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“Think I should wear my pinafore?”
“Yes. The pink dotted swiss. Or maybe the lilac chiffon. Or the yellow—”
Laughing, Jack went out the back way to the garage.
As soon as they were alone, Sara said, “What’s up with your mother? Throwing a fit for you to return to her?”
“Actually, it’s the opposite.” As Kate ate her cereal, she told her aunt the story, including what Jack said.
Kate knew her mother and her aunt didn’t like each other, so she expected Aunt S
ara to say something sarcastic. But she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t even mention the mystery of why Ava Medlar was so happy in New York. Instead, she talked about what a wise and caring person Jack was.
Maybe Jack wasn’t her biological grandchild, but Sara treated him as though he was. Loved him like he was.
Minutes later, Kate left for work. When she was told that Tayla was taking the day off, she breathed in relief. She wouldn’t have to deal with her boss’s histrionics. She had a young couple who wanted to move to Lachlan so she was to show them eight houses, and take them to lunch. She hoped she’d get done by three thirty.
She got home at three forty and Sara and Jack were waiting for her. It was already decided that they’d go in Jack’s truck and he would drive.
Aunt Sara looked so glum that Kate wanted to say she didn’t have to go. In the truck, they were a silent trio.
Arthur Niederman was just a few years younger than Sara and they had gone to the same high school. He liked to tell how Sara had never so much as looked at him. Her eyes were only on Callum Wyatt, Jack’s grandfather. Arthur said Sara was always hurrying home after school because she had to “take care of” her younger brother, Randal, Kate’s father. Kate had asked Aunt Sara what that meant. His mother didn’t have an outside job, so why was Sara required to look after him?
When her aunt quickly changed the subject, Kate was reminded of how extraordinarily good Aunt Sara was at avoiding questions about her younger brother.
“You brought his manuscript?” Jack looked across Kate sitting in the middle.
Sara nodded, but said nothing.
Kate squeezed her forearm in reassurance. When Arthur Niederman was a young man he’d fallen off the roof of a warehouse owned by some big company. He never walked again. Since the accident was the company’s fault, a lawyer showed up the day after Arthur fell and offered his services to sue. Arthur easily won and was awarded millions. He was in a wheelchair, but he lived comfortably in his lovely house with his books and his garden.
During the summer, Kate had stopped by several times to visit him. He was an excellent observer of people and she loved to hear about what he’d seen and heard.
“When you’re in a wheelchair,” he’d said, “it’s as though people think you’ve lost all your senses, including your hearing. Couples have arguments while standing right next to me. If a walking person goes by, they shut up. I seem to be invisible.”
Kate had grown quite fond of the man.
By the time they reached his house, Sara looked like she was on her way to a guillotine.
Arthur didn’t wait for them to knock, but was sitting by the open door. He was a tall man and kept the upper half of his body in good shape. He had strong arms from pushing the big wheels on his chair. Kate knew that a nurse came twice a week to give him massages and work his legs. For his household needs, he used delivery services.
She kissed both his cheeks. “How are you? How are the Vandas you ordered?” Arthur had a screened porch full of orchids.
“Happy and blooming.” He led them to the dining room where a long table was covered with plates of food.
As Kate looked at the table, she laughed. “You lovely scoundrel. Look what you did.”
The food was divided into three sections and labeled. One was low calorie for Kate. Little round slivers of bread piled high with slices of cucumber, chocolate muffins hardly bigger than her thumb, a bowl of tiny wild strawberries. For Jack there were thick beef and pastrami sandwiches and cold beer. At the end was for Sara. Her keto diet’s no-sugar and no-carbs rules had been obeyed. Bacon wrapped around asparagus, almond flour scones with whipping cream, salmon with sour cream and sprigs of dill.
Kate looked at her aunt and saw her expression soften. Arthur had made a lot of effort to welcome them. They took their places at the table. Jack and Sara were at the ends, Kate and Arthur across from each other. His plate of food came from each of the three sections.
They were just tucking into the feast when Arthur looked at Sara. “Well?”
They all knew what he meant. His book.
Sara had already eaten the asparagus and was on her second cup of tea—the Assam she loved—and she was happier. “It’s very well written. You have a knack for good sentence structure. Never once did you begin three sentences in a row with ‘he’ or ‘she.’” She filled her mouth with food.
Kate looked at her aunt. Was that all she was going to say? She glanced at Jack. He had his head down, eating. He was staying out of what was going on.
