Surfside Sisters(83)

Maybe all her life Donna Maxwell had wanted to go on a cruise. Maybe she had been only acting the part of perfect mother, and she couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer. Maybe Donna Maxwell was a big fat phony!

Or maybe Donna Maxwell was like everyone else, her selfish desires restricted by duty and the need to be who she seemed.

Another thought followed: All her life Keely had envied the Maxwell family. Now she realized how fortunate she’d been to have the mother and father who’d raised her.

    Tears came to her eyes. She missed her father. But while she sat there near Mr. Maxwell, she allowed herself to be with her father again, in memory. Her father had not been wealthy in terms of money, but his life—his wife, his daughter, his friends, this island—had been a fortune to him.

After an eternity, Sebastian came to relieve Keely.

“Did he sleep the entire time?” he asked in a whisper. “You don’t have to stay with him when he’s sleeping. I’m sorry I didn’t explain it to you, but we’re only figuring it out ourselves. Keely, thanks so much for being here today. This isn’t how I wanted to spend time with you—”

“I was glad to help.” Keely hugged Sebastian. She wanted to tell him how liberated she felt. The powerful Mr. Maxwell could be weakened like everyone else. But she couldn’t say that to Sebastian; it would sound vengeful. “Take care.”



* * *



—

“How was Al?” Eloise asked when Keely walked in the front door.

Keely flopped down on the sofa across from her mother. “Oh, Mom, I’m such a terrible human being. Mr. Maxwell wasn’t like himself at all. He was like a zombie.”

“Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? The poor man has had a stroke.”

“I know, I know. He looks fine, except one side of his face droops. But he has an expression in his eyes like no one’s home. I tried to be entertaining, I tried to talk about stuff from my childhood, but nothing interested him. I felt guilty and bored and useless. And wait till I tell you what I overheard Mrs. Maxwell say!” She gave her mother the full, dramatic account.

Eloise frowned and nodded to a private thought. “She should go on that cruise. She’s got a long and difficult time ahead of her.”

“Because recovering from a stroke can take, like, months?”

“Of course. And while it’s necessary to help stimulate the brain cells as soon as possible, before the brain loses its functions, sleep is the great healer.”

    “Mom, maybe you could talk to the Maxwells about this. You know so much, and they seem overwhelmed.”

Her mother smiled. “Keely, I’m sure they have plenty of professional help and all the medical advice they need.” Raising the remote, she changed channels on the television. “Look, a rerun of Monk. I do love this show.”

Keely glared at her mother, mentally challenging her to look away from the television and pay attention to her. But Eloise was locked in.

“I’m going for a run,” Keely said. It was late in the afternoon and she was too cranky to sit still.

She returned home sweaty, exhausted, and still cranky. To her surprise, her mother wasn’t in the living room. Keely followed the sound of her mother’s voice to the kitchen.

“Absolutely not,” Eloise was saying, her voice firm but friendly. “If you insist on paying me, I won’t come.” Seeing Keely, Eloise smiled brightly and held up a finger: one moment. “All right, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“What’s going on?” Keely asked when her mother put down the phone.

“That was Donna Maxwell. She asked me to come help Al. She said they’ve hired a couple of licensed practical nurses, big strong men, to help Al bathe and dress in the morning. She likes the people working with Al to heal his mind, but she thinks that since Al has known me for so long, he might feel more comfortable with me.”

“Donna called you?”

“Yes. Why are you surprised?”

“Because Donna is so…snobbish.”

Eloise said, “Illness makes us all equal.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“Oh, yes, and I know I’ll be able to help Al.” Eloise moved around the kitchen with light steps. “Go shower. I’m making spaghetti and a big salad for us for dinner.”

“Okay, then,” Keely agreed. She left the room with her heart full.

    So Aloysius Maxwell, who had been uncharitable and condescending to Keely and her mother when Keely’s father died, Aloysius Maxwell, who coldly refused to help George Green’s widow and daughter, that same Aloysius Maxwell was now in need of the most basic help, would be aided and carefully tended to—for with her patients, Eloise was always careful and tender—by George Green’s widow.

And Eloise Green would regain her sense of value in the world and the priceless and ordinary day-by-day pleasure in her work.

Real life was like a plot by Dickens, Keely decided.



* * *



—

Late in the afternoon, Keely and her mother sat in the backyard, sipping lemonade and enjoying the shadows that cooled the patio. Keely had bought a birdbath, and for long minutes at a time, both women laughed softly together, watching the lovely birds splash.