Part 20 (1/2)
”Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Laxton said. ”I had heard she was ill but I didn't know it was that critical. Of course, I would be happy to help you. Could you come for tea tomorrow?”
”That would be very nice,” Meredith agreed. ”What time?”
”Four?”
”Perfect.”
”I will look forward to it,” Mrs. Laxton said, and clicked off.
Mission completed, Meredith slowly put the receiver back in the cradle. She picked up the insurance claim papers she'd filled out earlier and tucked them into her briefcase. It was seven. Time to go to the hospital.
Forty minutes later, she entered her mother's room. There was no change in her condition, though her mother's skin looked pasty and her face seemed to have shrunk even more.
Still, she felt as if her mother knew she was there. She ignored the nurse after greeting her. Instead she talked to her mother. She didn't say anything about her own problems. ”It's a pretty day, and the symphony is holding a concert tonight. I know how much you like music. I'll bring a CD player next time.
”I'm going to tea with Mrs. Robert Laxton. Remember Pamela Cannon? Of course, you do.” She paused. ”I wonder if you know how much I hated those teas you made me attend. I know your friends always looked at me and wondered how I could be your daughter.” She had been expected to be the perfect lady, but she had always been bored with the talk of this party and that, and the gossip that flowed so easily.
”I used to look at you,” she continued. ”And your face was always so attentive, but I always sensed you were somewhere else.” The memory had never been so clear as it was now. Perhaps because she had never probed beyond her mother's facade before.
The hurt had always been too strong. The gulf between them too wide. Now she felt her mother's reticence wasn't due to disappointment in her daughter, but a wound so deep inside her that she had closed herself off. Until Meredith knew more about that wound, she could never decipher the puzzle.
”I'm going to find my sister for you. And for me. I keep thinking that if I do that, you'll wake up. But you have to fight. You have to keep fighting.” She looked down at her hands. They had curled into tight fists. The area behind her eyes squeezed. She fought back tears.
Later.
Not now.
Carrying her mother's yearbook in her briefcase, Meredith knocked on the Laxton door promptly at four. The door was opened by an attractive woman who looked far younger than her early fifties.
”h.e.l.lo,” she said. ”I'm delighted to meet Marguerite's daughter. I'm so sorry to hear about her illness.”
”Thank you for seeing me,” Meredith said.
Mrs. Laxton led the way into a lovely sunroom. ”If you will wait here, I'll tell Enid to bring the tea.”
Meredith looked around. It was a lovely room, the walls all gla.s.s and the interior filled with flowering plants. The windows looked out over a garden highlighted by a fountain.
In seconds, Mrs. Laxton returned, a woman in a maid's uniform following with a tray laden with a tea service and plates of small sandwiches and even scones and cream. She poured the tea into delicate china cups.
”Thank you,” Meredith said, taking a cup in both hands.
She waited until the maid left. Then she turned to her hostess. ”Thank you for seeing me.”
”You're welcome. Now tell me how Marguerite is.”
”She has cancer and is in a coma. I'm afraid ...”
Mrs. Laxton leaned over and patted her hand. ”I'm so sorry. What hospital is she in?”
Meredith told her, then said, ”I hoped you could tell me about when she was in school.”
”Or course, you know she left before graduation. An opportunity in Europe. After that, I didn't see much of her until the last few years when we served together on the board of the Symphony Guild. She had changed so much.”
”What do you mean?”
”She was, well, a little headstrong--a rebel, you might say--but now she's a pillar of the community. I never would have thought it,” Mrs. Laxton said. ”I hope you don't mind my saying that, dear.”
Her mother? Her very proper mother? But she was discovering how little she really knew about her mother.
”Can you tell me more?”
”It's not really for me to say.”
”Please.”
”She was always breaking rules. Staying out past curfew. She liked to go to ... well, undesirable places. Then her father sent her to Europe. There were whispers of an unsuitable liaison.”
”Do you know who it was?”
”No. We weren't that close. Now tell me about yourself, my dear. I saw in the paper that you had been attacked. I hope you weren't hurt.”
”Mostly scared.”
”Crime these days is just terrible. I won't go anywhere at night without my Robert. I don't even like going out alone during the day. And the police? They don't really care. A friend of mine was burglarized a month ago. The police didn't even take fingerprints.”
Meredith tried to steer the conversation back to her mother. She handed her hostess the yearbook. ”I wondered if you could tell me the married names of some of your cla.s.smates.”
”Certainly. I was hostess of our thirtieth reunion a few years back. I'll get my list. You enjoy your tea.”
When Mrs. Laxton returned, she carried several sheets of paper. ”I copied them on my husband's copier, so you may take them.”
”Do you know who was closest to my mother?”
”Lulu. Lulu Green Starnes now. The two were always together.”
”Does she live here?”
Mrs. Laxton nodded. ”I had a hard time finding her. She's a widow. Her address is on the list, though she didn't come to the reunion. Out of town, I believe.”
”Thank you,” Meredith said, rising. ”You've been a tremendous help.”
”You are very welcome. If you need anything else ...”
”I'll call,” Meredith said.
Meredith returned to the office. Sarah and Becky were still there. Using Mrs. Laxton's addresses and phone numbers, she called Lulu Starnes. No one answered. She left a message.
Meredith had never heard her mother mention anyone named Lulu. She was sure she would have remembered a name like that. It was unusual enough, especially among her mother's crowd.
Sarah was having no luck in finding a birth certificate. There simply wasn't one in the state of Tennessee that had her mother's name on it. She'd also tried Louisiana and Mississippi. No birth certificate issued for a girl born to Marguerite Thibadeau. But Sarah did have names of doctors and hospitals in the area near her mother's aunt's home.