Family Reunion Nancy Thayer (summer reads .txt) 📖

the vegetables plentiful, and the sauce so savory, she found herself dipping her roll in and munching it without the butter.

“Oh, good,” Silas said. “I like to do that, too, but I didn’t want to seem uncivilized.”

“But now that I’ve shown my true nature, you’re free to dip,” Eleanor told him, and they both laughed.

It was a very friendly meal. They laughed often, about little things, and they talked about Maxine and Mortimer and the old days. Silas refused to allow Eleanor to carry her bowl to the kitchen. Silas fussed around in there, muttering to himself, and returned with two Klondike bars on a gold-rimmed dessert plate.

Eleanor laughed. “I love Klondike bars!”

After a while, they discussed their children and grandchildren, but not in depth.

“Frankly,” Silas said, “I’m still exhausted from raising my son and daughter. I’d like to think I could be helpful in an emergency, but my grandchildren are still teenagers. Mountain and Ocean. Yes, those are their names. Mountain, male, plays drums. Ocean, female, is a Goth. Everything black and a nose ring.”

“Mountain and Ocean?” Eleanor echoed, and she laughed so hard she had to excuse herself to go to the bathroom.

“Would you like some coffee?” Silas asked when Eleanor returned to the table.

“No, thanks. I’d be up all night.”

“You women,” Silas said. “Maxine was that way. Coffee or even chocolate, or a phone call after nine o’clock, and she was tossing and turning in bed all night.”

“Maybe it is a gender issue,” Eleanor said. “I’ve often had trouble with insomnia. Sometimes I wandered around the house. Sometimes I turned on the light and read.” She laughed. “The light always woke Mortimer, so I bought him a sleep mask, but it caused a red mark on the arch of his nose so he refused to wear it. It’s another reason he started sleeping in the guest bedroom.”

They talked more about the eccentric problems of aging, laughing as they talked. When Silas’s mantel clock struck ten, Eleanor told him she had to go home.

“Thank you so much for the delicious meal,” she told Silas. “Next time, I’ll cook.”

Silas walked her to her car. “I’d really like to walk you home.”

She laughed. “First of all, I live fifteen miles away. If you walked alongside me, I could drive only about five miles an hour, and we’d both be exhausted halfway there.”

“Well, thank you for coming,” Silas said. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

What was that? Eleanor wondered as something fresh and sweet and long forgotten sparkled through her from the slight touch of his lips. She liked Silas very much, and so, it seemed, did her body.

As she drove home, she realized she felt so much happier after the evening with Silas. She’d forgotten the pleasure of a companion with a sense of humor. Ari could be funny, but these days were not funny for Ari or for her parents.

As she went into her house and prepared for bed, Eleanor wondered when Ari would be away from her house again. She wanted to invite Silas for dinner. As she settled in bed, pulling the sheet up to her chin, reaching out to turn off her bedside lamp with a touch, she planned the menu. She thought she might start with a large bowl of salad, all kinds of lettuces, including frisée. She loved thinking of how Silas would react.

—

She slept late Saturday and woke to a silent house. No need to dress right away. No need to scramble eggs for her hardworking granddaughter. Eleanor rose, pulled on a loose, flowery cotton robe that made her look slightly unhinged, as if she were trying to appear like a young girl. But today she wouldn’t see anyone—Silas would be playing golf with his chums all day.

Barefoot, she sauntered into her kitchen and made herself a large mug of coffee with plenty of cream and Sweet’N Low. She brought it out on the deck with her and sat in a lounge chair, facing the ocean. For a long while, she simply relaxed, watching the waves ripple in, the color of the water, the way the light changed as the sun moved.

But all too soon she began to worry. Ari. A mist of guilt and indecision hung over Eleanor’s heart. Should Eleanor try to steer Ari in one direction or the other? Was she acting permissively by saying nothing? One way or the other, Eleanor was driving herself mad, she decided, sitting here with all these difficult dilemmas chasing through her mind. She needed to do something real. Something measured, absorbing, and optimistic.

She poured herself another cup of coffee and went into her sewing room. She had begun to make small, light quilts for the fifteen children of Beach Camp. They had so much appreciated their tees. Today she would try to finish the quilts. That would be something good she could put into the universe. Eleanor had always believed that all life was a battle between good and evil. All she could do now, as a woman of seventy, was to try her best to make some good new thing. The material was comforting and soft. She hoped it would bring comfort to the children.

—

Eleanor pushed back her chair, rose, and stretched. Her neck and back ached from bending over the sewing machine. She checked her watch—good, it was time for lunch. First, she showered and dressed and slipped on her beaded sandals.

She was standing in front of her refrigerator when her cell rang. She fished it out of her pocket.

“Hi, Mom,” Cliff said.

Like all other mothers, she could sense—whether she wanted to or not—when her child was going to give her good or bad news. “Hello, darling,” Eleanor said. “How’s your sister?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, Mom,” Cliff said sarcastically.

“Oh, dear, have I hurt your feelings?” Eleanor teased him right back.

“I’m calling to give you a quick update. I think it will cheer you up. Alicia and I are on a cruise from Boston up to the St.