A Daughter's a Daughter Read online

  After a moment of silence, her mother continued.

  “I’ll let you go now, dear.”

  “Say hi to Grandma for me.”

  “Of course.”

  She clicked off, wondering when her mother would stop bothering her. Pam kept trying to have a relationship with her, but Linley didn’t need a mother anymore. She was perfectly happy living on her own, having her own friends as her social life. It was okay to see the family at Thanksgiving, but the dutiful Christmas appearance happened too soon after. She was always bored and restless, wishing herself elsewhere.

  At least Mom had gotten the message about making suggestions. Linley knew how to run her own life, and she did not need her homebody mom giving her career advice. Pam had never taken a career seriously, despite all the years she had worked. She had nothing useful to say about careers.

  Her dad hadn’t talked much about careers either, because becoming an accountant like he had been was a straight shot: accounting degree, apprenticeship, take the exam, get your certification, get hired or put out your own shingle. Not like media, where everything was changing super fast right now. What she’d learned in college was already out of date. She’d never had to take the classic journalism first job in a tiny market, for instance. Instead, her audition tape had been a YouTube video. She’d started on cable, and not as a behind-the-scenes apprentice producer, another classic foot in the door she’d skipped. She was headed for the big time. She knew it.

  Her mom had done nothing. Nothing in her life was relevant to Linley’s life today. Mom didn’t understand the career Linley was trying to build. She didn’t even understand why Linley wanted a career because she came from an era when most women had to choose between a family or a career. Her mom had chosen to stay at home and be a nothing.

  #

  “Why did you run off? I wanted to talk to you.”

  Linley looked up to find Jason looming above her, blocking her view of the rest of the café. He had a smile on his face and a cup of coffee in one hand. He looked entirely too handsome and confident. He had the kind of broad-chested body that did justice to a well-tailored suit. She knew exactly what he looked like stripped, which was even more intimidating and exciting.

  Rein it in, girl.

  When she merely eyed him without responding, Jason invited himself to sit next to her on the bench seat that stretched the length of the corner she was tucked into. He sat too close. His long, well-muscled leg touched hers.

  “Ah, this is cozy,” he remarked, setting his cup on her table and making himself very much at home.

  “What are you doing?” she asked impatience evident in her voice.

  “Getting comfortable. How was your day?”

  His blandly delivered question nearly drove her to say something foolish, but she maintained her control. “Jason, I’m not doing this,” she warned.

  “What?” he asked, all innocence.

  “Spending personal time with you. It’s not happening.” She knew her last words had risen in volume.

  “I get it when no means no. I merely came by to tell you about our field trip.” Despite his denial, there was mischief in his eyes.

  “Field trip?” What had he dreamed up now?

  “We’re taking our show on the road. Marty approved it.”

  “What? When?” She hoped it wouldn’t interfere with everything else she had lined up.

  Jason seemed pleased with throwing her off balance.

  “Next week. You and I are taking the show to DC, where the regulatory action is. I’ve already got some great guests lined up.” He named several government figures they hadn’t been able to lure onto the show previously.

  “Impressive. How did you land them?”

  “By promising them more air time and less hostility.”

  “How will you keep Ernie in check?” He was their most combative panelist. “He’s very hostile to government officials.”

  “He won’t be there. I’m not taking the whole group. It’ll be just you and me.” He repeated that phrase as if he savored it. He made it sound very intimate. What was Jason up to?

  “Why me?”

  He glanced down at her, still smiling. As if this whole discussion amused him for some reason. He was a big man, and his shoulders seemed to press into her space. She was trapped in the corner.

  “As the personal finance expert, you’re there to kick butt about what Washington is doing for Main Street.”

  Nice to be called an expert, but was he sincere? She suspected he had a secret agenda. “Flattering. Your idea?”

  He smirked. “Yeah. Marty liked it.”

  Jason was warning her there was no point in complaining to Marty or trying to get her part in the road trip changed. Why was Jason so pleased?

  “We’re there for an afternoon and then come home?”

  “Nope. We’ve got an invitation to the press club reception that night. We can rub shoulders with even more valuable contacts. It’s a dressy affair. We’re staying in DC overnight.”

  Ah, now she got it. Jason was happy because he had maneuvered her into being his date for the evening. Probably he also hoped they’d hook up later. Made easier by adjoining or connecting hotel rooms, or the like.

