our chances to make the deadline. I can picture the red fury on Hilly’s face, the hate she still feels for Minny. I know my old friend well. If we’re found out, Hilly will be our fiercest enemy. Even if we’re not found out, printing the pie story will put Hilly in a rage like we’ve never seen. But Minny’s right—it’s our best insurance.
I look over my shoulder every quarter mile. I keep exactly to the speed limit and stay on the back roads. They will beat us rings in my ears.
I WRITE ALL NIGHT, grimacing over the details of Minny’s story, and all the next day. At four in the afternoon, I jam the manuscript in a cardboard letter box. I quickly wrap the box in brown paper wrapping. Usually it takes seven or eight days, but it will somehow have to get to New York City in six days to make the deadline.
I speed to the post office, knowing it closes at four-thirty, despite my fear of the police, and rush inside to the window. I haven’t gone to sleep since night before last. My hair is literally sticking straight up in the air. The postman’s eyes widen.
“Windy outside?”
“Please. Can you get this out today? It’s going to New York.”
He looks at the address. “Out-a-town truck’s gone, ma’am. It’ll have to wait until morning.”
He stamps the postage and I head back home.
As soon as I walk in, I go straight to the pantry and call Elaine Stein’s office. Her secretary puts me through and I tell her, in a hoarse, tired voice, I mailed the manuscript today.
“The last editors’ meeting is in six days, Eugenia. Not only will it have to get here in time, I’ll have to have time to read it. I’d say it’s highly unlikely.”
There is nothing left to say, so I just murmur, “I know. Thank you for the chance.” And I add, “Merry Christmas, Missus Stein.”
“We call it Hanukkah, but thank you, Miss Phelan.”
chapter 28
AFTER I Hang up the phone, I go stand on the porch and stare out at the cold land. I’m so dog-tired I hadn’t even noticed Doctor Neal’s car is here. He must’ve arrived while I was at the post office. I lean against the rail and wait for him to come out of Mother’s room. Down the hall, through the open front door, I can see that her bedroom door is closed.
A little while later, Doctor Neal gently closes her door behind him and walks out to the porch. He stands beside me.
“I gave her something to help the pain,” he says.
“The . . . pain? Was Mama vomiting this morning?”
Old Doctor Neal stares at me through his cloudy blue eyes. He looks at me long and hard, as if trying to decide something about me. “Your mother has cancer, Eugenia. In the lining of the stomach.”
I reach for the side of the house. I’m shocked and yet, didn’t I know this?
“She didn’t want to tell you.” He shakes his head. “But since she refuses to stay in the hospital, you need to know. These next few months are going to be . . . pretty hard.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “On her and you too.”
“Few months? Is that . . . all?” I cover my mouth with my hand, hear myself groan.
“Maybe longer, maybe sooner, honey.” He shakes his head. “Knowing your mother, though,” he glances into the house, “she’s going to fight it like the devil.”
I stand there in a daze, unable to speak.
“Call me anytime, Eugenia. At the office or at home.”
I walk into the house, back to Mother’s room. Daddy is on the settee by the bed, staring at nothing. Mother is sitting straight up. She rolls her eyes when she sees me.
“Well, I guess he told you,” she says.
Tears drip off my chin. I hold her hands.
“How long have you known?”
“About two months.”
“Oh, Mama.”
“Now stop that, Eugenia. It can’t be helped.”
“But what can I . . . I can’t just sit here and watch you . . .” I can’t even say the word. All the words are too awful.
“You most certainly will not just sit here. Carlton is going to be a lawyer and you . . .” She shakes her finger at me. “Don’t think you can just let yourself go after I’m gone. I am calling Fanny Mae’s the minute I can walk to the kitchen and make your hair appointments through 1975.”