see.” Betsy said this as if she couldn’t see at all, which was sort of a funny coincidence since she was taking off her glasses while she said it. Cindy fidgeted, feeling as if she should start apologizing for where she lived. Betsy had that effect on her. “One should always live somewhere that feeds the soul.”
“Right.” Cindy nodded. “Yes. One should. Always.”
She was going to say, I’ll get right on that, but it would sound sarcastic and rude. She didn’t mean to be rude, but after being required to defend her life over one lame joke and one compliment to Betsy’s taste, at this point she’d just like to know what Lucy wanted.
“Your daughter called.” Betsy leaned on her elbows, hands in prayer position, tips of her fingers pressed to her chin.
“How do you feel about speaking with her?”
“Oh, I’d like to. Lucy stayed in Princeton for the summer to work for a real estate firm. She probably misses me. Or maybe she has a message from her father.” Cindy’s voice lifted hopefully, even though she knew it was too soon.
Betsy’s eyes narrowed. “Possibly.”
“Or maybe she needs advice. Like about cooking. Or men.”
She’d rushed to deflect the topic of conversation away from Kevin, then realized her reputation as someone to consult about matters of the heart had already been irreparably tar-nished. “Or something.”
“You don’t think she’ll upset you or impede your progress here at camp? ”
88 Isabel
Sharpe
“Oh, no.” She shook her head, trying not to wonder what kind of progress could be impeded when she’d barely been here twenty-four hours. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Then I’m sure it will be too.” Betsy broke out her reassuring smile and gestured to a door on Cindy’s left, closed with a black iron latch. “The phone is through there. Have a good talk with your daughter. All I ask is that you please check in with me on the way out. If I’m not here, I’ll make sure Patrick is.”
“Yes. Okay. Thanks.” She strode toward the door, eager to sink into a familiar relationship and remind herself the world was still out there to go back to. Not that she was in a hurry to escape, because there was still so much to explore and do here. In fact, even after the disasters today, she sort of hoped Kevin wouldn’t come back for her until next week. Camp was so fun. She should have gone as a girl, when her mom and dad wanted to send her, instead of moping all summer under their displeasure at her cowardice.
Inside the pretty little bedroom, she dialed the familiar number, hoping her daughter wasn’t too busy to talk, and couldn’t help the warm swelling in her heart when Lucy answered.
“Hi, sweetheart, it’s Mom.”
“Mom. Hang on.” A rustling, then her daughter’s muted voice talking to a coworker, so mature and professional that tears sprang to Cindy’s eyes. She and Lucy had spoken only once since Kevin made his little pronouncement about being in love and leaving, and Lucy had been very upset, but more philosophical than Cindy expected. As if she’d seen this coming. As if she was almost relieved finally to have to deal with it instead of having to dread it.
As Good As It Got
89
Sometimes Cindy felt as if she lived in a different dimen-sion than most of the people she knew.
“Mom, what the hell is dad doing?”
Cindy’s tender maternal tears stopped in a hurry. “What?
I . . . don’t know, what do you—”
“He moved his bimbo into our house.”
Cindy’s gasp could probably be heard down by the water.
“What?”
“She’s living there.” Her daughter’s voice cracked in out-rage. “She answered the freaking phone when I called last night.”
“But . . . she . . . I mean she can’t be.”
“Mom.” Impatience in Lucy’s voice. She’d never been a patient child, not from infancy. Give her something new to try, if she failed the first time, instant hysteria. “I just told you she is.”
“But I mean . . . ”
“Right.” Cindy nodded. “Yes. One should. Always.”
She was going to say, I’ll get right on that, but it would sound sarcastic and rude. She didn’t mean to be rude, but after being required to defend her life over one lame joke and one compliment to Betsy’s taste, at this point she’d just like to know what Lucy wanted.
“Your daughter called.” Betsy leaned on her elbows, hands in prayer position, tips of her fingers pressed to her chin.
“How do you feel about speaking with her?”
“Oh, I’d like to. Lucy stayed in Princeton for the summer to work for a real estate firm. She probably misses me. Or maybe she has a message from her father.” Cindy’s voice lifted hopefully, even though she knew it was too soon.
Betsy’s eyes narrowed. “Possibly.”
“Or maybe she needs advice. Like about cooking. Or men.”
She’d rushed to deflect the topic of conversation away from Kevin, then realized her reputation as someone to consult about matters of the heart had already been irreparably tar-nished. “Or something.”
“You don’t think she’ll upset you or impede your progress here at camp? ”
88 Isabel
Sharpe
“Oh, no.” She shook her head, trying not to wonder what kind of progress could be impeded when she’d barely been here twenty-four hours. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Then I’m sure it will be too.” Betsy broke out her reassuring smile and gestured to a door on Cindy’s left, closed with a black iron latch. “The phone is through there. Have a good talk with your daughter. All I ask is that you please check in with me on the way out. If I’m not here, I’ll make sure Patrick is.”
“Yes. Okay. Thanks.” She strode toward the door, eager to sink into a familiar relationship and remind herself the world was still out there to go back to. Not that she was in a hurry to escape, because there was still so much to explore and do here. In fact, even after the disasters today, she sort of hoped Kevin wouldn’t come back for her until next week. Camp was so fun. She should have gone as a girl, when her mom and dad wanted to send her, instead of moping all summer under their displeasure at her cowardice.
Inside the pretty little bedroom, she dialed the familiar number, hoping her daughter wasn’t too busy to talk, and couldn’t help the warm swelling in her heart when Lucy answered.
“Hi, sweetheart, it’s Mom.”
“Mom. Hang on.” A rustling, then her daughter’s muted voice talking to a coworker, so mature and professional that tears sprang to Cindy’s eyes. She and Lucy had spoken only once since Kevin made his little pronouncement about being in love and leaving, and Lucy had been very upset, but more philosophical than Cindy expected. As if she’d seen this coming. As if she was almost relieved finally to have to deal with it instead of having to dread it.
As Good As It Got
89
Sometimes Cindy felt as if she lived in a different dimen-sion than most of the people she knew.
“Mom, what the hell is dad doing?”
Cindy’s tender maternal tears stopped in a hurry. “What?
I . . . don’t know, what do you—”
“He moved his bimbo into our house.”
Cindy’s gasp could probably be heard down by the water.
“What?”
“She’s living there.” Her daughter’s voice cracked in out-rage. “She answered the freaking phone when I called last night.”
“But . . . she . . . I mean she can’t be.”
“Mom.” Impatience in Lucy’s voice. She’d never been a patient child, not from infancy. Give her something new to try, if she failed the first time, instant hysteria. “I just told you she is.”
“But I mean . . . ”
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