Change of Life. Leigh Riker

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СКАЧАТЬ so Maggie wouldn’t point out that Nora hadn’t phoned last week. “How are you?”

      “How else would I be? I’m bored. I watch CNN all day. At six o’clock I switch to Fox News. My balanced diet of current events,” she said. “Big whoop.” Her tone changed in a heartbeat from dry to sad. “If I watch enough TV, it helps me—a little—to bear up after losing your father.”

      Nora zipped along in the rush-hour traffic, the AC on high, sipping at her Frappuccino while speaking into her hands-free phone. She envisioned her mother’s graying hair, corkscrewed into the unflattering style Maggie still preferred. Nora could almost see her mother’s baggy house dress and her white ankle socks scrunched down into the heels of her worn-over, laced-up shoes. Like some Ice Age mummy, in forty years of widow-hood Maggie hadn’t changed.

      “Daddy died when I was ten.” Nora willed herself to find the patience she had lost earlier in the day. She threaded her way between an SUV and a semitrailer rig on the narrow stretch of Route 98 that led through Destin. “We both miss him. But isn’t it time you got past that, and went on with your life?”

      “Life? I’m seventy-five years old,” Maggie informed her as if Nora didn’t know.

      Nora’s pulse hitched. “Are you feeling all right? I told you to make an appointment with your cardiologist. If you want me to, I can take you.” It wasn’t that far from Destin to the Commonwealth of Virginia, but sometimes just far enough for Nora’s peace of mind. Now she felt worried. She could block out the time on her schedule, even cancel a few appointments if she had to, to spend a couple of days with her mother. Take care of business, meaning her mother’s health.

      With luck, maybe Maggie would welcome Nora’s company.

      Nora doubted that. She envied Savannah, who had spent most of her girlhood summers in Richmond with Maggie. To this day, she and her grandmother were close, and Nora wished she could duplicate their relationship.

      Maggie snorted. “Why bother with the doctor? That man books months ahead. By the time I really need him, I won’t need him,” she insisted.

      Nora bit back a sigh. No wonder they didn’t get along. Like Maggie, she didn’t relish change in her life (take today, for instance), but she’d had her share. Nora was a survivor, and she remained an optimist. She blew a stray hair from her forehead, then counted to ten before she took a last sip of her Frappuccino. “If you don’t want to see your regular doctor…” Nora hesitated before adding, “then come visit me. Better yet—” she took the plunge “—live with me. As soon as you get here we’ll get you a complete workup.”

      This was an old argument, and Maggie didn’t accept it now.

      “I don’t want to move to Destin. I have plenty of friends here. I refuse to become a burden on my children.”

      Child, Nora corrected in silence. Her only brother lived in Hawaii, and Hank Jr. had made it clear years ago that their mother was Nora’s responsibility. His interests seemed to consist of a collection of surfboards, the highest seas he could find, and endless women with the kind of deeply tanned skin that wouldn’t age well. He hadn’t held a steady job in years, unlike Nora, who had been working since she was fifteen. And seeing to Maggie’s future rather than her own.

      “When it’s my time, I’ll go.” Maggie didn’t mean the move to Destin.

      Nora ignored that. She didn’t want to think about losing Maggie. She slammed her empty cup into the holder on her console, steering a path with her other hand on the wheel through rush-hour traffic past the posh Silver Sands Mall. Overhead the sky was a clear, brilliant blue, and outside the car she knew the temperature still hovered in the eighties. It was too hot to open the windows, but Nora had the urge to inhale the bracing salt sea air along with the ever-present humidity. “The weather’s nicer here,” she pointed out. “Don’t you know how I worry about you alone in that house?”

      “It’s my home,” Maggie said stiffly. She had rarely left it in fifty years.

      “Yes, and it has three flights of narrow stairs and an outdated kitchen with faulty wiring. What if there was a fire?”

      “My problem,” Maggie insisted. “I should think you have enough to handle. What about Savannah, living with that man before they’re even married? In my day, that would be a scandal. And then there’s Browning, who may have a fancy-sounding job with the government—he’s a spy, if you ask me—yet he hasn’t a clue about settling down. How many times has he ‘fallen in love’ in the past six months?”

      Nora sighed. “More times than I can count.”

      She swung her white Volvo convertible, the top of which was up today to shade her from the sun, off the two-lane road onto a side street that connected to her subdivision. And made one more try. “Please listen to reason. I’m your daughter. Your only daughter.”

      Maggie’s tone hardened. “I hate Florida. What would I do among that bunch of leather-skinned sunbathers in retirement? They look like alligators. Listen to me, Nora Marianne Scarborough Pride, I am still your mother.”

      After a few more minutes when neither of them budged from their usual positions, Nora said a wistful goodbye, then hung up, feeling frustrated. Well, that had gone badly, which, considering the rest of her day, shouldn’t have come as a surprise. First Starr, then Mark, now Maggie. Nora hadn’t even mentioned her troubles, after all.

      Thank goodness her day was at an end.

      By the time Nora reached home in her quiet, off-the-beaten-path neighborhood, she felt drained. The sight of her tidy, one-story house of rosy brick and the winding stone path to her door didn’t help for once. The Frappuccino hadn’t restored her spirits, either, or her energy, despite its triple kick of caffeine, and neither had her talk with Maggie. Still, Nora smiled as she opened her door.

      Before she stepped inside, she heard familiar doggy footsteps. As always, Daisy greeted her in the foyer. Nora felt an immediate burst of vitality and a love that was both given and received. Several years ago, after Savannah had moved out and then Browning, Nora had adopted the silky golden retriever through a rescue organization. In truth, she felt they had saved each other. Unlike Maggie, Nora no longer entered an empty house. And who needed a man? Even her ex-husband had never been as affectionate or as good a companion.

      “Hey, girl. Sorry I’m late. Anybody interesting call today?”

      She dropped her keys and bag, then bent to hug the dog; Daisy wriggled with delight. Nora kissed the top of her head, then waited until Daisy bumped her wet nose against the hallway table that stood under a gold-framed mirror. It was part of their daily ritual, and dutifully Nora opened its small drawer to retrieve a bag of beef-flavored treats. Who had trained whom? she wondered with another smile.

      The pleasure with which Daisy munched on the canine equivalent of a Dove chocolate bar almost wiped out Nora’s memory of her day. With a heartfelt groan of relief, she kicked off her Ferragamo pumps. She padded into the living room, Daisy right behind her, and reminded herself that, their differences aside, Maggie was indeed still her mother. And Nora did love her.

      For the few seconds until her jaw had unclenched, she allowed herself to take in the tasteful taupe and gold and cream furnishings of her living room. Hers. She’d done a bang-up job with its simple but elegant decor, including the rich, darker shade she’d chosen for the walls, and tonight, especially, she needed its welcome sanctuary. It even smelled like home, part discreet potpourri from the bowls scattered throughout the СКАЧАТЬ