Chapter Eight
For a week, Eliza tried to push it all out of her mind. She went to work and pinned down two more sponsors for the dinner?—a maker of educational toys and a publishing house. Her predecessor had opened a lot of doors, and Eliza had discovered she had a gift for keeping them open and even parlaying them into finding other doors. Vanessa was delighted with her progress and with the fact that she was still sitting at her desk when everyone else had gone for the day.
Despite the chill in the air, she walked home?—the full thirty-two blocks north?—rather than take the subway, willing her mind to be blank as she people-watched and window-shopped. She’d get takeout somewhere along the way and hope that she’d get home exhausted enough to finally fall asleep. But every night she found herself staring at something streaming on her laptop and ignoring Carter’s texts. She was tempted to let him come over, just for the distraction. But as much as she didn’t want to talk about what was really on her mind, she also didn’t want to spend time with someone who would let her get away with that.
As the weekend approached, she decided to go up to her dad’s house?— Carol’s house? ?—to look for her mom’s old yearbooks and photos. She considered asking Scott to go along with her?—he’d always gotten along better with Carol than she had?—but she knew he wouldn’t approve of her mission.
With the benefit of distance, she sometimes wondered if she would like Carol if she weren’t her stepmother. If she hadn’t moved into her home less than a year after Laura died. If she hadn’t taken down the photos that included her predecessor. If she hadn’t reorganized the kitchen. If she hadn’t intimated that Eliza was using her grief to manipulate everyone around her.
Eliza took the train up to Westchester and Ubered to the house. She had an empty tote bag over her shoulder ready to fill with anything she found. The front yard was pristine; the landscaper must have been there recently with the leaf blower. The windows, framed with shiny black shutters, looked out at her blankly from the brick facade. At the front door, she rang the bell. Once she’d graduated from college and moved to the city, Carol had asked that she no longer use her key to let herself in. “I think it would be better if you rang the doorbell,” she’d said, careful not to even glance in her direction from where she stood at the kitchen counter, pouring creamer into her coffee.
Now, Eliza stood on the front step, wondering if she should ring again. She was about to when the front door opened. Carol wore a neat pin-striped shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a scoop-neck tank that showed her cleavage, along with slim-fit dark-wash jeans and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Eliza automatically stepped forward to hug her stepmother, who allowed it. Jack had insisted upon these hugs for years?—despite the fact that Carol didn’t reciprocate. She was plenty affectionate with Jack, always perching on the arm of whatever chair he sat in, her hand on his shoulder. But Eliza had never received a proper hug from her, not even on Carol and Jack’s wedding day, when Eliza and Scott had served as maid of honor and best man at the simple ceremony at the country club Carol had wanted them to join.
“How are you doing?” Eliza asked, reminding herself that, whatever her own feelings about her, Carol had just lost her husband.
“All right, considering,” she said evenly.
Eliza took off her olive green utility jacket and stood holding it?—unsure if she should put it down somewhere, go to the closet and hang it, or wait for Carol to take it. The woman had a way of making Eliza feel completely unsettled in what was once her own home.
Carol took it and hung it in the closet. “Can I get you something?” she asked. The signals were clear. Eliza was the guest.
“No, thanks, I’m fine.”
Carol nodded and turned toward the kitchen. Eliza followed, conscious of how strange it was to be in the house with Jack gone. For the first time she wondered if Carol would continue living there. Before she could stop herself, the words were out of her mouth. “So, do you plan to stay here?”
Her stepmother glanced over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised. “It is my home. It has been for nine years.”
“I know. I just meant. Well.” Eliza’s voice disappeared. By now they were in the kitchen, and Carol topped off her ever-present cup of coffee before sitting down at the round kitchen table. The rectangular one at which Laura had served meals, along with the padded banquette seating that ran along one wall, had been removed many years earlier. Eliza sat opposite her.
“And you? How are you doing?” Carol asked, gazing at her over the rim of her cup.
“Fine. I mean, sad. But fine.”
It was a knee-jerk response. In truth, Eliza wasn’t sure how she was. But even if she were, it was unlikely she’d share it with Carol. Carol, who had seen her at her worst?—pale and drawn and sometimes unable to drag herself out of bed to go to school. There had been conferences with Jack and the high school guidance department. Schoolwork sent home. Scott was away at college, seeming better able to move past?—or at least compartmentalize?—his grief. When he’d come home for a weekend during October of her junior year, he’d been shocked by her appearance. She could hear him talking to Jack about her. “What’s going on with Eliza?” he’d asked. “I’m worried about her.” And Jack’s gruff response: “I’m doing the best I can.” Which meant going to work and spending more and more time with his new girlfriend. Carol had brought her treats for a while, store-bought cookies and brownies that only made Eliza think about the homemade ones Laura used to bake.
