Going Through the Notions(16)

“Yes, but it’s not your problem.”

“I promised Angus I’d do whatever I could to help.”

Silence reigned in the car as we drove the few miles back to Millbury. When we walked into the house, Joe wasn’t around, so we went out to the garden to find him tinkering with his latest find from Cyril’s salvage yard—a rusty Schwinn Orange Krate Stingray bicycle.

A young dog bounded up to us from around the corner of the shed.

“Hey, Buddy.” Sarah ruffled the dog’s ears as he jumped up and planted his huge paws against her chest.

“Do you know this dog? Is he yours?” I asked faintly, surveying the exuberant yellow Lab or retriever-type mix.

“He showed up on the set one day. He didn’t have a collar and no one came to claim him, so I kept him.”

I exhaled slowly. Her condo in the city, which Joe and I sold her for way below market value when we moved to Millbury for good, did not allow pets. Typical of Sarah and her impulsive nature—always doing things without thinking them through.

“You shouldn’t let him jump up on you like that.” When the puppy came over to me, I gently pushed him back down to the ground. I only petted him when he was sitting, his tail wagging furiously.

The pup gazed up at Joe, who had obviously accepted him right away. Joe never met a man, woman, or animal he didn’t like, and who didn’t instantly adore him in return.

He met my exasperated gaze, as if to say, Take a deep breath, Daisy. “Come on inside, girls, and see what I have planned for dinner.”

Sometimes over the years I’d thought that our personalities seemed better suited for the other’s job. Joe was more careful and patient than me, sterling qualities in a teacher, but as head negotiator for his electricians’ union  , it seemed as though more of a fiery personality was required. Like mine. Joe said that he had always played good cop in negotiations. Seemed like I was stuck forever in the role of bad cop, at least where Sarah was concerned.

I sighed. The dog looked as though he needed a great deal of training, which my laid-back daughter would probably not provide.

As we ate our perfectly grilled filet mignon and succulent lobster tails, Sarah regaled us with tales of the city and a rundown of her latest film. She had graduated from NYU in the film studies program, and now worked in continuity as a script supervisor. I sipped my wine, trying to ignore the puppy’s head resting on my knee and hopeful glances toward my steak.

I still missed New York. The hustle and bustle and endless hours of window-shopping. When I was younger, I’d catch a bus from the Lower East Side up to the Garment District and lose myself for the day, gazing in the dusty storefront windows, fascinated with the endless displays of French ribbons, braided trim, velvet and satin passementerie.

In fact, like Sarah, I’d been a bit bored when I first moved to Millbury. Opening the store had been my salvation. And Joe’s.

“How’s the condo, Sarah?” Joe asked as he speared a bite of asparagus.

“Great! You guys wouldn’t recognize the place. I had it painted an eggshell white throughout and completely gutted the kitchen and powder room. The cabinets are absolutely gorgeous. Natural maple, with stainless steel appliances. I even have a wine cooler!”

Joe grinned and they clinked wineglasses.

I raised my glass a little too late. “Did you end up keeping any of the furniture?”

“No, sorry, Mom. I sold it. I needed every penny for the reconstruction and the new living room set.”

I told myself not to be upset. It was her condo now after all, but it would have been nice if she was sentimental about at least one of her parents’ old possessions.

After dinner, Sarah took a phone call, and when she came back to the table, she was fighting back tears.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” I asked.

“That was Peter. Trying to tell me I should give us another chance. That I walked away from a great relationship.”

I was confused. “But I thought he broke up with you.”

“Only after I broke up with him first. I don’t know why he doesn’t get the message.”

“Well, maybe you should give him another chance.” Sarah was completely focused on her career, which was fine, but I worried that she would never let anyone in sufficiently to share her life.

Sarah exhaled. Impressive how she could convey such a large amount of irritation and disdain in one simple breath.

“I didn’t come here to be lectured. God, Mom, it would be nice to get a little understanding or sympathy for a change.”

Didn’t I always give her that?

Our earlier rapport at Reenie’s had drifted away like the evening breeze that was swaying the hanging baskets of white petunias and blue trailing lobelia out on the back porch.