She's Up to No Good(103)

“When did you move to Maryland?”

“Well before that. Your grandfather took the government job in . . . Let me think. Anna was fifteen, so it would have been seventy-one.”

She took my hand. “Mama, Papa, I want you to meet your great-granddaughter.” She didn’t speak for a moment, and I wondered if I was expected to say something. Nice to meet you would be a little weird under the circumstances. But she shook her head. “They would have loved you. Papa loved children more than anything. And you’re the good girl Mama always wished I was.”

She pulled me with her to the next grave. Genevieve Bergman, the stone read. Who was Genevieve? I read the dates. January 1934 until July 1955. “Genevieve?” I asked, confused. “I thought Vivie was short for Vivian?”

“Why would it be Vivian? You’re named for her, after all.”

“I—what?”

“Your mother thought Genevieve was too old-fashioned. The older names weren’t in style when you were born. So she chose Jenna.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t.” I stared at the stone.

“I couldn’t say Genevieve when I was little. My nickname for her stuck.” She looked down at the ground, then up at me. “Go on back to the car. I have things to tell her.”

“I think she knows already.”

My grandmother put a hand on her hip. “And I think she needs to hear some of it from me.”

I didn’t like leaving her there in the sun, but I did as she asked, starting the car and putting on the air conditioner, but making sure I could still see her. I was named for Vivie. On the one hand, no wonder I had been so miserable. My mother didn’t mean to curse me, but oof. What a legacy to saddle a child with. I looked over at my grandmother again. She was engaged in an animated, albeit one-sided, conversation. I wondered if she was telling her sister about George or Tony, or all of it.

Eventually she shuffled back to the car, and I scrambled out to open her door for her.

“What did Vivie have to say?”

“Not a whole lot. But I think she can rest a bit easier now.”

I started the car. These people felt so real to me after this trip that it was bizarre to think all that was left of them was buried under those plots of grass. I glanced in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see their specters waving from among the tombstones.

“What about your parents?”

“What about them, darling?”

“Do you think they’re resting easy after . . . everything?”

She turned her head to the window, and I wondered if she was looking for them as well.

“My father made his own peace.”

“How did that happen?”

“It took time. They were both so proud. But if Tony had two great loves in his life, they were me and Sofia. Papa wanted to make things right and because of Sofia, he could.”

It made sense. They hadn’t been able to resolve their differences over my grandmother, but they got a new chance in Sofia. But how could my grandmother ever get past what her mother did first to her, then to her beloved baby sister? “What about your mother?”

“My mother . . .” She stopped for a moment. “I forgave my mother when I met Frank. And I have to hope that’s enough.”

“Frank?”

She turned to look at me, her eyes compassionate. “Life is complicated and messy for everyone. It took me a long time to learn that lesson.”





CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE


October 1978


Hereford, Massachusetts


They reopened the cottages in October because there wasn’t room for everyone when Miriam died.

She was diagnosed the previous spring, but was mostly fine until the last month, when the cancer moved quickly and aggressively. Her children all agreed it was best she didn’t suffer long, but they worried deeply about Joseph as they gathered in the Main Street living room after Joseph went to bed the night before the funeral.

“He can move in with me,” Bernie said. He and his wife had already discussed the inevitable conclusion as the only ones who still lived in Hereford. Helen was close, in Boston, Sam even closer in Beverly. But Bernie was the eldest, and the responsibility, in his mind, was his.

“He won’t,” Helen said. “I talked to him last night about coming to live with us. He said he’s not leaving Mama’s house.”

“Stubborn old fool.” Bernie shook his head. Evelyn was secretly relieved. She couldn’t imagine selling the Main Street house.

“How will he eat? He’s never even made himself a sandwich, let alone done any housework.” Gertie was chewing on her thumbnail, which Evelyn hadn’t seen her do since she was a little girl.

“We’ll have to get someone in to help him.” Bernie looked around at his siblings. “They took a hit with Mama’s treatments, but he’s got the money for that.” He deliberately avoided looking at Evelyn. “But he isn’t so healthy himself. If anything happens—” He swallowed, looking down at his hands. “If anything happens, I’m going to sell the smaller cottage.”

Evelyn looked around at her siblings, who all nodded their assent. She didn’t want to agree; her summers in Hereford were what she looked forward to all year. But no one else came for as long as she did anymore. And with Anna and Joan in college and Richie in high school, they no longer wanted to spend the whole summer away from their friends. So as long as they still had the one cottage, she could agree to that.