And then, suddenly, they were engaged. Jack announced it to Scott and Eliza over holiday break. Carol came over to cook them all dinner. Somewhat gluey lasagna. Eliza picked at it and considered announcing she was becoming a vegan. Meanwhile, Jack and Carol kept exchanging glances until finally, Jack cleared his throat. “Carol and I have an announcement to make.” He reached to take her hand; she was sitting in the chair that used to be Eliza’s. Scott was in his usual seat, with Eliza next to him. Laura’s chair was conspicuously empty. “I know it may seem sudden. But when it’s right, it’s right. I couldn’t have gotten through the past seven months without her. We’re engaged. We’ll get married in the spring, but Carol is moving in immediately.”
The lasagna congealed in Eliza’s stomach. Scott recovered first. “Wow. Dad. Carol. Congratulations.”
Eliza looked up at Carol and was sure she saw triumph in her eyes. “Wait. Married? Already? And this is how you tell us?” Her face grew hot and her hands shook. She could see herself, predictably stepping into the bratty-daughter role that Carol had already cast her in. But she couldn’t help herself. “Mom hasn’t even been gone a year. How could you?” She pushed back her chair so abruptly that it would have crashed onto the floor if Scott hadn’t caught it.
“Eliza!” Jack’s voice followed her as Eliza bolted toward the stairs. She heard Carol’s voice murmur something as she headed up to her room, expecting her father’s bellow to follow. But there was nothing but the sound of her bedroom door slamming.
It was much later that Scott knocked softly and then let himself in when Eliza didn’t respond.
“Shove over,” he said, plopping down on her bed as she quickly slid toward the wall to avoid being sat on.
“Congratulations,” Eliza said in a simultaneously gruff and singsong voice, mimicking her brother’s response to Jack’s announcement.
“Cut it out, Eliza. Getting pissed off doesn’t change anything.”
“Whatever.” She wanted to be the kind of kid who could be happy for her dad. But she didn’t know how to be that kid without also being the kid who was betraying her dead mom.
“Look. I know it’s hard. And I know it’s easier for me because I’m gone most of the time. But you only have another year and a half to get through. If you can pull yourself together and actually graduate from high school, you can leave for college. Start fresh. Mom would...”
Eliza sat up. “Don’t tell me what Mom would want!” she hissed.
Scott heaved a deep sigh. “Fine. I won’t. But think about it yourself. What would she say if she were here?”
She balled up her fists as her eyes stung, and she found herself thinking, You get what you get and you don’t get upset. She almost choked on the strangled laugh that started to bubble up out of her.
Scott suddenly swiped at his own eyes, and Eliza looked at him. “You okay?”
“Jesus, Eliza. Of course I’m not okay. I’m just trying to keep it together here.”
She pressed her lips together. She could hear the unspoken And having to referee between you and Dad doesn’t help. She put her head on his shoulder. “Hey. Wanna play some Legend of Zelda ?”
Scott pulled away and looked at her. “Wow. You must really think I’m a mess if you’re offering.”
She had shrugged. “Hey. I have my moments. Grab them while you can.”
Now, sitting across the table from Carol, she wished she had brought Scott with her. At least he knew how to make small talk with their stepmother.
“So, do you still have food left over from shiva?” she asked.
“Are you hungry?”
“No, I just...” Words once again failed her.
“I’ve had neighbors and friends dropping off meals. They seem to think I have the appetite of a family of four.”
Eliza nodded, remembering the endless meal train that started before Laura died and continued for months. So much food that she couldn’t eat.
Carol drummed her fingers on the table. “So. Are you going to tell me your news?”
“My news?” Eliza was bewildered.
“Your mother’s letter.”
“Wait. What? How did you...?”
“My nephew Adam was at Scott’s for your... outburst.”
Eliza ticked back through that hazy evening. Yes, Carol was right. Adam had been there. She could imagine him picking up the phone immediately to call his mom, Carol’s sister. Among Scott’s high school friends, he was definitely not her favorite.
“Quite the turn of events,” Carol observed, rising to refill her coffee. Again.
“Yes. I really don’t know what to say about it.”
“I can’t imagine you do.” Carol turned and watched her.
Eliza’s mouth felt like cotton. She wanted something to drink but was a little afraid to ask for water. Or to go to the cabinet for a glass herself. Is now the time to ask if Dad knew? If he suspected? She didn’t think she could. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Actually,” she began, “I wanted to go through my mom’s things. Yearbooks. Photo albums...”
“Of course. They’re in the attic. Help yourself.” Eliza rose from the table, eager to leave the kitchen, and then Carol continued. “Feel free to take those sorts of items. But I’d prefer you not take anything else. The will does need to go through probate. I’m sure you understand.”