The Christmas Promise(22)

Erin walked into the kitchen and opened her arms. “Will this work? I found it on sale at Wilson’s.” She was wearing black maternity pants with a purple blousy top.

“Work for what?” Miriam asked.

“I bought it thinking I’d be going on interviews this week,” Erin said. “But Gloria found a job for me today.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, banging a spoon on the side of a pot.

“But women who work in law offices on TV are always wearing suits,” Erin said.

“You’re dressed fine,” I said to Erin. “You’re not going to court. Besides, Robert Layton gave up on suits years ago.”

Miriam sat slumped in a chair at the table, looking at her house. For days men had been ripping out carpeting and tearing out damaged walls while setting her belongings on the driveway. When she came in each evening she was exhausted and miserable from sorting through the things she had collected during her marriage to Lynn. On more than one occasion I offered to help but it was something she needed to do alone, painstakingly going through bloated photo albums or cards and letters that were blurry with ink and salvaging what she could.

When she stepped into her home men would escort her back out. “We can’t have you in here,” the contractor would say. “Please, it’s for your safety.” Miriam would charge through anyway, telling the crew how to do their work.

Early one morning I answered the door and found one of the crewmen looking sheepish. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he said. “But would you mind keeping your friend out of her house?”

I felt bad for him. “I’m afraid that’s like keeping a rash from spreading,” I said.

There was no expression on his face. “Great. Thanks.” He went back to his work and I leaned out the door to hear Miriam barking orders from inside her home.

“I always told Lynn I wanted a different house,” Miriam had said earlier in the week. “Now I want it, but it’s ruined.” I tried to encourage her, pointing out that now she could put up new walls with new color and paper; she could even make rooms bigger or smaller, but if there was a silver lining Miriam wouldn’t see it.

She moaned and strained to read a stained-glass plaque hanging in my window:





Grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway

The good fortune to run into the ones I do

And the eyesight to tell the difference





She grunted, shaking her head, and I laughed, watching her. I pulled plates down from a cupboard and held them in front of her. She sighed like a horse and stood wearily to her feet. “Don’t be late,” Miriam scolded. “Employers have no patience for tardiness.”

I rolled my eyes and dumped mashed potatoes into a bowl. “She won’t be late.”

“And they won’t tolerate any mucking around, either,” Miriam said. “Remember that.”

I handed the potatoes to Erin while I pulled a meat loaf from the oven. Miriam frowned when she saw it but brightened when I slid a pan full of hot rolls from the top rack. I poured peas into a bowl and handed them to Erin. “Have you told your mother that you’re here?”

“Not yet,” she said. Miriam sighed, shaking her head, and Erin pretended not to notice.

I filled three glasses with ice and opened the fridge for the pitcher of tea. “You can invite her to come visit,” I said. “I could fix dinner and the two of you could talk about what you need to do.” Erin was quiet, taking the drinks to the table. She wasn’t enthused about that idea. “When the time’s right.”

“But the time better be soon by the looks of your belly,” Miriam said.

I hissed at Miriam and sat, patting Erin’s hand. “Just ignore her. My grandson taught me this. He’ll throw up his little hand and say, ‘Talk to the hand, Grandma.’ So just throw your hand up when she talks.”

“I can hear you, Gloria,” Miriam said. “I’m sitting right here.”

I ate my food with one hand and raised the other, putting it in front of Miriam. “Talk to the hand, Miriam.” I leaned close to Erin. “Whatever happened between you and your mother, I’m sure she’s over it and just wants to see you again. And nothing will be able to keep her from that little one you’re carrying.” Erin nodded, moving the food around on her plate. “If you’re open to it, I think you should give me your mother’s name and phone number…just in case something happens.” I reached behind me and pulled out a pad and pen from the telephone table and slid it in front of Erin. After a while she jotted down a name and number and moved the pad to the side of my plate. I slipped the paper inside my jacket pocket and jumped up from the table. “Oh, my! I almost forgot.” I dug through my purse and handed a set of car keys to Erin. “These are for you.”