The Winters(52)

Dani confidently ordered the chicken dish, which made it easy for me to do the same.

“You know,” she said once the waiter had left us alone, “I don’t go up to my mother’s old room that often. Not like I used to. Only when I really miss her. The closet still smells like her.”

I could have cried. “I understand that,” I said, stopping my hand from covering hers in comfort.

“You don’t, though.”

“I do. I also lost my mother when I was young. I remember rolling myself up in her comforter. It smelled like her for years.”

She furrowed her brow, her mind making room for this unexpected bit of information. “I didn’t know about your mom,” she said. “Daddy never told me.”

“There’s a lot we probably don’t know about each other. But you can ask me anything you want. Go ahead. We can make it like a game. We’ll take turns.”

“How did your mother die?”

“Breast cancer.”

“How old was she?”

“Mid-thirties. That’s two questions. Now I get to ask you one.”

She ignored me. “Were you there when she died?”

“Yes. I was.”

“What do you remember?”

I felt a pall come over me. To conjure these memories was always to risk tears. But Dani had never shown this much interest in me.

“Well, she had been in the hospital for a while. A couple of months. I suppose I thought she’d come home. No one told me the truth about her illness, that it wasn’t something she’d recover from. One day a teacher drove me to the hospital. I knew why. I remember feeling like I never wanted the car to stop. My father was waiting for me in the emergency room area. He told me that my mother had slipped into a coma. They led me to her room. It was dim. She didn’t look or sound like herself. Her cheeks were all hollowed out. She had one of those . . . death rattles. It was awful to watch, to know there wasn’t going to be a goodbye. My father didn’t want me to see her struggling, so a nurse took me to a room down the hall where I waited for him to come and tell me that she had died. I seem to remember waiting a long time.”

As expected, there were tears in my eyes by the time I finished.

“That’s sad.”

“Yes. I still miss her, too. Especially today. But I was glad you were there.”

“I remember the night my mother died, too.”

My heart sped up. Max had only ever painted broad strokes about that night. I’d been reluctant to prod him for details, afraid I’d renew his grief.

“All I told the police I remembered was that it was super hot that day and Mum and I went swimming and then my father came home from a fund-raiser in New York. We had pizza, then I went to bed and I was asleep when she took off in her car.” Dani looked around the restaurant. “But I remember a lot more.”

She pressed her fingertips into the tines of her fork, taking note of my interest before continuing.

“If I tell you what I remember, do you promise not to tell anyone ever, not even my father?”

I knew that keeping a secret from Max would allow Dani to wedge something noxious into our relationship, which she could drive deeper at any time, but the need to know her story was stronger than this fear.

Without waiting for my reply, she began. “It happened during that really hot week in July, remember?”

I shook my head.

“Right. Well, anyway, it was super hot all summer, but that week broke records and our air-conditioning went out. First time ever. Some guys came to look at it, but they said they needed a part, so it would take a few days. There were phone calls, one in particular with my dad that seemed to really piss Mum off, and another one she took in the greenhouse. I heard her yelling. When she came out, she seemed strange. Nervous. She kept biting her nails. Pacing. She told Katya, Go home early, it’s too hot to work. And she gave Gus the day off, too. Then she said, Dani, get in the car. I thought we were going to meet Dad in the city, check into a hotel, see a show, until the heat broke. Or maybe go to Auntie Louisa’s. She said no. She wanted to stay home that night. She drove fast into East Hampton. She always did. We went to the hardware store. Her phone rang while she was parking. Dad again. She told him she was buying fans because the air-conditioning broke. I could hear his voice get louder. She whispered something like, I’m telling you this ends tonight, and hung up. The guy at the store said they were sold out of fans and suggested we check Bridgehampton or Montauk, but it was getting late. We’d never make it, even with the way my mom drove. She said, We’re going to have to tough it out, kiddo. It’ll be like camping.”

Dani took a sip of water. So did I, surprised to find wine in my mouth. I was so transfixed, my focus on Dani had sharpened to such a keen point, that the room and everyone in it had disappeared.

“Anyway. Mum drove fast back to Asherley. It was so dry out. The water in the bay was as low as I’ve ever seen it. She said, Let’s put on our bathing suits. She made a big thing of lemonade and we went down to our beach. She didn’t want to swim. She sat on the chair and kept looking at her phone while I splashed around. I said, Come in the water with me, and she said. That’s okay, Dani, I like watching you. Do a somersault or something, do some tricks, so I did. And then I noticed the curtain move in the turret. I was a little scared and I said, Mum, someone’s in your room. She turned around. It was Dad. He waved from the window and Mum went, Shit. He wasn’t supposed to be home, I guess. She wasn’t happy to see him. At all.” Dani leaned in and whispered, “I think maybe my dad was cheating on her.”