“I think things have turned out fine,” Maddie said, looking relaxed as they started eating dinner. “And I had a nice time driving across the country.”
“You took some beautiful photographs, Mom.” And after realizing how solitary and lonely she was at times, he was never going to let seven months go by again without seeing her. She deserved so much more than that from them.
“Thank you, darling. I’m going to Mendocino, by the way. I wrote to Millie that I was here to see you, and she’s letting me come up for a few days.” Maddie had heard from her and Milagra had agreed to a visit. The word “let” irked him. They had all shut Maddie out of their lives in some way, for their own convenience and selfish reasons.
“I’m sorry I’m leaving for Hawaii so soon. We planned it months ago, or I’d change it,” he said quietly.
“You don’t have to. I can come out again if Laura doesn’t mind.”
“She won’t,” he said with his lips set in a thin line. “She’ll be happy to see you too.” He wasn’t going to leave it in Laura’s hands anymore. Maddie was his mother and it was his responsibility. He had allowed Laura to manhandle his mother too. He wanted his mother to spend more time with his children, and have the opportunity to know them better, even if they lived in San Francisco. She saw just as little of Deanna’s daughters, because Deanna made no effort either. They were all guilty of neglecting their mother, and he wanted that to change. His sisters had been even worse than he was.
They spent the rest of dinner talking about his children, his work, and hers. She almost said something about meeting William Smith in Big Sur, but she felt foolish doing so. Despite the roses, she probably wouldn’t have a chance to see him again. But he’d been pleasant company for a few days.
The meal had been delicious, and Ben dropped her off at The Fairmont at eleven, and headed home. She was coming to play with the children the following afternoon, and she would be staying for dinner. Laura said the kids had activities, and she had a committee meeting. Ben told her to cancel the children’s plans. Their grandmother was in town, and it was more important for them to see her. Laura didn’t argue with him after he’d missed the benefit. They were playing by new rules.
Ben was setting the tone he knew now he should have established years ago, but was too blind to see.
When Maddie came to the house the next day, she had presents for the children, and she handed Laura a gift-wrapped box from Chanel. When Laura opened it, there was a beautiful rhinestone-studded black velvet evening bag inside, since they went out in black tie so frequently, and Laura’s face lit up like a child’s at Christmas.
“What a nice thing for you to do.” She hugged Maddie, who was pleased that she liked it, and then Maddie spent the afternoon on the floor with her grandchildren. Olive was an adorable three-year-old who was fascinated by her grandmother. Maddie played cars and trucks and dinosaurs and soldiers with Willie and Charlie, and all the games she used to play with their father. She hadn’t lost her touch, although it had been a long time. Those had been the best years of her life, although she didn’t know it then, and how quickly the years would slip by.
She helped the nanny give them baths and looked disheveled when she came down to dinner with Laura and Ben, after she read the children a bedtime story. Her hair was uncombed, Charlie had splashed her in the bath, and the baggy jeans that accommodated her cast were wet. She’d had them sign her cast, and they were thrilled.
“You look like a mess, Mom,” Ben teased her, grinning.
“I had a ball.” She smiled at her son and daughter-in-law. “And I need a drink.” They all laughed and Ben handed her a glass of white wine. The dinner Laura had ordered for them was excellent. Ben had let her hire a full-time chef because she hated to cook.
Maddie left after dinner and went back to the hotel. She’d had a terrific day, and wished she had more of them. She was going to see them briefly the next day, but they all had a lot to do. They were leaving for Hawaii the following morning and she was heading for Mendocino.
Laura looked at Ben sheepishly after Maddie left. “Your mom always scared me. She’s really sweet with the kids, and even with me. The Chanel bag is a beautiful gift. I’d forgotten how nice and generous she is.”
“She’s a sweet person. It’s my rotten older sister you need to watch out for, not my mother.”
“She’s just so famous. I always thought she disapproved of me.”
“My mother isn’t like that. She’s a hardworking woman and she was always a great mom to us, no matter how busy she was. I never realized how tough it is when kids grow up. It left a hell of a hole in her life, especially with two of us out here. I hate thinking of her all alone in New York, although she’s used to it by now.”
“We’ll have her out more often. I promise,” she said and kissed him, and they went upstairs to their bedroom with his arm around her.
Maddie sat with the children while they ate dinner the next day. She told them stories about when their father was a little boy. He came home from the office late, looking harried, and Laura and the nanny had been packing for Hawaii all afternoon. Ben smiled when he saw his mother in the kitchen with the kids. That was how it should be, and he hoped it would stay that way now.
He had called his sister from the office that afternoon and read her the riot act about everything she’d said to their mother about assisted living, and having early Alzheimer’s, and all the rest.
“Where did you get off saying that kind of crap to her? She was terrified,” he had told her.
“You have to admit, she’s been crazy. Driving across the country like that seems pretty insane to me,” Deanna said stubbornly.
“I don’t think it was crazy at all. She took stock of her life, she went back and saw people she hadn’t seen in twenty years, and figured out what she wants to do now before she really does get old and falls apart, if she does. But she isn’t there yet, by any means. The trouble with you, Deanna, is you have no imagination. And you’d damn well better make an effort to spend some time with her, and be nice to her. We all need to do that while we have her. One day we’ll be sorry we didn’t. And our kids barely even know her. She’s terrific with them, just like she was with us.”
“She was never that terrific with me,” Deanna said, sounding insulted. He just hoped he had gotten through to her. What she had done when their mother broke her ankle was inexcusable.
“Maybe that’s because you were a pain in the ass even as a kid. You were hateful as a teenager,” he told her. “But we’re all grown-ups now, and it’s time to give back to her. You owe her an apology.”
“For what? Telling her to get rid of that death trap she lives in?”