Friends and Strangers - J. Courtney Sullivan Page 0,166
Going to be surprised. Because I haven’t been surprised enough lately. Do you have a pediatrician you like?”
“Dr. Gordon is the best. I’ll give you her number.”
“Thanks. What are your thoughts on swaddling? A friend of mine swears by it, but then I read a story about how it can be bad for the baby’s hips. Sorry, I have way too many questions.”
“I’m so happy to answer them and feel like I know something for once,” Elisabeth said. “I was standing where you are a year ago. You’ll be a pro in no time. You’ll see.”
“It’s overwhelming if I think about it too much,” Gwen said. “Stephanie added me to that Facebook group for moms who live in town. She’s sort of the queen of the whole thing. It’s deeply annoying. I had to mute it.”
Elisabeth looked at Nomi. “I didn’t know there was a Facebook group for moms here,” she said.
She had been so consumed with BK Mamas that she hadn’t even thought to look.
Gwen turned to Nomi. “Sorry. My life isn’t usually this much of a soap opera. I must sound crazy to you.”
Nomi smiled. “No,” she said. “You sound like one of us.”
* * *
—
Two weeks later, Elisabeth and Andrew went to Faye and George’s.
Faye made pot roast. The four of them sat at the table longer than usual, talking and eating.
It would be their last dinner together in this house. Faye and George were moving in a few days, to a two-bedroom condo in town. It was a small miracle that they found a buyer. They hadn’t gotten much for the place, but they were out from under.
Faye said it was a relief, mostly. Though she would miss the garden she had planted out back; and the signs of a younger Andrew that she still saw everywhere—the old treehouse, the pencil notches on the basement door frame, denoting his height over the years.
All around them were cardboard boxes, full or half full, labeled in black marker: KITCHEN GADGETS, G’S TOOLS, A’S YEARBOOKS. Gil wandered from one open box to another, removing items, before he settled on a metal potato masher, which he then banged against the linoleum floor for ten minutes.
When the plates had been cleared, George excused himself and slipped into his office to do some packing.
“He’s not packing,” Faye said. “He’s working. He’s still at it. He and the guys from his discussion group are planning yet another protest. Ever since that article in the Gazette about them, people are calling and asking for their help.”
Faye shook her head. “I’m proud of him. But don’t tell him I said so.”
Elisabeth got up to use the bathroom in the hall. When she came out, instead of turning left to go back to the kitchen, she went right and knocked at George’s office door.
“Come in!” he called.
He grinned when he saw her there. “Lizzy,” he said, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I want to apologize,” she said.
“For what?”
“I made a huge mistake when I gave that money to my sister. If it hadn’t been for that, we’d have it to offer you, to save this house. Now it’s too late. I’m so sorry.”
George shook his head. “We never would have taken it.”
“Aren’t you going to miss this place?”
“Yes,” he said. “But everyone I’ve spent time with here, everyone I love, is still with me. So who cares about a house?”
It occurred to Elisabeth then that she had spent so much time worrying about the dark legacy of her own family that she hadn’t considered that this too would be Gil’s inheritance. Good men like George and Andrew. She hoped he would turn out like them.
“Have you heard from Sam at all since she left?” Elisabeth asked, trying to sound noncommittal; just making conversation.
George shook his head.
She felt relieved.
“Did you two make up?” George said.
“Not yet.”
“You should. She’s a great girl.”
“She is.”
“And so are you,” he said. “That goes without saying.”
Elisabeth smiled. “Thanks. Faye mentioned that all these people are coming to you for guidance after that article in the Gazette,” she said. “I’m proud of you, George.”
The part of her fight with Sam that played over and over in her mind was what she’d said about Clive having no money.
He doesn’t have two pennies to rub together.
You don’t know anything yet.
It shocked Elisabeth, how much she sounded like her parents then. The meddling was like them too. So certain that she knew best. Sam had recognized this. How could it be that Elisabeth