A New Kind of Bliss (18 page)

Mom was using the bathroom when the phone rang, so I answered it. My sister was calling. “Oh, hi, Cissy.”

“How’s it going? I heard your big news.”

I blinked. “My big news?”

“That you landed the big dog.”

“Cissy, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Aaron, silly. Mom told me he’s made a declaration.”

I sighed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I told her to keep that quiet. It wasn’t intended to be broadcast.”

“I haven’t said anything to anyone about it. But Mom was concerned. She said you’re holding back. What’s up?”

“Quite frankly, Cissy, that’s none of your business.”

The silence that followed reflected my sister’s hurt feelings.

“I’m sorry,” I said gently. “It’s just that I need to keep some details of my private life private.”

“Yes, of course you do. Is Mom around? I forgot to tell her something when we talked earlier.”

I
drove Mom over to see the apartment that afternoon. She’d never been to Aaron’s house before, and she gaped at the impressive tan stucco-and-stone mansion behind the tall locking gates. “My God! He really has money, doesn’t he, Emmie?”

“Oh, I’d say he’s done pretty well for himself.” In spite of my amusement, I understood her awe. It was one thing to know in the back of one’s mind that a person had money. It was another to actually
see
it. Visualizing Aaron’s house was just as good as seeing his latest bank statement.

I felt a little uneasy as I rang the doorbell. I hadn’t seen Beverline Wilson since the Fourth of July weekend in Sag Harbor. She’d disliked me from the time of our very first encounter, and time had likely done nothing to change her opinion. I wish I could have been the proverbial fly on the wall to see her reaction when Aaron told her he planned to rent the guest house to my mother and me.

I cheered up when the housekeeper answered the door. I’d met Shirley Whitman when she came to work one day before I left Aaron’s. Shirley was a sweet woman, but she would make a lousy poker player. She hadn’t been able to conceal her shock at seeing me. I was fully dressed at the time, but there is only one conclusion one could come to when a man has female company at eight in the morning.

I was happy to see her. Maybe Mom and I could tour the apartment without having to see Beverline or the kids at all. “Hello, Shirley.”

“Hello, Miss Yancy. The doctor said he was expecting you and your mother.” Shirley was an attractive brown-skinned woman in her late fifties who always wore khaki pants and a white blouse—maybe the twenty-first-century version of a housekeeper’s uniform? She smiled at Mom. “You must be Mrs. Yancy. Welcome.”

Shirley was her usual pleasant self, but I always felt a little…well, overprivileged at having her address me so formally. The woman was, after all, older than I, probably by a good fifteen years. It made me uncomfortably aware of class differences. Not that I considered myself better than anyone else. The cold, hard fact was that Shirley worked for Aaron, while I claimed the status of being a friend and lover to him. This was the way protocol declared things should be.

“If you’ll make yourselves comfortable, I’ll let Dr. Merritt know you’re here,” Shirley said.

I glanced at Mom, and the way she held her own made me proud. She managed to look like she was accustomed to being in such elegant households. She whispered to me as we walked inside, “I thought his house would be like Cissy’s or Sonny’s. But this is like a
castle.
Look at the size of this foyer!”

Mom tended to make presumptions that everyone’s experiences matched hers, which translates to the rather narrow belief that everyone’s house must be like those of her children. I knew better, although I haven’t gotten so jaded that I’ve forgotten my own astonishment the first time I saw Aaron’s home. An image of Marsha’s wistful expression flashed through my mind. Is this how she’d felt when she’d left Sherwood Forest so many years ago to marry that drug dealer? Her house across the Hudson in Englewood Cliffs was probably even more grand than Aaron’s abode. God, it must have killed her to have to return to the projects, even if her mother’s apartment had beautiful furnishings and a plasma TV within its cinder-block walls, courtesy of Marsha’s late husband.

I’d been holding Mom’s arm, and I almost tripped when she stopped dead in her tracks in front of the portrait of Aaron’s late wife. “Who’s that?”

“That’s my daughter.”

I knew who the proud voice belonged to before I turned around. I did turn, and there she stood, about six steps from the landing, wearing a black sweater and black pants, her hands clasped in front of her and her gray hair brushed back, looking creepily like a black version of Mrs. Danvers from the movie
Rebecca
. Not a bad analogy, considering I felt as welcome here as the second Mrs. de Winter.

“Hello, Mrs. Wilson,” I said with as much pleasantness as I could muster. “This is my mother, Ruby Yancy. Mom, this is Aaron’s mother-in-law, Beverline Wilson.”