  Huge temptation. They would be alone, no scrutiny from coworkers. They could spend the whole night in bed. Get to know each other’s bodies intimately all over again.

  Then what?

  “No way,” she said.

  “Marty’s orders.”

  “Sure, blame Marty,” she said, barely veiling her anger.

  “I want to spend time with you, Lin,” he said. His dark eyes sized her up, lingering at her lips and her breasts appreciatively. “You’re elusive at the station. You won’t see me outside of work. Can you blame me for arranging for us to be together?”

  She shivered. It had been difficult to hold back her desire when she’d thought she was alone in it. Now Jason was openly declaring his determination to have her again. How was she going to resist him?

  “We won’t be together,” she insisted.

  “Yes, we will, Lin.” He gave her his patented, direct stare that held the camera on his face for a long fade out. “Count on it.”

  He calmly got up and left, content to let her freak over the possibility he would make a move on her during their business trip.

  Did she want him to? Hadn’t she been fretting daily because he’d played it cool all these months? Then why all of a sudden did she feel hunted?

  Chapter 7

  “I’m almost there. I’m driving through the village right now,” Pam told Sarah. She wore the hands-free cell phone setup Steve had given her. “I should have asked you for help before I called her, I guess.”

  Her thoughts had gone around and around for the entire drive. Only as she drove down the short main street with its deliberately quaint storefronts did she remember she hadn’t told Sarah anything.

  “It’s okay. I forgive you,” Sarah’s cheery voice came through. She knew Pam often got into a tizzy when dealing with her mother. “Listen, I can probably help you, too. You didn’t have to get out your sackcloth and ashes and go do penance with your mother.”

  Pam choked on her laughter. Sarah had a way with words. Sarah also had plenty of financial knowledge. Why hadn’t she consulted Sarah first? Because Dorothy was the family expert on helping people.

  “Now don’t get stuck out there,” Sarah warned. “You’ve got decisions to make about your future.”

  Pam listened to Sarah’s admonishments about relaunching her Wall Street career with a sense of weariness. She wasn’t cut out for the networking efforts Sarah was suggesting. Right now, the thought made her cringe.

  “Could I postpone all that until I come home? Please?”

  “Sure, kid. Meanwhile, try not to kill your mother.”

  “She’s more likely to do me in,” Pam muttered. Sarah laughed. They made plans to see each other soon and clicked off.

  This was silly. She had bee
n competent and effective as a mother and as a housewife. She had pulled her weight in the document retention department. She shouldn’t be down on herself because she didn’t instantly understand all the ins and outs of finding Magda some money. There was a learning curve to everything. The trouble was, she had a vivid mental image of how high the spike was on the classic learning curve and she felt stuck at the bottom of it.

  There was the house. It looked crisp and well cared for. Her mother was keeping up with the maintenance. The large pots of petunias and dusty miller flanking the front door were obvious recent seasonal additions, too.

  A car was parked next door. Someone was living in the house this summer. That was good. The previous owners had only been occasional residents. Although Alexander used to visit Dorothy every week without fail, he and Edie had moved south three months ago. In fact, as the only one of the four siblings now living within driving distance of their mother, Pam was overdue for a check-up visit to Dorothy.

  As she parked the car in the curved driveway, it occurred to her for the first time that none of them had made any plans for when Dorothy got too old and feeble to live out here alone. How irresponsible. Jeff’s death should have proved to her that all good things come to an end. Still, there was plenty of time. Dorothy was in perfect health.

  #

  Bruce saw the tidy Toyota Camry drive up and park next door. A slender woman emerged and pulled a travel bag from the trunk. A relative? Granddaughter? No, not young. In great shape, though. Nice behind. A daughter? Looked like she’d be staying awhile. Good. That made it more like a fair fight.

  #

  Dorothy loved all her children equally, but she had always worried about Pamela. Pamela was the most vulnerable and kind-hearted of her four children. Pamela constantly needed reassurance and guidance. As a girl, she had wanted someone strong to lean on. Jeff had been her rock. Since his death, Pamela had simply been going through the motions. Dorothy had not interfered. It was her life.

