The House on Hope Street - By Danielle Steel Page 0,33
a woman your age. You're forty-one years old, you're still young, but not young enough to be wasting time. You should be dating.” Oh, for God's sake. It was the last thing on her mind. She was still wearing her wedding band, and similar inquiries by friends had been rebuffed promptly. She had no interest whatsoever in dating. In her heart, she still felt married to Jack, and felt as though she always would be.
“It's only been six months, Mom. Besides, I'm too busy.”
“Some people are remarried by then. Six months is a long time.”
“So is nineteen years. What's new with you? Are you dating?”
“I'm too old for that,” her mother snapped at her, although they both knew she wasn't. “You know what I'm saying.” Sell the house. Close the office. Find a husband. Her mother had lots of good advice to give her, or so she thought, as did everyone else Liz knew. Everyone had some kind of advice to give her, and she wasn't buying. “When are you going to take a vacation?”
“In August. I'm taking the kids to Tahoe.”
“Good. You need it.”
“Thank you. I'd better get to work. I've got a lot to do this morning.” She wanted to get off the phone before her mother got on her case about something else. There was always something.
“Have you put away jack's things yet?”
Christ. It was hopeless. “No, I haven't. I don't need the space.”
“You need the healing, Liz, and you know it.”
“So how come Daddy's coats are still in your downstairs closet?”
“That's different. I have nowhere else to store them.” Store them for whom? And for what? They both knew it was no different.
“I'm not ready to put them away, Mom.” And maybe I never will be, she acknowledged to herself in silence. She didn't want him out of her life or her head or her heart, or her closets. She wasn't ready to say good-bye yet.
“You're not going to get better till you do that.”
“I am better. Much better. I've got to go now.”
“You just don't want to hear it, but you know I'm right.” Who says so? Who says I have to put his things away? She felt the familiar knife-stab of pain again that she had already felt once that morning. Her mother was definitely not helping.
“I'll call you this weekend,” she promised her mother.
“Don't work too hard, Liz. I still think you should close the office.”
“I may have to if you don't let me get to work, Mom.”
“All right, all right. I'll talk to you on Sunday.”
After she hung up, Liz sat staring out the window, thinking of Jack, and what her mother had said, but it was just too painful to let go and do the things her mother had suggested. It was comforting to still see his clothes hanging in his closet. Sometimes she'd let herself touch a sleeve wistfully, or sniff the cologne that still lingered on his collars. She had finally put his shaving gear away, and thrown away his toothbrush. But she couldn't bring herself to do more than that. The rest of it was all there, and she liked it. And one day, when she didn't like it anymore, she would do something about it. But hopefully, not for a long time. She wasn't ready, and she knew it.
“Are you okay?” Jean had walked into the room and saw her staring out the window with a look of sorrow. But Liz stirred quickly when she heard her, and looked at her with a wistful smile.
“My mother. She always has some piece of advice to give me.”
“Mothers are like that. You have court this afternoon, I assume you remember.”
“I do. Though I can't say I'm looking forward to it.” She had maintained their practice exactly as it had been. She was still taking all the same cases that Jack would have approved of, and wanted to fight. She was still using the same criteria for accepting them, and referring the same ones that Jack wouldn't have wanted. She was doing it for him, and still respecting the guidelines he had set for them, but there were times when she questioned what she was doing. There was so much about family law that she didn't like, so many of the battles that seemed unimportant to her. And dealing with people who hated each other, were so willing to hit below the belt and hurt each other, and constantly cause each other trouble and pain, was beginning to depress her,