“I’m glad to know you, Mrs. Wilson,” my mother said in a tone she would use to teach Sunday school.

“Likewise, Mrs. Yancy.” Beverline’s eyes returned to the portrait. “That’s my daughter, Diana. Aaron’s wife.” She spoke in an offhand manner that suggested Diana was at the hair-dresser and would be back momentarily.

Mom didn’t let me down. “Well, that would certainly make you his mother-in-law,” she said brightly.

Beverline’s smile faded like a once vivid memory. She walked down the remaining stairs and said, “Aaron tells me you may be renting our guest house.”

She said “our” like her name was on the deed to Aaron’s property, which I sincerely doubted.

“That’s right,” Mom replied.

She responded with a weak smile as Aaron entered the room and rushed toward me. “I was downstairs bowling with Billy. Shirley just told me you were here.” He kissed me on the mouth, and I could have sworn I saw Beverline flinch out of the corner of my eye.

Aaron moved from me to Mom. “Mrs. Yancy, good to see you,” he said, wrapping her in a warm hug.

“Aaron, you have a beautiful home. Did I hear you say you have a bowling alley in your basement?”

“Well, thank you. And yes, I do. Just two lanes, though.”

Mom flashed me a “whatever-you-do-don’t-let-this-man-get-away” look.

“Diana decorated it,” Beverline said proudly. “She did it alone, too. No help from a decorator.”

“That’s right, she did,” Aaron said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Well, she certainly has…er, had excellent taste.” Mom looked distressed at her gaffe, then said sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I seem to be tripping over my tongue today.”

I couldn’t fault her for her mistake, not with Beverline making it sound like Diana would come strolling through the front door at any moment.

We heard footsteps running down the Southwestern motif–tiled hall, and Billy appeared. He ran over to me and greeted me with a hug. “Hi, Emily!”

“Hi, Billy. It’s good to see you. It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it has. Daddy and I were bowling. You gonna play with us?”

“I’m afraid Emily came for something else, Billy,” Aaron said.

The disappointment in Billy’s eyes was genuine, much to my delight.

“Billy, we have another guest,” Aaron continued. “Emily’s mother is here. Her name is Mrs. Yancy. Mrs. Yancy, this is my son, Billy.”

“Hi!” Billy said.

“Hello, Billy.”

“Billy, you have better manners than that,” Beverline chided. “It’s ‘Hello,
Mrs. Yancy
.’”

“Hello, Mrs. Yancy,” Billy said so obediently that I couldn’t suppress a chuckle. He turned to Aaron. “I guess y’all are gonna be talkin’ about grown-up stuff.”

“Yes, Billy. Why don’t you go down and finish the game? We’ll pick it up later, okay?”

“Okay. But I’m gonna go upstairs for a minute first.” He bounded up the stairs.

“What a charming boy,” Mom remarked. “By the time junior high rolls around, the girls will be calling for him all the time.”

“Are you kidding? He’s getting calls now, and he’s only in third grade,” Aaron said.

“He’s the spitting image of Diana,” Beverline piped up, confirming my belief that she would mention her deceased daughter at every opportunity. It had already gotten old. Especially since Billy looked more like Aaron.

Mom was cool about it. “Yes, I see the resemblance.”

Aaron draped one arm around my shoulders, the other around Mom. “Well, why don’t we take a look at the apartment?” he suggested.

I hoped Beverline would find something else to do, but the next thing I knew, she had her coat on and was trailing us like a suspicious store detective.

We crossed the driveway to the garage, which had an enclosed staircase at the far end.

“I hope the stairs won’t be a detriment for you, Mrs. Yancy,” he said apologetically.

“Oh, I’m sure I can manage.”

Beverline spoke up. “You do realize it has only one bedroom. So I’m sure it’s smaller than what you have now.”

I felt pretty sure she already knew my mother had a one-bedroom apartment. “Actually, my mother’s apartment has just one bedroom,” I said politely.

“Good heavens, Emily, where do you sleep?”

“Beverline,” Aaron said, caution in his tone.

Mom jumped into the breach. “You see, Mrs. Wilson, I’m fortunate to have devoted children. None of them live in Westchester, but my son and older daughter both wanted me to come live with them. My Emmie had a life of her own in Indiana, including owning a lovely townhome, but she put everything on hold to make sure I was taken care of after my husband passed away. But then again, that’s what families do in times of loss.”

“We understand perfectly, Mrs. Yancy,” Aaron said. “Beverline was good enough to come and live with the kids and me while Diana was ill, and she stayed on to help out.”

