Secrets in Summer(90)

“I remember.” Her voice was thin, but she opened her mouth and allowed Clive to gently feed her the eggs.

Darcy thought it might be difficult for Mimi to eat with Darcy sitting there gawking. She rose. “I’ll just go tidy the kitchen.”

The kitchen was clearly the room of someone who was preoccupied. It was littered with coffee cups, plates of uneaten sandwiches, glasses still half-full of Scotch, and an opened but untouched box of chocolates from Sweet Inspirations. It felt good to move around restoring order, and as Darcy stacked the dishwasher and put away dishes, an enormous affection for Clive filled her. She saw so many small signs of his care for his grandmother.

Clive came into the kitchen as Darcy was scrubbing the skillet.

“She ate a few bites,” he said, showing Darcy her plate. “She’s asleep now.”

“Have you eaten?” Darcy asked.

A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Oh, I guess I haven’t.”

“Would you like me to make you some eggs? A nice hot scramble, with cheese in them?”

Clive looked dazed, as if she were speaking a foreign language. “Oh, thanks, but you’ve already washed the skillet.”

“Yes, and, guess what, I can always wash it again.” She dried the skillet and set it back on the stove. “Sit down, Clive. Rest a moment. I think Mimi will be okay.”

Clive nodded and sat down. He rested his elbows on the table and sank his head in his hands.

Darcy melted more butter in the skillet and broke more eggs into a bowl. She felt oddly maternal and nurturing and very fond of this man who was so loving to his grandmother.

“You’re wonderful with Mimi,” she said over her shoulder.

Clive shrugged. “Thank you. I’m glad to do it, although I’m missing some good summer time with my daughters.”

Darcy grated cheese into the eggs as she listened. “Oh? I thought you wanted to be here to write a book about jazz.”

“That’s what I told Mimi. And I am. The truth is this visit to the island matters a lot to her. I didn’t want her to think I had anything on my schedule for the summer that I would have to give up to bring her here.”

“Does she get to see her great-granddaughters?” Darcy said as she whisked the eggs.

“When we’re back in Boston, she does. My ex-wife has remarried, and she’s got a baby, and the girls are enchanted with him. They love me, they love Mimi, but this year they haven’t wanted to spend as much time with either of us.” Clive leaned back in his chair, rubbed his neck with one hand, and sighed. “When Mimi sees you, Darcy, she rallies. She summons up all her charm and wit. With you, she seems like a younger woman, a stronger woman, a—a less-frail woman. Until this year, she was a firecracker of a grandmother. She took Alyssa and Zoe everywhere—she went on a roller coaster with them when they were five. I was afraid she’d die of a heart attack, but she had a grand time.”

Darcy lowered the burner, slowly pouring the egg mixture into the skillet. “I can imagine Mimi on a roller coaster.”

“But in the last year…Mimi had a stroke. We were lucky. It wasn’t a bad one. But it slowed her down. Since then, she’s been gradually becoming…slower. She’s still there mentally, still has her sense of humor, but we can’t leave the girls alone with her. It would be too awful if Mimi fell or had another stroke when they were there. Mimi knows this—she suggested it, that the girls not be left alone with her. And when I take them to visit her, sometimes she’s in good shape, but often she’s so tired. Alyssa and Zoe are too young to understand. I mean, they’re sweet with her, they kiss her and talk to her, but they get restless. She’s not the great-grandmother they knew. And then Helen—my ex—has her own parents living nearby, and Ed and Janice are really fun grandparents.”

“Where are your parents?” Darcy asked, taking toast from the toaster and buttering it lavishly.

“My mother died a few years ago. My father has remarried and moved to France. He’s not really interested in the girls.”

Darcy put the plate of hot cheesy eggs and toast in front of Clive. “Eat up,” she told him. “You need your strength.”

“God, this smells good.” Clive picked up his fork and dug in like a starving man.

Darcy made herself a cup of coffee and set the skillet to soak. “I understand how you feel, Clive. I’m living in my grandmother’s house. Penny. Penelope to many people, including my mother. I lived with my grandmother here on the island from the time I was ten.”

“Are your parents—”