The House on Honeysuckle Lane (33 page)

C
HAPTER
69

D
aniel took a deep breath and knocked on the front door of number 32. He did not use his key this morning. He no longer believed he had a right to use it, not with his sisters in residence.

After a moment Andie opened the door. He thought she looked thoroughly surprised to see him.
Well
, he thought,
of course she would be surprised.
And, he thought, maybe even a little bit scared.

“Hi,” he said. “Can I come in?”

Andie stepped back to allow him past. “I was just coming to see you,” she said, indicating the jacket she held in her hand.

“I'm saving you the trip.” Daniel attempted a smile. “Where's Emma?”

Andie shrugged. “I'm not sure. She said she was going for a drive. Do you want some coffee? I could make another pot.”

Daniel shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said. “Look, could we sit down?”

“Sure.” Andie led him to the kitchen and they took seats at the table. Daniel saw that while his sisters' breakfast had been cleared away, the dishes still sat in the sink. He restrained the urge to comment on the housekeeping. After all, he was here on a mission of peace and tolerance.

“I came here to apologize to you,” he said abruptly. “I've been completely out of line since you came back to Oliver's Well. I've behaved miserably toward you and I really am sorry for it. Will you accept my apology?”

Daniel watched his sister closely in an effort to gauge her reaction to his words before she spoke, but he could tell nothing from Andie's expression of what he could only describe as calm detachment.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I accept your apology. And I apologize for any of my words or behaviors that might have hurt you. I promise it was never—I promise it
is
never—my intention.”

“I know,” Daniel admitted, with a sigh of relief. “I know you always mean the best. And thank you.”

Then Andie took a deep breath and Daniel tensed. Clearly, there was more to come.... But he would just have to be brave.

“I overheard what you said about me to Anna Maria at Norma Campbell's party,” his sister told him. “About my being useless. It hurt.”

Daniel rubbed his forehead. “I'm so sorry, Andie. I should never have said you were useless. I should never even have
thought
something so cruel and untrue. I hope we can go on from here. I hope this isn't the end of our relationship.”

Andie finally smiled. “Danny,” she said, “don't be silly. We're stuck with each other whether we like it or not.”

“Blood is thicker than water?”

“That's what the experts say. But tell me, Danny. Why were you so angry with me? You didn't always feel so—so combative—toward me, did you?”

Daniel frowned. He wasn't sure he could properly put his feelings into words that would make sense to Andie, but he would have to try. “No,” he said, “I didn't. It sounds so ridiculous, but I started feeling put upon. I had convinced myself that you and Emma had been taking me for granted, relying on me unfairly to take care of Mom and Dad and then their estate, when the truth was I
wanted
to be the caretaker. But then . . . I think my grieving took a wrong turn after Mom died. It became . . . it became all about me, if that makes sense. I kind of stopped realizing that every one of us was struggling with losing our parents, not just me.”

Andie leaned across the table and put her hand on Daniel's arm. “I do respect you, Danny,” she told him, her tone earnest. “For being a good human being. For being a fantastic father and husband. For being the best darn cook in the kitchen! I'm sorry if I haven't succeeded in showing you that respect.”

“My feelings aren't your responsibility, or Emma's or anyone else's,” Daniel said firmly, putting his hand over his sister's. “When I think about it all rationally I can see that you've never treated me with disrespect. I can see that you've always thanked me for being here for Mom and Dad. Still . . . I guess I just . . .”

“You don't have to say anything else, Danny, not for my sake anyway.”

Suddenly, Daniel laughed. “Good,” he said. “Because I've said more about my state of mind and my feelings in the past two or three days than I probably have in my entire life! I'm exhausted.”

“Identifying and then expressing your emotions gets easier the more you practice. Trust me, Danny.”

“I do.” Daniel glanced down at his watch—once his father's watch. “I should be going,” he said. “I asked the produce manager at the grocery store to set aside some good Hass avocados for me, but if there's an unexpected run on avocados, all bets are off.”

