“We’re in Hilton Head with Marcie’s folks,” Bob answered. “Just hanging out. July’s a good time to be as far away from D.C. as possible.”
In the course of the last few years, Joanna had seen her brother several times when he had come to Bisbee to visit with Eleanor. She and Bob weren’t close, but Joanna had to admit that he was a pretty sharp and likable .guy. Usually, when Joanna spoke to Bob Brundage, it was by phone, mostly on holidays and mostly on her home telephone line. The fact that he knew her cell phone number came as something of a surprise and made her slightly apprehensive.
“So what’s up?” she asked.
“I heard from Eleanor today,” Bob said casually.
By mutual agreement, when Joanna Brady and Bob Brundage spoke of their mother, both of them referred to Eleanor by
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her given name. It was easier-a way of avoiding the emotional minefield of their shared-but-absent family history.
Suspicions confirmed, Joanna thought. No wonder you have this number.
“What about?” she asked innocently.
“Eleanor happened to mention that you and Butch are expecting,” Bob replied. “Congratulations.
I’ve never been an uncle before. Unless it’s a girl, that is. I suppose then I’ll end up being an aunt.”
It was an old joke, and Joanna wasn’t disposed to be amused. “We’ll be sure to let you know which one you turn out to be,” she returned.
“That is why I called, though,” Bob went on with all trace of joking around excised from his voice. “Eleanor wanted me to talk to you about this.”
“About what?”
‘About your being pregnant and running for sheriff at the same time.”
“I suppose she expects you to talk me out of it?” Joanna demanded. “She’s bringing you in because you’re her big gun. She’s convinced that as soon as you say the word, I’ll fold?”
“Something like that,” Bob admitted. “I tried to explain to her that this is none of my business.”
You’ve got that right, Joanna thought. So why are we having this conversation?
“But I did promise her that I’d call,” Bob continued. “I’m worried-“
“Don’t waste your breath,” Joanna interrupted, running out of patience. “Please don’t worry about me, Bob. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, and I certainly don’t need you telling me what to do.”
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“I meant I was worried about Eleanor,” Bob put in patiently.
“You don’t need to worry about her, either,” Joanna said. “She’s tough as nails.”
“But she seemed really upset.”
“Of course she’s upset,” Joanna fumed. “She’s always upset. She disapproves of everything I do. It’s been that way my whole life. Now that I’m pregnant, she wants me to pull out of the election, go home, put on an apron, and play housewife. That’s not me, Bob. It never has been me.”
“I don’t think she’s upset because you’re pregnant,” Bob said. ‘At least not totally so. It’s partially because you accused her of leaking the information to some reporter.
What’s her name?”
“Marliss,” Joanna said. “Marliss Shackleford. Maybe I was wrong about that, but Eleanor and Marliss have always been bosom buddies. Based on that, I can hardly be accused of leaping to conclusions.”
“I suppose not,” Bob agreed. “But I do think you need to take a look at this whole situation.”
By now Joanna had pulled into the parking lot at Benson High School and was sitting with the car parked but idling in order to keep the air-conditioning running. “What situation?” she asked.
“Eleanor’s jealous,” Bob answered.
“Jealous?” Joanna repeated. “Of me?”
“That’s right,” Bob Brundage said. “Think about it. Eleanor based her whole life on all those old rules, the ones she grew up with. I was born pre-women’s lib; you were born after. First, she lost me because, back then, being pregnant and unmarried just wasn’t done, not by good girls from good families.”
And what does that make me? Joanna wondered.
“Eleanor Matthews had a rebellious streak,” Bob continued, 151
“but society-in the form of her parents-ran roughshod over it. Her family made her conform and forced her to give me up for adoption. She told me once that losing me broke her heart, and I’m sure it’s true. From then on, she decided she was through with breaking rules. She set about conforming, and she did it up brown. When the sexual revolution came along, she ran in the opposite direction. While other women her age were out burning their bras, Eleanor decided to go home and stay there, looking after her husband and raising her daughter. Did you know that, at one time, Eleanor wanted to be a fashion model?”
Joanna was stunned by this astonishing revelation. To those growing up in the cultural backwater of Bisbee, Arizona, a career as a fashion model would have been beyond the realm of possibility.
“You’re kidding!” Joanna exclaimed. “Eleanor Lathrop a fashion model? You mean a real, honest-to-goodness fashion model, in someplace like New York?”
“Or Paris,” Bob added.
Joanna was unconvinced. “That’s a little far-fetched. It sounds about as likely as her wanting to grow up to be a stripper. Besides, she never mentioned a word about it to me.”
“She did to me,” Bob returned.
Naturally, Joanna thought bitterly. Of course, she told her fair-haired boy and not me …
“So what happened?” Joanna asked with more than a trace of sarcasm in her voice.
“If she wanted to become a model so badly, why didn’t she do it?”
“Because, after she had me, her mother convinced her that models who had damaged their bodies with babies were all washed up in the fashion biz.”
“So she decided to become a housewife instead?”
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“That’s right. She stifled her own career ambitions, first because of me and later because of her husband and you. But now, Joanna, take a look at what you’re doing.
It’s not just that you’re not following Eleanor’s blueprint for life. Instead, you’re designing a whole new ball game. Eleanor Matthews Lathrop had two children-you and me. It’s pretty clear to me that between the two of us we cost her everything.” Speak for yourself, Joanna thought.
But Bob continued. “You have one child, soon to be two, but you’re living in a whole new era. From Eleanor’s point of view, society is letting you off easy. can do whatever you want. You don’t have to pay the same kinds of prices Eleanor had to pay. As far as she’s concerned, you’re not having to give up anything.”
The cell phone next to Joanna’s ear was hot, but so was she. She sat there steaming, saying nothing but doing a slow burn. Bob Brundage had a hell of a lot of nerve analyzing what, if anything, Joanna Brady was having to give up.
“Joanna?” Bob asked at last. “Are you still there?” “I’m here,” Joanna said stiffly.
“Tell me something. Did you think all this up on your own, or did Eleanor ladle it to you one word at a time?”
“On my own,” Bob answered. “I swear, every word of it.” “So what are you then, some kind of psychologist?” “I have an advantage you don’t have,” Bob replied. “What’s that?” Joanna asked pointedly. “Age?” “That, too.” Bob’s reply to Joanna’s blunt question was pleasantly evasive. “But not just that,” he added. “I have the benefit of perspective, and perspective only comes with distance. You’re too close to see it.”