Part 17 (1/2)
Eaton sighed. ”Are you still annoyed that I won't go visit Hugh?”
”Well, he did call.”
”And was no help at all. He's asking the same questions you are, at a time when I don't want to think about it. Dorothy, I have a book due out in a little over three weeks. Have you made it clear to the events coordinator that I want hors d'oeuvres pa.s.sed at the book party?”
”Yes, dear.”
”What about the invitations? Have they gone out?”
”They were mailed yesterday. I've told you these things, Eaton.”
Eaton took a breath in a bid for patience. ”If you've told me and I haven't heard, it's because I have other things on my mind. I've been booked to appear on national television, and you can be sure I'll be questioned about my family. They'll want me to vouch for the things I've written.”
”Vouch for what things?” Dorothy scolded. ”You wrote this book well before little Elizabeth was born. No one will hold it against you if she isn't listed on an ancestral chart, and there would be absolutely no need for you to include a chart of Dana's family. But forget the book,” she said with the dismissive wave of a hand. ”I'm not talking about the book. I'm talking about our son and his child. I want to go over and visit.”
Eaton looked up in surprise. ”Fine. Go.”
”I want you with me. It won't be the same if I go alone. They'll think something's wrong.”
Eaton said, ”Something is wrong.”
”Then do something about it,” Dorothy cried. ”Hire an investigator. Change your will. Put the Vineyard property in trust so that she can't get her hands on it. Either you accept the baby or you don't. Don't you see the damage that's being done while you vacillate?” She glared at the clock on the wall, then reached for her purse. ”I have to go to the market. If we're having the Emerys here for hors d'oeuvres before the theater, I need to buy food.”
Eaton stared after her as she went out the door. ”Drive carefully,” he finally said out of sheer habit.
Dorothy kept both hands on the wheel and her lips pressed together. She didn't need Eaton telling her to drive carefully. She drove carefully all on her own-had been doing so for forty-nine years-and had a spotless record to show for it, which was more than Eaton could say. He had two accidents on his slate-one from a winter-blizzard skid, the other from a ten-car chain pile-up on the expressway. She could blame the first on the weather, but the second would have been preventable if he had left the requisite number of car lengths between his own car and the one in front of him.
No, she didn't need Eaton to tell her how to drive.
Nor, she decided, did she need him to tell her whom to call and whom not to. Taking one hand from the wheel, she flipped open her cell phone and thumbed in Hugh's number. The phone rang several times, and then Dana's recorded message came on.
With both hands on the wheel again, Dorothy negotiated the local roads to the supermarket. She put on her blinker, about to pull into the parking lot, when she had another thought and drove on past. Three minutes later, she parked in front of a local boutique that radiated yellow, orange, and pink. It was a small place, owned by two young women. She had discovered it quite by accident when she had needed a last-minute bread-and-b.u.t.ter gift to take along for a weekend visit to friends.
She went inside, smiled at the owner, and said firmly, ”I want one of your mother-and-daughter sets for my daughter-in-law and her brand-new baby. What's the most unusual thing you have?” Dana liked bright and unusual. Dana could wear bright and unusual.
Soon Dorothy walked back out with a package wrapped and ribboned with the same yellow, orange, and pink that had initially drawn her to the store. Satisfied, she skipped the supermarket and pulled into the smaller lot of a gourmet cheese and wine shop. Inside, she bought a wedge of cheese, several cracker selections, and-defiant still-a dozen each of the home-cooked coconut-crusted chicken fingers and skewers of beef satay. So Eaton wouldn't get his favorite mini-quiches from the recipe she had been making for years. These other appetizers were every bit as good, without demanding an hour of her time in the kitchen. Present them on elegant serving-ware, she reasoned, and their guests wouldn't know the difference.
Satisfied for the second time in thirty minutes, she returned to the car. Spotting the bright package in the pa.s.senger's seat, she started the engine and let it idle while she tried Hugh's number again.
This time, Dana answered.
For a split second, Dorothy wavered. She didn't normally do things that she knew would upset Eaton, and it wasn't a matter of obedience, but respect. His instincts were good, and his heart was usually in the right place. The problem was, she didn't know where his heart was now.
So, boldly, she said, ”Dana, this is Dorothy.” She usually called herself ”Mom,” but Dana preferred ”Dorothy,” and maybe she had a point. ”How are you?”
There was a pause, then a cautious ”I'm fine. How are you?”
”Very well, thank you,” Dorothy said as though nothing was wrong. ”Tell me how the baby is.”
”She's adorable,” Dana said in a lighter tone. ”I swear she just smiled. I know it's too early, that it's probably gas, but it did look pretty.”
”How is she eating?”
”Very well. I think we've found a rhythm.”
”What about sleeping?”
”Uh, still a ways to go with that. She's a little confused between day and night.”
”Do you keep the light off when you're with her at night?”
”I use a nightlight.”
”Good. There should be no playing, then. Let her sleep nighttimes as long as she will, but wake her every four hours during the day.” Hearing her own words, she added quickly, ”Actually, those are just suggestions. I had my turn, my son Robert always says when I start telling him how to handle his children.”
There was a pause, then Dana said, ”I'm open to suggestions. The only thing I can't change is Lizzie's color.”
”Are you calling her Lizzie, then? That's very sweet for a little girl. 'Elizabeth' is just a beautiful name, and she may grow up to insist that we all call her that, but 'Lizzie' works for a baby. Funny, Robert was always a Robert, never a Bob to anyone but Hugh. How is Hugh doing, by the way? Is he helping you with the baby? Did I ever tell you that Eaton never changed a diaper? Not a one, but then, none of his friends did, either. Back then, it was really up to us moms to do things like that, because we were full-time mothers-not that there's anything wrong with not being a full-time mother.” She paused, concerned by Dana's silence. ”Are you there, dear?”
”I'm here,” Dana said.
”I would like to come over,” Dorothy announced. ”I picked up a little something for you and Lizzie, and I'd like to see her. She's probably changed a lot, even in four days.”
”Not her color, Dorothy. You need to know that.”
”I know it,” Dorothy acknowledged quietly. Then, because that didn't seem like enough to say on the subject, she added, ”I'm not trying to deny her heritage, because I've been thinking of little else for the past few days. But that baby just happens to be my grandchild.”
”There are people who aren't sure about that,” Dana said, and Dorothy felt ashamed. The business at the hospital that first day would haunt her always.
”When one suffers a shock-not suffers, experiences a shock, it's very easy to lash out. I do believe that Lizzie is my grandchild.”
”And Eaton?”
”I'm speaking for myself now.”
”Does he know you've called?”
”No,” Dorothy said before it occurred to her to lie, then backpedaled, ”but that's neither here nor there, because I want to see my grandchild. Tomorrow isn't a good day, but Monday would be.” Eaton would be in his office and wouldn't be any the wiser if she told him she was going into Boston to shop. ”Would that work for you?”
”I'll be at the yarn store on Monday. My grandmother broke her foot, so I'm trying to help there.”
”Broke her foot? Oh dear. I'm sorry to hear that. I hope it isn't a bad break?”
”No, but it means she can't move around as easily as she'd like.”
”But what about the baby?” Dorothy asked. ”Who's with her while you're at the yarn shop? Now, that's something I could help with. I could babysit while you fill in for Eleanor.”