Andie smiled. “A client in the mood for guacamole?”

“No, actually. Anna Maria's been craving avocados for some reason these past two weeks.” Daniel got up from the table. “Look,” he said, “I was wondering if we could all get together soon to sort through Mom's jewelry. It will be fun. I promise. No drama, no throwing paintings.”

“Sure,” Andie said. “How about this evening? I'm certainly free and I'm sure Emma will make herself available.”

“Good. I know the kids will have fun. Well, at least Sophia will.” Daniel hesitated a moment before saying, “Will you ask Rumi? Or do you want me to invite her?”

“I'll let her know. About seven?”

“Great,” he said. “I'll bring ingredients for ice-cream sodas. You like coffee ice cream in yours, don't you?”

“You remember that, after all these years?”

Daniel shrugged. “Who knows how memory works? I can't remember what day of the week it is sometimes, but I can remember that you like coffee ice cream and that Emma was obsessed with playing dominoes when she was ten.”

With a laugh, Andie let him out of the house. And as Daniel walked down the driveway to his car he felt a sense of relief he hadn't felt in a very long time. He and his oldest sister were two very different people and he wasn't naive enough to think that they would never again clash or view a particular situation from two very different and maybe even incompatible perspectives. Still, he believed—he had to believe—that from this point on their relationship would be one of mutual respect. And that, he thought, getting behind the wheel, was a very good thing.

* * *

“Emma's got the auction house lined up, but we still have to settle on a real estate agent if we're going to get this house sold,” Daniel was saying to his wife as he and his family approached the front door of number 32 at just before seven o'clock that evening.

“That's true, but let's just have fun tonight,” Anna Maria suggested gently. “Let's keep all talk about anything other than necklaces and bracelets out of the conversation. All right?”

Daniel squeezed his wife's hand. “All right,” he said. And he thought,
I should listen to my wife more often. Really listen.

Before Marco could ring the doorbell Emma opened the door and welcomed them all inside the house.

“And here comes Rumi,” she said. Daniel turned to see that his niece had just parked her car along the curb. A moment later she joined the family in the living room; Andie, too, was there.

“I can only stay a minute,” Rumi told them. “But I wanted to say hello to everyone.”

Daniel was disappointed. “Please stay, Rumi. I was hoping we all could be together this evening.”

“I'm sorry, Uncle Daniel. My friend Marina's boyfriend just dumped her by text, if you can believe it, and she feels awful. I need to be there for her.”

Andie nodded. “Being a good friend is always important.”

Rumi smiled. “Thanks, Mom. Have fun, everyone.” And then she was gone, hurrying back to her car and her friend in distress.

Daniel looked to his oldest sister. “Did you two talk?” he asked. “She seems . . . She seems better.”

Andie nodded. “Bob got us together last night. We three talked openly and honestly with each other. I think it was helpful. At least, when I called her earlier about coming over this evening she took my call and was pleasant.”

“Good,” Daniel said. “I'm glad.”

“So am I,” Emma added. “Now, let's get this party started. Into the dining room, everybody.”

Daniel first went to the kitchen to deposit the ingredients for the ice-cream sodas and then joined his sisters in the dining room, where they had laid out Caro's jewelry on the long dining table. “Wow,” he said. “I never knew Mom had this much bling.”

“Me, neither,” Andie admitted. “She never wore much jewelry at any given time. I guess I thought she didn't care all that much for baubles.”

“Mom!” Sophia cried. “Look at these earrings!”

“Let me see them,” Daniel said. He took the teardrop-shaped danglers from his daughter and clipped them to his earlobes.

“Dad!” Sophia screamed a little, and Marco pointed at his father and howled with laughter. “I so have to have a picture of this!” he gasped. “Aunt Emma! Aunt Andie! Someone take a picture!”

Emma obliged her nephew.

“If you send it to your friends, Marco, you're grounded. Ow, these things really pinch.” Daniel removed the earrings and put them back onto the table.

