Even though Sadie knew it was the smart thing to do—her hours were about to get crazy as the new exhibit crystalized—a part of her harbored the tiniest bit of resentment at the idea of being replaced. Now it was Robin, instead of Aunt Sadie, who stayed over in the basement bedroom when Lonnie worked nights and LuAnn was away.
She studied the girl. Robin, who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, was only a head or so taller than Valentina, and wore a plaid shirt and jeans. They looked like a couple of schoolchildren together.
Valentina pulled at Robin’s arm. “Robin said I can buy a shirt like hers, so I can be grungy as well.”
“Grunge,” said Robin, laughing. “We’ll try to avoid getting you grungy.”
“Grunge,” Valentina repeated. “Aunt Sadie loves old clothes, from the olden days.”
“That dress is really pretty,” said Robin.
“Thanks. Valentina’s coat is vintage as well,” said Sadie. “Remember, V? We got it a thrift shop together.”
Robin looked down at her green coat, as if reassessing its value. “Yeah.”
Inside the town house, Sadie said a quick hello to Lonnie in the dining room, where his lanky six-foot-three-inch frame sat hunched over a stack of bills, like a parenthesis wearing reading glasses. Upstairs, in the guest room where their mother had taken up residence, Pearl lay in the four-poster bed, dressed in a rose-colored flannel nightgown. At eighty-seven, and weighing about the same in pounds, Pearl had a habit of smiling weakly, as if she were about to go at any moment, before demanding a vanilla milkshake or a different pillow, in a bellow that rattled the walls.
“How are you feeling, Mom?” asked Sadie.
“Fine, just fine.” Pearl looked behind Sadie. “Where’s the little girl?”
“You mean Valentina, your granddaughter? She’s upstairs with Robin, the new babysitter.”
Her mother waved a hand. “I knew that.”
“Of course you did.” Sadie perched on the side of the bed. “I have good news, I got a promotion at the library today. It’s temporary, but it’s a good sign, I think.”
“Lovely, dear.” Her mother’s fingernails were a bubblegum pink, slightly smudged around the edges, signs that she’d been the recipient of one of Valentina’s enthusiastic manicures.
“Hey, Mom. Do you remember when you were Valentina’s age, and you lived in the library?”
“What?”
“When you lived in the library, when you were a little girl?” she repeated.
“We don’t talk about that.”
Sadie wondered who “we” was. Pearl and her mother?
“I brought you something.” She pulled out a small box of chocolates from her purse, from her mother’s favorite store on Madison Avenue.
Her mother smiled and, with shaky fingers, chose a dark chocolate one. She put it in her mouth and didn’t chew, just let it melt away, her eyes half-closed.
“They’re good, right?” said Sadie. “These are what Phillip would bring me every anniversary.”
Her mother swallowed the chocolate with a grimace. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
“What?”
“Sadie, that was years ago. You must move on, my girl.”
The sudden burst of lucidity from Pearl was like a foghorn splicing through the mist. Sadie knew it was a good sign, that she was recovering from the shock of being in the intensive care unit for three weeks, but her attack still stung.
“I was just saying something nice, that’s all.”
“No. You live in the past. Look at those clothes, you read old books for a living. Move on before it’s too late.”
Pearl had always been something of a benevolent bully, telling everyone how they should live their lives, especially her daughter, but the comment hurt. “That sounds rather ominous.”
“Trust me. When your father died, I moved on. Don’t you remember? I did that for your sake, and for mine. What’s your problem, missy?”
Sadie inhaled sharply and felt an ache deep in her belly. She rose and went to the window, where the sky was erasing itself into darkness.
How easy it had been for Pearl to move on. After Sadie’s father passed away, her mother had dated in a tornado of repressed grief before partnering up with a man named Don who bragged about being as different from Sadie’s father as “an Alfa Romeo is from a Crosley Hotshot,” whatever that meant. His black business suits and shiny briefcase were a stark contrast to her musician father’s short-sleeve shirts and battered instrument cases.
Sadie had listened wordlessly as Don expounded on the route of the Grand Prix in Monaco at the dinner table while Pearl beamed. But when Sadie tried out some of the French she’d learned in school that week, he’d stared at her, uncomprehending, unamused.
He brought Sadie a wrist corsage of white roses for Valentine’s Day, along with a dozen red roses for her mother, which was followed by a quick marriage ceremony at City Hall. After that, any mention that Sadie made about her father in passing was quickly shushed by her mother and shot down with a sharp look from Don.
One Sunday, Don put a record on the stereo that Sadie recognized as a waltz, and held out a hand for her to join in. When she placed her feet on top of his shoes, as she’d always done with her father, Don shoved her away, hard. “What on earth are you doing?” he yelled. “I just polished these.”
She barely managed to stay standing. “It’s how we dance,” she explained. “Danced. Me and my dad.”
Don knelt down, licked his thumb, and rubbed at an invisible scratch in the leather. “Stupid kid.”
She’d retreated to her room, too stunned to cry.
Don had lasted a few years before the marriage fizzled and Pearl went back to her maiden name, Lyons. By the time Sadie left for college in New Jersey, her mother had had a series of long-term boyfriends, some better than others but no one special.
Sadie’s hard stop to her dalliance with Claude had been the right decision. Between her mother’s disastrous choices and Lonnie’s growing family, Sadie didn’t need to take any romantic risks post-divorce. She was loved and loved back, and that was enough.
Valentina burst in, holding a large, flat box in her hand, Robin trailing not far behind. “Let’s play a game, all of us.”
“Sure. Set it up on Grandma’s bed. What game is it?”
“Operation.” Valentina arranged the game on a tray propped over Pearl’s lap. Sadie tucked herself in behind the girl, breathing in the scent of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo from her hair.