A Warm Heart in Winter(47)

Just like there were no framed glossies of her and Terrie in their school uniforms on the mantel over the electric fireplace. Nothing hung on the walls, even though their mom had left with a couple of landscapes that were actual oil paintings rather than posters. No plants; then again, the venetian blinds were all cranked down tight, just a glow around the gaps between them and the jambs showing.

So no way to grow anything in here.

As she took a deep breath, she smelled the same shampoo her mom had always used, and had to rub her stinging eyes.

“I didn’t expect you.”

Elle dropped her hands. “Hi.”

As her mom stood in the doorway to her bedroom, she seemed on the surface to be exactly the same person who had always been there in the mornings making breakfast, in the afternoons after school, in the evenings at the dinner table. She still had thick chestnut brown hair, and dark eyes, and a dimple on one side as she smiled. But she was like a house that had been deserted, the lights on with no one home.

There was nothing behind that stare.

When had she left them? Was it when she’d learned about Megan?

She must know, right?

Elle opened her mouth. But instead of giving airtime to her questions—or confessing that she had been told something private about her parents’ marriage—she said, “I called. You know, to tell you I might be coming over.”

“I’m sorry.” Her mom turned on the hall light and walked over to the kitchen. “I’ve been trying to charge it.”

“Not your cell phone.” Well, she’d called that, too. “The home line.”

Not that this was a home.

“Oh.” Her mom turned to the wall-mounted unit, which, along with the thick paint and old appliances, was a testament to the age of the apartment. “That should have worked. Maybe I was in the shower.”

As her mom took the receiver off the wall and put it to her ear, and then tapped the toggle thingy, Elle looked into the bedroom.

No surprise, it was dark as night in there, but the light from the hall fixture penetrated the shadows. The bed was a mess, layered with all kinds of twisted sheets and fallen blankets like someone had dropped a bomb in the middle of the mattress. There were also wrappers on the floor . . . potato chip bags and Hershey’s candy bars, mostly. And Coke cans lying on their sides. Wadded-up Kleenex. Rolls of paper towels.

“I’m not sure went wrong,” her mom said. “What went wrong, I mean.”

There was a click as the receiver was replaced.

“Would you like me to make you something to eat, Elle?”

“Um . . .” Elle looked away from the clutter. “Yes. Please.”

“Okay, then. Let’s see what we have.”

Memories of the way things had been before surged, and Elle recalled delicious sandwiches whipped up on the fly, and fancy dinners that took hours to prepare, and homemade bread and handmade ice cream and cookies that were from that gingersnap recipe from two generations back.

“Oh. I was supposed to go grocery shopping today.”

Elle glanced over. The refrigerator had a bottle of ketchup in its door, a mostly empty thing of ranch dressing on its top shelf, and seven bottles of white wine stacked on their sides like cordwood on the bottom.

Her mom shut the fridge and began opening cupboards.

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m actually not hungry. I forgot that I already had breakfast.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Her mom came over, pulled out the other chair, and sat down. “So how’s school going?”

“Good.”

“Are you ready for Christmas break?”

Elle fiddled with her parka sleeve. Then decided she was hot and took the Patagonia thing off. “I guess so.”

“I’m looking forward to having you girls with me for a week. We’ll have so much fun. It’ll be a sleepover.”

Elle glanced toward the bedroom. “Ah . . .”

Her mother’s chair made a squeak on the bare floor as she stood back up and went across the apartment.

“It will be so much fun.” She closed the door. “I can’t wait.”

As their eyes met, Elle nodded. “Sure. Me, too.”

“Unless you want to stay at your dad’s during the nights? Maybe you’d rather sleep in your own beds. You could just come for a couple of visits.”

“Okay. If that’s easier.”

“Really, it’s what you girls want. But we can have fun for a couple of afternoons.”

“Okay.”

Her mom sat down again and smiled. “Perfect. I’m so looking forward to it.”

Elle stared at her hands. As she tried to think of something to say, she realized she had come over here with questions to ask, questions about things that were really none of her business. Yet the divorce, though it had been between two people legally, had affected four lives, hadn’t it.

“I guess I better go back.”

“You’re so grown up now, driving everywhere.”

“Actually, I came on cross-country skis.”

As she pointed over her shoulder to the door—like either one of them had X-ray vision—her mom smiled in a vacant way. “Out for some exercise, then. You know, you should take up running, you were always good at it as a child.”