“Anything for the sake of fashion, darling,” Anna Maria joked.

Emma picked up a pearl-studded piece about the size of a fifty-cent coin. “Look at this brooch,” she said. “It's really exquisite. The mark says it's a Dior. Obviously their costume line, but how lovely.”

Daniel picked up another brooch, this one made with blue and green crystals in a spiral pattern. “Remember when Mom wore that turban for a while to parties?” he said. “Back when it was fashionable to wear turbans, I suppose. She used to pin a different brooch on it depending on what color dress she wore.”

“I do remember. Was she channeling Elizabeth Taylor?” Andie wondered.

“Elizabeth Taylor wasn't classy enough for Mom to emulate,” Emma said. “No insult to Liz; I think she was fantastic. Grace Kelly was more Mom's fashion icon, though I don't know if she ever wore a turban.”

Anna Maria sighed as she examined a marquise-shaped brooch studded with rhinestones. “People don't wear brooches and stickpins like they used to. It's a shame, really. They can be so pretty.”

“Like a silk scarf, a brooch elevates an outfit,” Emma said. “Though I can't see most of these pieces working with anything I own.”

“Me, neither.” Andie smiled. “Though this crystal snowflake brooch might be nice on my fleece-lined hoodie.”

Daniel looked down at all of the precious objects that had once meant so much to his mother, objects that now had no owner, no one to cherish them. He felt sad and nostalgic for what had once been, but he also realized that for the first time since his mother's passing he felt just a little bit free of the raw emotions that had been dogging him. His mother, he thought, had had every right to her secrets, to a friend named Susan, to a man not his father. The healing, he thought, seemed finally to be taking place.

“So, if you guys can't wear a lot of this, what do we do with it?” he asked. “Certainly we can't throw anything out. That wouldn't be right.”

“We could include it in the general auction of furniture and crystal and china,” Anna Maria suggested.

“As a separate lot, of course. Or two lots, the real and the faux?” Emma asked.

Daniel nodded. “First we should each choose something special, something we remember Mom wearing.”

“There are some valuable pieces here,” Emma pointed out. “Like the Schlumberger blue enamel bangle. How did Dad afford this? It's not a knock-off. It's the real deal.”

“I'd forgotten about that bracelet. It was a gift from Mom's parents,” Daniel told her. “They gave it to her for her twenty-first birthday.”

“So, do we keep the bracelet and anything else we can identify as important in the family? Or do we sell the important pieces and split the profit? Of course I don't mean Dad's watch and Mom's pearls and her wedding set, the items they gave us specifically.”

Andie shrugged. “Whatever seems fair.”

“Some pieces have more financial value than others,” Emma went on, almost as if to herself. “To replace them if they were stolen might be too expensive for whichever of us has chosen the piece.”

Daniel felt a sudden surge of annoyance. “So? What are you saying?”

“I'm just thinking aloud,” Emma said. “Let's say we don't sell the important pieces. We should all be aware that whoever chooses the bracelet, for example, will be getting a far more expensive item than whoever chooses, say, this stickpin with the single pearl. We all need to be okay about those disparities. Of course, before we each make a choice we might bring in a jewelry appraiser, which we'd have to do anyway if we decide to auction off the lot. And to make things really fair we might decide that we each have to choose an item of similar value.”

“Do you think I care if you or Andie winds up with more money than I do?” Daniel snapped.

Anna Maria put her hand on his arm. “Daniel, that's not what Emma is saying.”

“It's not, Danny,” Emma said quickly. “Really. I'm not making any accusations. I'm just being practical. It's my job. Where money's concerned, people can become unusually sensitive or irrational.”

“Well, not me!” Daniel protested. And then he became painfully aware that every one in the room was watching him. Emma's expression was tense with anticipation; Andie's was guarded and wary. Marco looked puzzled, Sophia, a bit worried. And his wife . . . Well, “stern” wasn't quite the word to describe the look on Anna Maria's face. Maybe the word was “disappointed.”