Chapter 9
“Do we have to?”
Sophie’s voice was a low moan of reluctance as she mounted the steps of Henrietta Starr’s house after Dan, her feet dragging as she came onto the porch.
It was their fourth visit since Dan had first read the Facebook message meant for his mother several months ago, and truth be told, he was dreading it almost as much as his daughter.
He’d moved to Starr’s Fall, if only in part, to connect with the grandmother he hadn’t realized he’d had.
When he’d read that first Facebook message, he’d felt an unsettling mix of sorrow and longing—he’d been missing his mom so badly, and the thought of connecting with her mom had felt like such a gift.
But then he’d met Henrietta Starr, and the woman’s stiff and acerbic manner had jolted him and completely turned Sophie off.
Still, Henrietta had been open to another meeting, and that had seemed to go a little better.
In the flush of optimism he’d experienced after it, it had made sense, in a weird kind of way, to move to Starr’s Fall in order to get to know her better—the only family he now had—and with Hollinghurst being a good school for Sophie, it had felt like a double win.
Besides, he’d wanted a change. Life in the city was getting old and expensive, and he’d been hoping for a reset with Sophie in such a small town, a way to make friends, to feel part of something.
And all in all, things were getting better.
Ever since Sophie had started working for Zoe, she’d been a bit less sulky and sullen, and the dinner at Maggie’s had had the surprising result of Sophie becoming friends, of a sort, with Ben.
Apparently she liked playing RainQuest, not that she’d ever said as much out loud.
But she’d gone to the boardgame café yesterday afternoon, and Dan had known better than to ask her any questions about it.
“Yes,” he said now, giving her what he hoped was an encouraging smile, “we have to go. I know it isn’t easy, Soph, but she is your great-grandmother, and she wants to see us.”
“Does she, though?” Sophie asked doubtfully. “She hasn’t seemed like it.”
“She’s from a different generation,” Dan reminded her.
“One that doesn’t show their emotions as much as you or I might.
And she did warm up a little, last time.
” She’d cracked a smile, at least, but when, afterward, Dan had called her to say they’d decided to move to Starr’s Fall, she’d seemed far more taken aback than pleased, which he sort of got, because moving to a place where you’d met someone twice wasn’t exactly the norm.
“How long do we have to stay?” Sophie asked in a whisper as Dan raised the tarnished brass knocker and let it fall once.
“A decent amount of time,” he whispered back. “Let’s just play it by ear.”
From inside the house, Dan heard the slow, careful steps of his grandmother, and he straightened, pasting a friendly smile on his face as the door creaked open.
Henrietta stood there, her gnarled hands resting on top of a wooden cane; she was dressed in a housedress of striped cotton, a belt around her waist and her hair in a straggly bun.
Her lips twitched in something that was not quite a smile as she took in the sight of them.
“Well,” she said by way of greeting, and next to him Sophie started to fidget.
“Hello,” Dan greeted her in what was probably an overly cheerful voice. “You remember we were visiting today?”
“Yes, I remember,” she replied tartly in the manner he remembered so well. “I haven’t lost all my marbles, much though you might think I have.”
Dan blinked, unsure how to take that unjust accusation. Their three visits so far had been stilted and fairly awkward, but he didn’t think he’d intimated that he thought Henrietta was losing it.
“Just checking,” he murmured weakly.
With a sniff, Henrietta stepped aside to let them in.
The house was as dark and depressing as Dan remembered, with old, flowered wallpaper peeling from the walls, dark paneled wood everywhere, heavy furniture and frayed curtains that hung dustily all the way to the floor.
“I’ve made tea,” Henrietta told them with dignity. “If you’d like to take it?”
“That would be wonderful,” Dan told her warmly. Last time they’d come, she’d only offered them water, so clearly this was a step in the right direction. “Could Sophie or I help?” he asked as Henrietta turned to head back to the kitchen.
She gave another sniff as she nodded at Sophie. “She can carry the tray,” she said, and to her credit, Sophie managed a small, tense smile in return. A week ago, Dan thought, before Zoe, she would have muttered something snarky under her breath.
