“Open it, dear. You can decipher the results better than I can. But wait. Before you do, let’s have some pie. I’ve made fresh peach cobbler.”
Caroline got two plates from the cupboard. Abbey noticed the delicate pink floral design around the edge. Caroline cut a generous slice from the pie and slipped it onto one of them.
“Your plates are beautiful,” she said. “Are they antique?”
Caroline offered a wide smile. “Yes. They’re my mother’s. I used them as a girl.”
“What was your childhood like?” Abbey asked, watching the way Caroline managed to get the slices of pie onto the plates without breaking the crust at all. She was a skilled hostess, but Abbey knew that about her. Caroline was the epitome of grace. She was polite, gentle in her movements, reserved in her comments, and she could entertain amazingly well. Even her home was bright and clean, no evidence whatsoever of aging—no extra dust, none of the smells or sights she’d encountered when she’d cared for people in the past. Caroline added a fork to each plate. Abbey picked up the two plates and set them on the table that was still covered in the cream tablecloth Abbey had bought when she’d decorated.
Caroline smiled, acknowledging her question, but in true form, she wasn’t planning to answer until they were comfortably sitting at the table. “How about some coffee first?” she asked. “I just brewed some for myself. I made an entire pot. There’s plenty.” Abbey nodded and Caroline pulled a shiny silver creamer from the fridge and set it on a silver tray. Then, from the cupboard, she got a matching sugar bowl. She placed them on the table with two spoons, their handles intricately designed in silver roses.
Once the coffee was served and they were seated, Caroline very courteously placed her hands in her lap, leaving her food and drink untouched. “You asked about my childhood,” she said with a smile. “That is why I love you so much, Abbey. You’re the first person to ask.”
“Really?”
“The others are so busy, I can’t blame them. You are too—don’t misunderstand me—but your job allows you time to focus on people. I really admire your attention to detail and your caring nature.”
“Thank you,” Abbey said, the compliment warming her. She hadn’t received a lot of praise in her line of work, and it just went to show the bond that she and Caroline had. She gently dragged her fork against the corner of the pie, scooping up a bite.
Caroline took a slow sip of her coffee, resting the dainty cup in the palm of her hand. “My childhood was quite different than the generations after me. What’s considered acceptable in our family now is quite dissimilar to my day. I had a good childhood.” She took another quiet sip and then set it down to take a bite of pie. They sat in silence as she finished her bite. Then, she continued. “I was expected to do the things my mother taught me to do: I was taught manners; I learned how to receive guests; I did what I was told. But I played too. I had dollhouses, a wooden rocking horse, blocks. I was like most children when I was allowed to play.” Her voice was quiet and a little sad.
Abbey paid attention to what Caroline was saying. She was telling her something more than what was on the surface. She was too careful with her words, too mannerly, to say what she wanted to say, but Abbey could see it on her face. In her description, she hadn’t used the word “love” once. She hadn’t said how great her parents were or how good they’d been with her. She hadn’t spoken about trips she’d taken with her family, only what she’d been asked to do.
“My son and his wife, Susan, raised Nick and his sister in a different manner,” she said. “Aaron was busy—he worked all the time—but when he was there, he made those kids feel like they were all that mattered. They had a bond with him that no one can ever take from them, and they miss him dearly. I had to find that kind of devotion later in life with my husband rather than my family, but it was fine. I am who I am because of my life’s path. It just took me a little longer to find my way.”
“Do you ever worry about your grandkids finding their way?”
“I don’t worry about Robin. She’s happily married with a son. She left as soon as she possibly could. She’s just like her mother, and she found it much easier to be happy on her own. Then there’s Nick.” She took another sip of her coffee and stared into the brown liquid for a while before she started talking again. “Nick is a little lost, at the moment. He needs someone to show him the way.”
“And you think that person is me,” she said, no longer worried about what Caroline might say. It was pretty clear what she was getting at.