Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(26)

“Oh please. The woman is illiterate.” Her mother gave a quick shake of the head. “In any event, I’m very disappointed in you.”

“What? Why?” Judy moved to put the glass in the dishwasher, but it was already running. She reached for the Palmolive, twisted on the faucet, and began to wash the glass in the sink.

“I think you encouraged your aunt, going to the scene with her. She has things to do, people like Myra who called here for her. She must’ve turned off her cell, so they called here. What were you thinking?”

Judy recoiled, surprised. “I didn’t have any choice. I wasn’t going to let her go alone.”

“Why not? You should’ve said you wouldn’t go, like I did.”

“Why?” Judy twisted off the faucet, slipped a dishrag off the hook, and dried off the stupid glass. “What purpose would that have served?”

“She might not have gone. She could’ve identified Iris from the picture on the email. Even I could see it was Iris, and I only met the woman once. I said I wouldn’t go, but you undermined me, and the two of you went traipsing off.” Her mother gestured vaguely to the door.

“Mom, please don’t blow it out of proportion. I was just trying to be nice to her. She’s lost her best friend right before her mastectomy. Does it get any worse? I was just thinking of her.”

“And I’m not?” Her mother’s blue eyes flared, her anger growing.

“I didn’t say you weren’t.” Judy felt nonplussed. She didn’t want to fight, but she didn’t see a way to head it off. “I think we’re both trying to help her, you and me, each of us in our own way—”

“Honey, take your cues from me right now. Follow my lead. Your aunt is at sixes and sevens, more upset about the procedure than you know.”

“Did she say that?”

“No, but she doesn’t know what she wants right now. We have to call the shots for her.”

“No we don’t, Mom.”

“Yes we do.” Her mother folded her arms in the thick bathrobe, and Judy’s chest tightened.

“She’s not a child.”

“The chemo makes her thinking foggy. It clouds the brain. I read that in the books. You heard what she said this afternoon.”

“She’s not on the chemo now.”

“It’s still in her system.”

Judy suppressed an eye-roll. “Why don’t we not go there? Neither of us are doctors.”

“The correct verb is is, and you don’t have to be a doctor. It’s common sense. Open your eyes. You saw her tonight, she’s very emotional. She’s all over the place. She doesn’t know her own mind right now.”

“Mom, she’s having a mastectomy, not a lobotomy. She has cancer, not schizophrenia.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s not crazy, she knows her own mind. Tomorrow she wants to go to church and plant a rosebush for Iris. Am I supposed to go with her or not?”

“Church?” Her mother frowned in confusion. “When was the last time she went to church?”

“It’s not for her. She’s going to Iris’s church and she wants to talk to the priest about funeral plans.”

“She’s burying her now?” her mother asked, incredulous. “Where’s she going to get the money?”

“I don’t know,” Judy answered, thinking of the ten grand in the needlepoint bag.

“And I suppose you think you’re going with her to this church?”

“I was going to. You should, too.”

“Where is it?”

“Who cares? Mom, it’s church. What could your possible objection be?”

“Have you been listening to me at all?” Veins popped out in her mother’s lovely forehead. “I don’t think she should go, or you either, driving around. She should stay home and rest. Pack a go-bag, like it says in the books. We need to make sure she has her front-closure shirts, slip-on shoes, ice packs, and alcohol pads for her drains. Also the compression bras, we didn’t get to talk about that yet.”

“Can’t I get those things for her, Monday afternoon? She says she has one day of freedom left. If she wants to go to church, she should go to church.”

“Why do you have to talk to me this way?”

“What way?”

“Is this a lawyer thing? You turn everything into an argument.”

“I’m not, you are!” Judy couldn’t help but raise her voice.

“What are you talking about?” Her mother shook her head. “You’re the one who ran off, sending funny texts instead of calling. What is it with you two? Did you have your fun?”

“Fun?” Judy felt her own anger give way. “Do you think it was fun to go identify Iris tonight? Do you think we were having a good time, trying to understand how she died? You know, Mom, I don’t understand you. It’s like you’re jealous.”

Her mother’s lips parted, and she stepped backwards. “Jealous of what?”

“You’re jealous of me and Aunt Barb. You’re even jealous of Iris and Aunt Barb.” Judy regretted that the words had slipped out of her mouth, but it was too late to stop now. “Why aren’t you happy that Aunt Barb has a best friend in Iris? Why aren’t you happy that Aunt Barb is close to me? You should be happy for her! She’s your sister!”