Before Zoe. The words reverberated through him as Sophie followed Henrietta back into the kitchen and Dan went into the living room.
It felt a little ridiculous to think in before and after terms of someone he barely knew, and yet he did—because of Sophie and the positive effect Zoe had had on her, but also because of him.
After the dinner at Maggie’s a few nights ago, Zoe had agreed to come over one evening for the promised drink and a discussion about logos.
Dan hadn’t quite been able to read her mood; she’d seemed chirpy and enthusiastic about it, but he didn’t quite trust it somehow.
It had felt like a veneer, thin and brittle, although how he could tell that, he had no idea, because he really didn’t know her.
But he hoped to. All during that dinner, he’d kept sneaking looks at her, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious about it.
She’d looked fantastic in that purple dress, everything about her so vivid and alive.
Despite the brittleness, he’d sensed a strength to her along with a sense of humor, and he looked forward to the opportunity to get to know her better…
if she’d let him. Because as fun as Zoe could be, she was also a little prickly.
“Here we are,” Henrietta announced as she stumped into the living room followed by Sophie, who was carrying a heavy tray laden with a full tea set, in what looked like heirloom china.
His daughter’s face was pale and strained as she carefully carried the tray to the table in the corner where Henrietta indicated she put it.
“So you really did up and move to Starr’s Fall,” Henrietta said, a statement of something that sounded almost like disapproval, as she began to pour the tea. The last time they’d visited, they’d been about to move, but maybe she’d thought they wouldn’t go through with it.
“We did,” Dan replied as cheerfully as he could. He had to admit, when she said it like that, it did sound like a crazy thing to do. “Sophie is starting at Hollinghurst in September.”
“Hollinghurst,” Henrietta mused as she poured tea with a shaking hand. “You know I went there?”
“I didn’t, actually,” Dan replied.
“Hmmph.” Henrietta did not seem overly impressed by the connection. “Milk?”
“Please.”
She splashed a few drops of milk into his cup before handing it to Sophie, her shaking hands making the cup clatter against the saucer, to give to him.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dan murmured, giving his daughter a sympathetic smile as he took the cup. He knew this was hard.
“Well, I enjoyed it,” Henrietta stated as she poured two more cups. “But I was very good at field hockey.” She turned to Sophie. “Are you athletic, my dear?”
Sophie hunched her shoulders. “I like ballet.”
“Ballet…” Henrietta pressed her lips together. “That requires a certain amount of grace which I, alas, do not possess.” She smiled, a sudden curving of her lips that took Dan by surprise, simply because it seemed so genuine. “But I believe Hollinghurst has a respected dance program.”
“Do they?” Sophie glanced questioningly at Dan.
He hadn’t looked up the dance program when he’d researched the school; he’d been more interested in the provision for dyslexia.
Sophie hadn’t looked up the school at all, because she’d been too angry about leaving New York, although really, it had been so much more about Lindsay leaving New York… and Sophie.
“I wanted to go to Miss Porter’s,” Henrietta told them as she took her seat.
“It was where all my friends were going, but by that time the money was already starting to run out, and Hollinghurst was cheaper.” She gave Dan a pointed glance.
“You should know there isn’t any money left, or hardly any.
Enough to see me buried decently, I suppose, but not much more. ”
“Oh…” It took Dan a few seconds to realize what she was getting at… that he and Sophie had moved here for some kind of inheritance. At least that was what he thought she meant, which was incredibly galling. “I’m sorry,” he told her awkwardly. “Penny pinching is never fun.”
Henrietta let out a snort which Dan belatedly realized was a laugh. “Indeed it is not,” she told him with asperity, before giving him another pointed look. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
“We didn’t come here for money,” Dan told her, doing his best to keep his voice gentle.
“Far from it. We just… wanted to get to know you better.” She looked unconvinced, and he continued haltingly, “I was very close to my mother. It was just me and her growing up, and when she went so suddenly… I wanted to reach out. That’s all this is, Miss Starr.
” He wasn’t ready to call her Grandma, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t, either.
