“Nope. I'm coming here. Coming to Mimi's is the best party in town.”
“You never say that when you come to my house,” Audrey said, looking hurt. She was wearing a good-looking black suit, with a string of pearls and a gold pin on the lapel. She looked chic, but severe. Since her hus-band's death twenty-two years before, she rarely wore color, although she was an attractive woman. She had Sarah's and her mother's blue eyes, dyed her hair blond, and wore it in a bun or French twist. She looked like an older but almost equally pretty Grace Kelly. She also had lovely skin, few wrinkles, and a good figure. She was as tall as Sarah, unlike Mimi, who was tiny. Audrey's father had been tall.
“Yes, I do say I love coming to your house, Mom.” Sarah kissed them both, and her mother went back to checking the turkey with a disgruntled expression, predictably muttering about its size.
Mimi went back to the living room to her two friends and George. It was interesting that Mimi had invited three people, but neither Audrey nor Sarah had anyone to bring. Audrey had invited her friend Mary Ann, but her book club buddy had gotten sick at the last minute. They had met years before at Al-Anon, when both their husbands were drinking. Sarah liked Mary Ann but always found her a little depressing. She was never a truly happy addition to the group, and seemed to drag her mother down, which wasn't hard to do. More often than not, Audrey's view of life was pessimistic, unlike her mother's.
“The turkey is too small this year,” Audrey said, as Sarah laughed, checking in the pots that were on the stove. There were mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, sweet potatoes, and gravy. And sitting on the kitchen table were rolls, cranberry sauce, and salad. Their standard Thanksgiving meal. There were three pies cooling on the counter, mince, pumpkin, and apple.
“You always say that, Mom.”
“No, I don't.” Audrey bridled, covering her suit with an apron. “Where'd you get the new suit?”
“At Neiman's. I bought it this week. For Thanksgiving.”
“I like it,” Audrey said as Sarah smiled at her.
“Thanks, Mom.” She walked over to her and gave her a hug. And then Audrey unnerved her again with her next question.
“Where's Phil?”
“In Tahoe. Remember? Just like he does every year.” She turned away to check the mashed potatoes then, so her mother wouldn't see the disappointment in her eyes. Some days it was harder than others to hide. Holidays were always tough without him.
“I don't know why you put up with it. I assume he's not inviting you up this weekend,” Audrey said grimly. She hated Phil, and always had.
“Nope. He's not. I'm fine. I have a lot of work to do for a new client next week. Things always get crazy before the holidays. I wouldn't have had time to see him anyway.” It was a lie, and they both knew it, but this time Audrey let her save face. She was busy with the turkey, which she was afraid would be too dry.
Half an hour later they were seated at Mimi's dining table, in the small, elegant dining room Audrey had decorated for her. The vegetables were all on the table in serving bowls, and George had carved the turkey. Everything looked perfect. Mimi said grace, as she always did, and after that the table was alive with chatter. Mimi's two women friends were going on a cruise to Mexico, George had sold his city house and was moving into an apartment, Audrey was talking about a house she was doing for a client in Hillsborough, and Mimi was planning a Christmas party. Sarah smiled as she listened to all of them. She could hardly get a word in edgewise. It was nice to see them all happy. Their enthusiasm was contagious.
“What have you been up to, Sarah?” Mimi asked her halfway through the meal. “You've been very quiet.” Her grandmother always loved hearing what she was doing.
“I've been settling a large estate. There are nineteen heirs from all over the States. They all got quite a windfall from their great-uncle. It's been keeping me busy. I'm selling a house for them, it's a beautiful old place. It's going to go for next to nothing. The house is enormous, which is hard to sell these days.”
“You couldn't talk me into a big house again for anything in this world,” Mimi said emphatically, as Audrey looked at Sarah pointedly.
“You should do something about your apartment.” Her mantra. “At least buy a pair of flats. It would be a good investment.”
“I don't want the headache of a tenant. It's an invitation to a lawsuit,” Sarah said practically, although with the money Stanley had left her, she had been thinking of just that this week. But she didn't want to give her mother the satisfaction of admitting it to her. She had almost decided to buy a condo. She liked the idea of that better than a pair of flats.
The conversation drifted along on a variety of subjects. The pumpkin, mince, and apple pies came and went, with whipped cream and ice cream, and Sarah helped her mother clear the table and do the dishes. They had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when Sarah wandered into her grandmother's bedroom, to use her bathroom. One of the other ladies was in the second bathroom, so Sarah had decided to use Mimi's. She walked past the dresser where her grandmother kept so many framed photographs that most of them were concealed by the others. Sarah stopped to look at a photograph of herself when she was five or six, at the beach with her mother. There was another of Audrey on her wedding day. And one at the back, of Mimi on her wedding day during the war, in a white satin gown with a tiny waist and enormous shoulders. She managed to look both demure and stylish, and then another photograph caught her eye, of another young woman in an evening gown. The photograph had been hidden by the one of Mimi and her husband. Sarah stopped and stared at the photograph as she held it, and her grandmother walked into the room. Sarah turned to look at her, still holding the photograph with a dazed expression. This was where she'd seen it. It was the same photograph she had found in the closet of the master suite in the house she was selling for Stanley's estate, on Scott Street. She knew who it was, but she had to ask. She wanted to know. Suddenly she had to have confirmation.
“Who is this?” Sarah asked her as their eyes met. Mimi looked serious for a moment as she took it from her and looked at it with a wistful air.
“You've seen this before.” It was the only photograph Mimi had of her. All the others had vanished when she did. This one had been her father's. She had found it in his papers after he died. “It's my mother. It's the only photograph I have of her. She died when I was six.”
“Did she die, Mimi?” Sarah asked gently. She knew the truth now, as she realized clearly for the first time that her grandmother had never spoken to her of her own mother. And Sarah's mother had told her that her own grandmother had died when Mimi was six, so Audrey had never met her.
“What makes you ask something like that?” Mimi asked sadly, her eyes locked onto Sarah's.
“I saw that same photograph this week in a house we're selling for a client on Scott Street. We're selling it for his heirs actually. That's the house I mentioned at dinner. Twenty-forty Scott Street.”
“I remember the address,” Mimi said, as she put the photograph back on the dresser and turned to smile at Sarah. “I lived there till I was seven. My mother left when I was six, and my brother was five. It was 1930, the year after the crash. We moved a few months later to an apartment on Lake Street. I lived there until I married your grandfather. My father died that year. He never really recovered after the crash, and my mother left him.” It was an amazing story, the same one she had heard from Marjorie Merriweather about the family that had built the house on Scott Street. But more startling was the news that Mimi's mother had not died, but left. It was the first time Mimi had said it. Sarah wondered if her own mother knew the truth and never told her. Or if Mimi had lied to her, too.