Part 36 (1/2)
Hugh skimmed the piece. ”Oliver James?”
”His wife is at the yarn shop all the time, or used to be.” Dana was stunned. ”Lately, she's hardly come in. She must have known this was coming. What do you think he did?”
”Art fraud usually involves pa.s.sing fakes off as original art.” Hugh looked down at Dana. ”Have I met the wife?”
”Her name is Corinne. You'd remember her if you had. This is amazing,” Dana said, but couldn't quite gloat. She remembered thinking Corinne seemed fragile. ”Her husband, indicted? She must be dying.”
”Will you call her?”
”I don't even know her number. They live over on Greendale.”
”Big mansions there,” Hugh remarked.
”Uh-huh.” Big mansions, big lawns, big cars, which went to show that big money didn't always buy peace of mind. Dana was trying to imagine what Corinne was feeling when there was a knock on the door. Susan Johnson, David's ex-wife, was there.
Susan looked harder than she was. Her hair was long and straight, and she was dressed in black-yoga pants, tank top, cropped hoodie, espadrilles. Back at David's, there would be a large black pouch filled with necessities. By contrast, her smile was lighthearted and bright. She was definitely Ali's mom.
”Susan,” Dana said, opening the screen. ”I didn't know you were in town.”
”Well, David kept saying Ali didn't want to go back to New York, and the situation wasn't getting better. John and I figured we'd drive up to defuse things. I mean, she's supposed to return this week.”
”Is she still balking?”
”Not since we figured out the problem.”
Hugh had joined them. ”The school?”
”Totally. I mean, it's a fabulous school, the absolute best, which is why I was thrilled when John was able to pull strings and get her in. Then David called, and we decided to get some stats on the place. And, yeah, they're not as heavy on minorities as I'd like. Ali must have felt it when we visited this spring, like, out of place. Someone has to break the color barrier, but maybe my daughter isn't ready. The school she's been at is a good one, too, and she loves it.” Susan smiled. ”So she's going back there, and is very excited about seeing her friends.”
”I'm glad,” Dana said.
”Me, too. I should have realized there might be a problem. It just didn't occur to me,” she said. ”Anyway, I wanted to thank you both. You've been good for Ali.”
”She's been good for us,” Hugh said.
Susan began walking backward, eyes now on Dana. ”I need the name of a yarn store in the city. She already told me that.”
”I'll get you one.” Dana waved. When Susan jogged back toward David's, she turned to Hugh. ”That's a little scary.”
”Susan not antic.i.p.ating the problem? Very scary. She's smart and she's aware, like we pride ourselves on being, but who's to say we wouldn't make a similar mistake?”
”I guess there are ways to prevent it-do our homework, get all the facts before pa.s.sing judgment.”
”You sound like a lawyer,” Hugh remarked, but he wasn't smiling. ”It kills me to think of Lizzie on the outside looking in, but it's bound to happen. Some circles are still very closed.”
”All kids experience that, Hugh. It's part of growing up.”
”But race makes it different. And it involves my child.”
”We can't protect her all the time. She'll have to learn that prejudice exists.”
”Maybe things will be different by the time she's grown up.”
If it was a question, Dana didn't know the answer. She did know that she shared Hugh's fear. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her face to his neck.
Hugh definitely loved Lizzie. This was one good thing.
Eaton was sitting in front of a blank screen when Dorothy appeared at the library door.
”I'm going out,” she announced.
”Where to?” he asked, trying to be casual in his curiosity. Lately, she was a loose cannon.
”I don't know. I'll decide when I get there.”
Let it go, he told himself. But he couldn't. ”That doesn't make sense, you know.”
She drew in her chin. ”Does it have to?”
”It always did. You're an organized woman.”
”That was when I filled my day doing ch.o.r.es for my husband. I don't have to be organized when I'm doing things for myself.”
”Which you are now, after finding that your husband has feet of clay.”
”If that's a reference to race, I reject it flat out. I'm doing things for me because I'm tired of putting you first. You don't deserve it-and if you think that's a reference to color, you're sorely mistaken.”
”Dorothy,” he said with some pique. She had become an independent-minded woman at a time when he needed his old, familiar wife.
”What?”
He didn't know where to begin. ”My book's coming out in a week. And did you know that my brother called earlier?”
That gave her visible pause. ”No.”
”He told me to keep my mouth shut about what I learned.”
”Why does that not surprise me?”
”Do you think I should?”
She opened her mouth to give a quick retort, then closed it again. ”Are you asking my opinion?”
”Yes.”
She thought for a minute. ”Would you please repeat the question?”