“I hope you believe that,” he finished, feeling like she probably wouldn’t.
And now that he thought about it, he supposed he could see why she might be suspicious. Grandson comes out of the woodwork and then moves into vulnerable octogenarian’s life. It wasn’t a great look.
“I suppose there’s no reason for me not to,” she remarked after a moment. “Considering you’re still here.” She paused before saying, “I hope you grew up with some money, at any rate.” She hesitated, her fingers trembling on her cup. “Did… did your mother provide well for you? You never said.”
And she’d never asked. During their three visits, Henrietta Starr had stuck to formal pleasantries, although Dan had been desperate to ask questions, learn answers, about his mother’s family history.
“She worked hard,” he told her. “My dad left when I was four, and so, as I said, it was just her and me for a long time.” He felt a thickening in his throat, and he swallowed past it.
Six months on, he still missed his mother with a fierce and powerful ache.
She’d been a great mom—worked long hours as a nurse but always managed to find time to come to his baseball games, even when he’d been benched.
She’d been a terrible cook, depending on Hamburger Helper and store-bought sauces, allowing him to eat the sugariest cereals because “life is short and you deserve a treat.” She’d had such a good heart, and she’d been fun, too, and she’d been his friend as much as his mother.
When she’d died, she’d only been seventy, far too young by today’s standards, and the cancer that had taken her had been quick and cruel.
“Your father left?” Henrietta said, sounding saddened by this knowledge.
“And what about your mother’s life, when she was a child?
” she asked. “Did she have a happy home? Did you know your grandparents?” She fired the questions at him quickly, with an urgency that surprised him, because they’d never come close to this kind of conversation before.
“I think so,” he ventured. “My grandparents died when I was young, but they seemed close to her. She was their only child.” He paused, unsure how much to share. “They both developed Alzheimer’s, one after the other, and she cared for them both.”
“Oh.” Henrietta’s mouth drooped down, her eyes clouded with sorrow. “That sounds… difficult.”
“I suppose it was,” Dan replied reflectively.
“I was pretty young at the time, about seven or so, so I don’t know how aware I was, but I remember going over there a lot.
Eventually we moved in with them.” When he thought of how much care he’d given his mother in just a few fraught weeks, the slog of his mom’s care for her own parents over several years took on a new and more powerful meaning.
“Anyway,” he finished, “she was a good mother, and a credit to you.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Henrietta replied as she discreetly dabbed her eyes.
“Considering she never knew me, I can’t claim much credit.
” A sigh escaped her in a trembling breath.
“I can’t regret giving her up for adoption, because at the time it was the only reasonable option.
But… I wish I’d come to know her. For so many years, I closed myself off from the possibility.
I refused to let myself think of her at all.
” She glanced at them both, her expression turning shrewd, as if she suspected they might be engaging in similar behavior.
“It’s no way to live. You can’t cut people out of your life as if they’re held there by strings. ”
“No, I don’t suppose you can,” Dan agreed.
“What if people cut you out?” Sophie asked suddenly, and inwardly he winced, because he knew his daughter was thinking about Lindsay.
“Well, then, you let them go,” Henrietta replied, and now she sounded positively kindly. “But remember, they might come back. Hopefully it won’t be too late.”
They lapsed into silence as they sipped their tea, and he eased back in his chair. It felt like they’d made progress today. Henrietta Starr was still pretty prickly and difficult, but he suspected her acerbic manner hid a far softer heart than either he or Sophie had ever realized.
And as for Lindsay… Sophie hadn’t mentioned her mother in nearly a week, and Dan hadn’t pressed the matter. It was easier not to ask questions, to pretend she didn’t exist, even if her absence sometimes felt like a pulsing wound in his daughter’s life.
But Lindsay was Sophie’s mother. For better or worse, for Sophie’s sake, they needed to have a relationship.
With a sigh and a smile, Dan turned back to Henrietta.
His grandmother, he suspected, had a lot of wisdom, even if it was somewhat grudgingly given.
He wondered what further pearls she might offer, as they got to know one another.
He suspected it would be quite an interesting journey.