But on the drive home, they started arguing about everything. They talked about their marriage, but they also talked about me.” Ari began to cry. “Basically, Dad thinks I should have the baby at Mass General and Mom doesn’t want me at home with the baby because I was such a terrible baby and apparently traumatized her for life.”
“You were not a terrible baby,” Eleanor murmured.
“I can’t understand my mother,” Ari cried. “She was such a good mother, especially when I was in high school. She loved taking me shopping. She loved coming to the college for parents’ weekend. But now that I’m out of college, she’s kind of freaked out at the idea of having me live at home again. Also, she still has her heart set on you selling this house. I love this house and I know how you love it.”
Eleanor was quiet for a moment, ordering her thoughts. “First of all, let’s talk about your mother. You need to remember that she was very much her daddy’s little girl. She was spoiled and always wanted the best of the best and to be popular. Once Cliff was born I know she felt jealous of all the attention I paid him.”
“Okay,” Ari said. “I can understand that.”
“So,” Eleanor continued, “and I’m just guessing here, while you were growing into an adult, your father and mother were edging up toward that terrifying milestone, the age of fifty. Lots of people go a little crazy around that age. They start wondering if they’ve accomplished as much as they assumed they would when they were younger. They start noticing a few gray hairs on their heads, a few extra pounds that just won’t go away, and a kind of restlessness to do something different.”
“Well,” Ari said, “Dad certainly did something different.”
“Think about it,” Eleanor said. “For decades they spent their life taking care of others. Your father saved lives and made very good money but he certainly didn’t become a millionaire. Your mother devoted her life to you and if you don’t believe that, you will understand when you have your own child and she’s two years old and sick or nine years old and has just fallen off her bike. Your mother really deserves a little escape, a little glamour. And the hard