“Well, that was a little different, dear,” Beverline pointed out. “
I
came to live with
you,
not the other way around.”

Only with supreme self-control did I not say that it wouldn’t have been practical for Aaron and his children to move to Camden.

“Who moved in with whom isn’t the point,” Aaron said calmly. “Mrs. Yancy was making the point that families stick together in times of need.” He turned and inserted his key in the door. “Let’s go in.” He held the door open for us to walk through.

“Oh, how very nice!” Mom exclaimed, and I had to agree. The rooms were bright, courtesy of two windows in the dining area and three more in the living room. The floors were covered with a tan carpet that looked like it had never been stepped on, and the walls were painted a stark but crisp-looking white.

“It looks like it’s never been lived in,” I remarked.

“It hasn’t,” Beverline said. “Not since Aaron and Diana bought the house. I understand that the previous owner had a live-in housekeeper. Shirley goes home when her work is done.”

Aaron shrugged. “I suppose I could have rented it for extra income, but it never occurred to me.”

Mom met my eyes.
Because he doesn’t need the money,
she silently conveyed.

She walked to inspect the kitchen, which was compact, but well equipped. She opened the door to what looked like the pantry and let out a delighted squeal. I quickly moved behind her to see what had her so excited. Inside the pantry was a small washer and dryer.

“Oh, Emmie, look at this!” she said, obviously forgetting herself. “I never had a washer and dryer before.”

“You mean you have to take your clothes to the Laundromat?” Beverline asked incredulously.

“You don’t have to make it sound like not having a washer and dryer is comparable to holding up a 7-Eleven,” I said. “Even some luxury apartments on the East Side of Manhattan don’t always have the proper hookups.”

“I’ve never lived on the East Side. I’ve only lived in the suburbs.”

“I don’t think too many people would call Camden suburbia, Mrs. Wilson.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she looked accusingly at Aaron.

“Yes, I told Emily where you used to live,” he said quietly. “You and I have had this discussion about your pretending to be something you’re not, haven’t we?”

“Excuse me.” She headed for the door, and a moment later we all heard it slam shut.

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” I said. “But I couldn’t bear listening to her sound like she held court at Buckingham Palace another minute.”

He came up behind me and massaged my shoulders through my jacket. “Don’t worry about it. If she doesn’t like it, she can always move out.”

I knew my chances of winning that Powerball jackpot they have in Connecticut were higher than the odds of Beverline ever leaving Aaron’s house.

“So Mom, what’d you think about the apartment?”

“Are you kidding? It’s much nicer than the place I’ve lived the last twenty-five years. And it’s less money. What’s to think about?”

I chuckled. “And you don’t think New Rochelle is too far from Euliss?”

“Well, I’ll probably join a church there, just so I can find out about their social functions. But I’ll still drive to service in Euliss, maybe once a month or so. Getting there on Sunday mornings won’t be a problem for me.”

Like many a woman her age, Mom drove during daytime hours but avoided driving after dark.

“But, Emmie, Aaron will have to give us a lease, and it has to specify that either one of us can keep the apartment. If anything should happen to me—”

“Mom!”

“Listen to me, now; I’m serious. I don’t trust that mother-in-law of his. At the first sign of a loophole, she’ll try to get him to throw us out. Not that I think Aaron would ever do that…”

I had a vision of me having sex with Teddy and furiously blinked it away. But it did make for one hell of a violation,
if
Aaron should ever find out about it.

“…but if something should happen to him, even. Not that I think it will.”

I shrugged. Mom was certainly being a Gloomy Gertie this afternoon. If she
had
to kill someone off, couldn’t it be Beverline?

“I take it Beverline left you with the same charming impression she left on me.”

“What a bitch!”

My eyes widened. The only questionable language I’d ever heard my mother use was, “Damn it!” and then only when she spilled or broke something. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Well, she is one. Going on and on about her daughter like that. ‘Not since Aaron and Diana bought this house,’” she mimicked. “The only thing her daughter did in terms of helping buy that house was marry Aaron. I know she wasn’t a doctor, too. Otherwise Beverline would have made sure I knew it.” She grunted. “I’ll bet she wasn’t anything else but a housewife.”

“Yes, she was. She did teach for a few years, but Aaron said not since they had their first child.”

“The nerve of that woman, looking down on us just because we come from Euliss!” Mom continued. “Especially considering that cabbage patch
she
came out of.” Then she sighed. “But I do feel a little sorry for her.”