Man Of The Family

AS SOON AS Griffin shut the front door, her cell phone rang with a melody from Porgy and Bess. Why hadn’t she changed it? Nate was no longer the man she would love until she died.

Sunny ignored his call...again.

Nate had made his choice. Now she was making hers. A clean break seemed the wisest course, at least until they had to deal with selling the apartment.

She wandered into the kitchen. A quick look out the windows showed a dark line of clouds heading this way, but the weather was the farthest thing from her mind. She sank on to a chair at the kitchen table and replayed her conversation with Griffin. Had she come on too strong?

She really had to stop acting like a lawyer on billable hours.

Her father was nowhere in sight, but her mother was at the sink, clattering dishes on the drain board and muttering to herself.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” This being her standard answer when something was, Sunny didn’t even blink. Her mother would pry every last bit of information from someone else, but getting her to open up was always a hard, if not impossible, task.

“You might as well tell me,” she said.

Her mother banged a pot into the open dishwasher.

“You didn’t want to talk about Nate when you got home,” she reminded Sunny. “Now I should rattle on about something that doesn’t need talking about?”

“Get it off your chest, Mom.” She paused. “Why were you and Dad fighting?”

To her surprise her mother didn’t try to pretend otherwise.

With a shaken sigh she looked out the windows at the gathering storm, then turned from the sink, drying her hands on a towel before she joined Sunny at the table. “I think we should move. Your father doesn’t.”

Speechless, Sunny stared at her.

“Sell the house?” she finally echoed. “But why? I grew up here. It’s the only home I remember.” The place she needed now, even when that meant sleeping on the old sofa bed. “You love this house,” she said. So do I.

Her mother looked down at her perfectly manicured hands.

“Mom, you’re a homebody. You enjoy spending time here and fine-tuning this room or that. Only Dad’s den has been off-limits.”

Her mother gazed around the homey kitchen with tears in her eyes.

“We bought this house when you were seven, and we’ve been here a quarter century.”

“Yes, and it’s still my home, too.” Soon it would be the only one she’d have.

Thunder rumbled outside, making her mother flinch. “You know about the hurricane that took off our roof. Coming from the airport you must have seen the destruction all over town.”

“It was pouring then. I could barely see through the windshield.” Even if she could, she would have tried to avoid taking in the old neighborhoods.

“That was enough for me,” her mother said. “But some of our friends, you remember the Richardsons, lost everything. And I heard Laura’s mother needs to replace her entire roof.”

At the mention of her friend’s name, Sunny stiffened.

“They all lived closer to the beach than we do,” Sunny’s mom said, “but I think we should put the house on the market while it still has value.” She glanced at the ceiling. Above was the partially ruined second floor and Sunny’s old room with water marks running down the walls, but...

“As if you’ve never weathered a storm before.” Sunny couldn’t quite take the idea in. “Where would you go if you did sell? I mean, not that I think you should...”

Her mother’s face had clouded up.

“You’re on his side?”

“Mom, I know we have our differences—” one of them Sunny’s long-ago move to New York “—but I’m on both your sides.”

A twinge of guilt raced through her. Or was she simply making sure she had a place to hide? To lick her wounds?

Her mother scoffed. “You’re a prosecutor. You always take a side.” She sniffed again. “The Richardsons have gone north to live near their son and grandchildren.” Which served to remind Sunny of another bone of contention. Her mother never missed an opportunity to remind her of the grandbabies she still yearned for. “They’re not coming back,” she said as if the Richardsons had died. “I miss them, but I think they’re safer there.”

“Hurricanes can hit New England, too,” Sunny pointed out. A clap of thunder brought her upright in her chair. “In the time I’ve lived in New York, we’ve had ice storms, floods, a few blizzards, even a mild earthquake. I wouldn’t say it’s that much safer.”

But her parents’ argument still nagged at her. “My childhood—and Chris’s—was practically idyllic.” Sunny took a deep breath before she could continue. “Good schools, a big yard to play in, lots of birthday parties, long days at the beach, friends, and always the certainty that our family, unlike so many others, would stay intact.” If her mother’s need to keep things on an even keel had sometimes troubled her, Sunny had always felt loved. She’d had her dad’s more laid-back nature for a buffer.

Now her mother seized on the word Sunny wished she hadn’t said.

“Speaking of friends, you should call Laura while you’re here. She still lives in town, you know. I haven’t spoken to her mother in ages but—”

Sunny’s aching back hurt even worse. She was so rigid, her neck was burning. “I doubt we’d have much in common, Mom. We haven’t for a long time.”

“But you were such good friends. What’s the harm? Call her, Sunny.”

“I don’t think so,” she said at last. This was one of the not-so-easy parts about coming back. She gave her mom a smile that didn’t quite work. “Once the roof is fixed, you’ll forget about selling the house. And Dad will find some new interest to pursue.” The whole family called him their Project Man. “Besides, if you left here, you’d be leaving Chris and Bronwyn behind. Not to mention those grandbabies they’ll give you.”

She half smiled. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

And with that, the subject was closed. For now. Sunny could already see her mother filing their talk away in some far corner of her mind where all the bad things stayed. Another minute, and she’d be bustling about again, planning what to have for dinner or starting to bake brownies.

“By the way, why was Griffin here this morning? He didn’t even come into the kitchen.” She paused. “I didn’t realize you knew each other except from Chris’s wedding.”

Sunny almost groaned. “There was an incident the other day at Bron’s school.” She explained about the stolen watch and pulled it out of her pocket. “He returned this—but I think Amanda should have done that instead and apologized.”

Her mother frowned, the worry lines between her brows deeper than Sunny remembered. “Such a nice girl,” she said. “I can’t believe she’d steal from you.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure she did.”

Her mother sighed. “I know Griffin is trying his best, but Amanda really needs her mother.”

Sunny couldn’t help asking. “Where is she?”

“No one knows. Apparently—and I hate to gossip—once she hit the Boston city line, there was no further trace of her. I know he’s tried to track Rachel but without any luck.” She added, “And as for Amanda—that poor dear.”

That hadn’t been Sunny’s impression, but she resisted the urge to say so. To her, Amanda was like one of the storm clouds outside. “I think she needs more than her mother.” She sighed. “Griffin didn’t welcome my input, though.”

“I’ll talk to Amanda,” her mother said, and Sunny could all but see her making a mental note. “There must be something we can do.”