She, Elise, and Dee Dee each had a task they found sad, difficult, and overwhelming. But three pairs of hands were better than one pair. And three women could not only clear a condo, a basement, and the back of a garage but also celebrate said clearing out with good wine and great food accessorized by energizing music.
The plan came together within days of their first dinner at Margaret Rita’s. This time they had gathered at Siam Flower for the pad Thai and fresh spring rolls that had been on Elise’s mind.
“Look, here’s the way I see it,” Carmen said, holding a cup of hot jasmine tea between her palms. It was mild outside, but the restaurant’s AC was blowing, and she was cold. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, and we have nothing like that grand a project to tackle . . .”
“You haven’t seen my mother’s condo,” Elise said in a low voice.
“Neither were the pyramids or those amazing Gothic cathedrals.”
Elise nodded, dipping a fresh spring roll into the sauce and taking a small bite. She chewed for a moment and said, “And the signature dome in Florence . . .” She snapped her fingers, trying to grab the name from her memory. “Brunelleschi’s—”
“Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore,” Dee Dee interrupted.
“Nice pronunciation,” Carmen said.
“I spent six months in Italy as an exchange student. Loved Florence, absolutely loved it!”
“Okay, so Brunelleschi’s dome wasn’t built in a day. Or the pyramids or anything worth our time. So how is it we think that grief should go away in a day? Or that anyone could possibly clear out a house in a short period of time?”
Elise shook her head slowly. “No, dear. Grief is self-absorption on a grand scale, or so I was told by one of my colleagues. One of those ‘Get over it’ types who drinks himself into a stupor on the weekends.”
“Uh-huh,” Dee Dee said, nodding her head. “And will have cirrhosis in a few years. I love Carmen’s idea. I’m a pack rat, though you wouldn’t know it. I like to keep . . . things. You know how it is. Maybe I’ll use a thing next month. Maybe the girls would like it.”
“Maybe it’ll sprout wings and fly away?” Elise added, grinning.
“Uh-huh.”
“Only thing is, I have so few boxes of Mommy’s,” Dee Dee interjected. “It’d hardly be worth your time.”
“Except that your mother’s been dead how many years and you still have these boxes?” Elise asked pointedly.
Dee Dee pulled a face. “Okay, so I’m the poster child for procrastination.”
Elise finished off her spring roll, then licked a splash of peanut sauce from her finger. “You have too few. I have too many. I’m at the other end of the spectrum.” She paused. “Speaking of that, I have a whole condo to dismantle, ladies. It’s not exactly fair for me to monopolize your time on such a huge project.”
“Yes, but I’m nosy,” Carmen said, smiling. She gathered up noodles with her chopsticks and held them dangling in the air. “I want to see what you’ve got in that condo. You said your mother collected art, jewelry, whatnots. There isn’t an earring or bracelet that’s safe from me. I’ll buy the pieces I like.”
Carmen slurped the noodles into her mouth, Dee Dee snorted. “I thought the idea was to decrease the amount of stuff we have!”
“No. The idea is to decrease the amount of stuff we have from our mothers! So that’s my solution. What do you think?” Carmen asked. She studied the two women closely. Elise was nodding. Dee Dee’s expression was thoughtful. “And since Elise has the most stuff, we’ll attack her project in phases and work on the others in between.”
Elise inhaled deeply. “Okay. But I still think it’s generous of you all to even consider what I’ve got going on in that condo. Maybe I should do some pre-clear-out pruning so the job won’t be as overwhelming?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dee Dee said. “Although I don’t mind helping with that. I’m curious too.”
“Okay,” Carmen concluded. “If that’s what you want to do. And to sweeten the pot, I propose that we start at my place. I have three boxes in my garage and a few more at my dad’s. I’ll get those, and we can have a clearing-out party . . . Check your phones, girls. I’ll even cook!”
“I’ll bring wine,” Dee Dee said.
“I’ll bring something sweet,” Elise added.
“It’s too bad there isn’t such a thing as a three-pronged wishbone,” Carmen said. “That would bring us luck.”
“We’ll improvise.” Dee Dee laughed, extending her fist to the center of the table. Elise and Carmen did the same.
“Our own wishbone,” Carmen said.
“Namaste,” Dee Dee and Elise said in unison.
Part 2
Chapter 6
Carmen
Of all the obstacles Carmen expected to encounter with her plan to sort through and (finally!) dispose of her mother’s belongings, her father was not on the list. Shortly before the dreaded dinner with Elaine Oakes, Carmen called to tell her father that she was stopping by to pick up the boxes stored in the basement. She was startled by his response.
“It’s not a good time,” Howard Bradshaw told his daughter. “It’s kinda late.”
“Dad, it’s only 8:30. This won’t take long. Just fifteen minutes or—”
“No. Another time would be better.”
Carmen tilted her head to the side. What is this about?
A naughty and disturbing thought popped into her head. Was he entertaining Elaine? Was he entertaining some other lady? Just the notion (and the visual that went with it) made Carmen feel queasy. Unreasonable? Yes, she knew that. Her father was a widower now, a single man. But the thought of him with a woman—not her mother—still annoyed her.
“Well, I’m just about to make the turn from Galbraith Road. Dad, I’m sorry about this, I would’ve called earlier, but I didn’t know that I’d finish up work so soon. Is it okay or not?”
She heard him clear his throat loudly.
“Yes, all right,” he answered in a sharp tone and hung up the phone.
Humph. He’s getting grouchy in his old age.
Her father had sounded like a troll guarding a bridge in a Scandinavian folktale. When she pulled into the driveway, he’d opened the garage and was standing just inside, a stern expression on his face, the one her mother referred to as his “plagues and pestilence” grimace. He looked seriously pissed off. What Carmen couldn’t figure out was why.
She got out of the car, pushed the button to open her trunk, and kissed her father on the cheek.
“Why do you want to bother with those boxes and things at this late date?” her father growled. “They’ve been in the basement for months, and now you want to pick them up in the middle of the night!”
“Middle of the night, Dad? It’s a quarter to nine!” Carmen brushed past him and went into the kitchen toward the basement door. “I don’t get it. You’ve been after me for weeks to come and get these things. In fact, not too long ago, when you called me about the dinner with . . .” Ugh. She could barely get the woman’s name out. “Mrs. Oakes . . . you mentioned clearing the boxes out of the basement. So what’s changed? Do they have cooties or something?”