The View From Alameda Island. Robyn Carr

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      Eighty-five-year-old Adele, Brad’s mother, arrived in her town car, leased for the day complete with driver. She looked...rich. Rich and pinched and miserable. Beth, Chip and the boys arrived and it was all Beth could do to keep them from falling on the hors d’oeuvres like locusts. Ruby arrived and Lauren fell into her arms. “How are you holding up, girl?” Ruby asked.

      “I’m fine,” she said. “How’s Ted?”

      “The same,” Ruby said. “I’m not going to stay long, I’m sure you and Cassie understand.”

      “Absolutely. Let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

      “Thank you, but we’re getting by just fine.”

      Ruby’s husband had had a stroke and he was coming along fairly well, home from rehab now. But there was no getting around the facts—he’d taken a life-threatening blow and at seventy-five, progress came slowly and Ruby felt the need to stay close.

      She could not visit her troubles or plans on Ruby.

      This was Ruby’s third marriage. The first took up nine years and brought her two sons. The second was very brief and painful, Like a woman who had learned nothing on her first terrible match, she had said. A few years later she married Ted, with whom she shared a warm and compatible relationship. It was Ruby who had said to her, Do what you can to try to make your marriage work. If you don’t try, you’ll have regrets. But listen to me—don’t wait too long or you’ll find yourself a trapped old woman with no options and a beastly old man who has perfected abuse. Someday one of you will be sick, dependent on the other. That’s hard enough when there’s love.

      She hoped she hadn’t waited too long.

      “I’ll stop by and see Ted soon,” Lauren said.

      “He’d like that,” she said. “Everything looks so beautiful, as usual. You really know how to throw a party.”

      “There sure have been enough of them, haven’t there?”

      “A good many,” Ruby said.

      The Delaneys were known for their wonderful parties—with delicious food and good company—if you liked a lot of medical people and a few others. There was always an extraordinary atmosphere. There were plastic water lilies holding votive candle holders floating around in the pool, classical music, a complete uniformed wait staff circulating with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. The great room doors were open to the patio and the party flowed through the house. A plentiful buffet was set up in the dining room complete with a waiter slicing prime rib. The caterer had set up a series of round tables and chairs on the massive patio.

      Over the years Brad and Lauren had hosted brunches, dinners, cocktail parties, summer pool parties, retirement parties, even a couple of wedding receptions.

      For a moment she felt a touch of melancholy. She’d done a good job under difficult circumstances. Only once had she invited the people she worked with to a party exclusively for them and Brad had charmed them. Afterward, when they’d all left, he complained for at least a day. He didn’t like a one of them.

      Their entertaining was mostly Brad’s suggestion. “I think we should have a Christmas party this year—we’ll invite the office staff, a few friends, family. Let’s say sixty people. Can you get it done?”

      She never said no. She’d hire a piano player for the grand piano that occupied the foyer, sit down with the caterer, have Brad’s secretary work up some nice invitations, put together a guest list for him to review. He’d look it over and invariably add names or say, “Adults only, all right,” upon seeing her nephews on the list.

      “But it’s Christmas!”

      “They can come to Christmas but children don’t come to fancy cocktail parties and pour punch on the carpet!”

      Just then she saw Sylvie Emerson walking toward her, Andy trailing behind her. Brad always invited the Emersons.

      “Sylvie! How thoughtful of you to come!”

      “How could I miss a chance to congratulate our future lawyer,” she said, pulling a card from her large purse. “And to say this—I realize you’ve been very busy with all this going on, but when things settle a bit, I’ll be waiting for the phone call about lunch.”

      “Absolutely,” Lauren said. “I’m going to help Cassie get settled back east, then I would love to get together.”

      “Perfect. Take me to the graduate,” Sylvie said. “We’re not staying long. We have somewhere to be a bit later.”

      “Of course. And I’d like you to meet my sister and brother-in-law. He’s an Oakland police officer and the daughter of his late friend was a recipient of one of your scholarships.”

      “Oh yes, please! It’s funny that Brad never mentioned that connection,” she said.

      And Lauren wondered if Brad even knew.

      The second Brad noticed Sylvie and Andy, he rushed to them and usurped Lauren’s place as escort. She let them go, confident that Sylvie would insist on meeting Beth and Chip and congratulating Cassie. She knew she’d have a chance to thank Sylvie again before she left.

      Lauren had become a master entertainer. And she’d be more than happy to give it up. She looked forward to things that Brad would mock. Maybe a book club that met one evening a month, sometimes at her less auspicious home. Or hosting a baby shower for a young co-worker, somewhere a little less intimidating than the Delaney manse. She just wanted to be calm and comfortable; she wanted a grandbaby to take care of sometimes. Would her daughters invite her into the delivery room?

      That was years away, she thought. But then when the party was ending, when all the toasts had been made to Cassie, when the brandy and cigars had been indulged by Brad and a few of his cronies, Cassie asked to speak to her alone. She was holding her boyfriend Jeremy’s hand. Oh no! Lauren thought. What’s this?

      “Mom, I have some wonderful news,” Cassidy said. “Jeremy has decided to come to Boston.”

      “Huh?” she said oh so eloquently.

      Cassie laughed. “He’s decided to transfer to Boston University for his master’s program.”

      “What? But haven’t you started already? At Berkeley?”

      “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I won’t get in until after the first of the year but that’s good. I’ll work and get a leg up on my research. We’ll settle in before we’re both deep in our programs.”

      “Settle...in...?” she echoed.

      Cassie laughed. “We’re going to live together. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me.” She grabbed Jeremy’s hand. “I honestly didn’t know how I was going to stand the distance—each of us on a different coast.”

      “Are you...? No, you’re not getting married.”

      “Not yet, no,” Cassie said. “The subject has come up and we’re talking about marriage. But we agree that law school and his СКАЧАТЬ