  Now Pamela had asked her mother for help because she couldn’t manage a simple thing like gathering some money for her friend. At first, Dorothy had given Pamela advice via the phone. Then it became obvious Pamela couldn’t absorb it all quickly, and further, could not see herself actually following through. That was when Dorothy changed tactics and told her to come for a visit. There would be time over a few days for the lessons to sink in. If Pamela actually had the gumption at last to do anything on her own. Which her mother, much as she loved the child, sincerely doubted.

  #

  “Ah, here you are at last,” Dorothy greeted her daughter. “What took you so long?”

  “I had to close up the house and get gas—” Pam started to explain. Then she shut her mouth. She wasn’t late. There was no appointed hour. Dorothy always wanted Pam to move faster.

  Dorothy looked well. Her shortish white hair was nicely kept. She maintained a regular appointment at a hair salon. Of course, she never went in for finicky fashions or manicures. They weren’t her style, just the usual wash, set, dry. Still, she had the well-maintained look of a woman of means who comfortably wore the same conservative garments year in and year out.

  It was part of Dorothy’s camouflage. She’d never been the conservative matron whose style she affected, but she had figured out a long time ago it was easier to impress some people if she wore a string of pearls. Obtained at a deep discount, of course.

  Pam knew her mother’s tactics, but had never herself thought to use style as a social tool. If anything, she had spent her life trying to avoid being noticed. Her mother’s notoriety had deeply embarrassed her as a child.

  Pam quickly settled in to her usual room. Then she wandered down to the living room. She was surprised at the piles of mail on several surfaces.

  “What’s all this? A new campaign?”

  Dorothy shrugged it aside. “Junk mail I should have torn up by now.”

  Pam cast a casual glance at the stack nearest her, and realized that the top envelope was from a bank. It looked like a statement. She picked it up and found it hadn’t been opened.

  “Don’t you want to look at your bank statement?”

  Dorothy looked briefly puzzled. “Oh, is that what it is? Of course. I’ll take care of it.” She held her hand out for the envelope and Pam passed it over.

  They went to sit in the sunroom, the room the family spent the most time in here because it had a panoramic view of the beach and received direct sunlight all day.

  “Ah, this is nice,” Pam said. “You have the best view here.”

  “I’ve always liked it. I don’t know why Alexander didn’t buy here. Instead, he insisted on going all the way to North Carolina for a piece of beach.”

  “Maybe he wanted to get away from New York. Many New Yorkers are moving south, and not to Florida. It must be nice down there.”

  Dorothy changed the subject to more family catch up. Later, they went out to dinner. Pam drove. The restaurant was an elegant little place, not crowded tonight because the busy summer season was over. The maitre d’ made quite a fuss over Dorothy, and seated them at a comfortable banquette.

  The menu had a lot of modern options which seemed to baffle Dorothy.

  “What is jerk chicken?” Dorothy asked.

  They found out from the waiter, and then continued looking at the menus. Then Dorothy asked the same question again. Pam smiled. How funny. Her mother was losing a bit of her short-term memory, she guessed. She herself hardly remembered the waiter’s explanation. She hadn’t been listening closely. Something to do with jerking the chicken apart instead of slicing it.

  They had a pleasant evening. Pam was grateful that Dorothy didn’t immediately push about the reason for the visit.

  #

  The next morning, Pam ducked out for a quick trip to the local grocery store to buy milk and fruit. Dorothy had begged off. She wasn’t interested in shopping, she’d said. She usually had her groceries delivered.

  On her return, Pam brought in the mail, which seemed to have accumulated in the mailbox for a couple of days. “Where would you like the mail, Mom?”

  “Oh, over there’s fine.” Dorothy pointed to the dining room, which they had not yet used. The fine old mahogany table was covered with newspapers, magazines, and stacks of mail.

  “Here? At your place at the table?” She made to put the mail on top of a stack near the end of the table usually reserved for Dorothy when they all ate together. After Jeff died, the big family celebrations switched to Alexander’s home so Pam didn’t have to travel a long distance alone. By now she was used to doing things alone, but as a new widow, she had been a timid driver. Dorothy had thought nothing of driving into Queens for Thanksgiving, and so the family tradition changed. It modified again after she retired. Alexander had arranged to have his son, James, swing by her home and pick Dorothy up.

  How sad that the table was now a mere repository of papers. This house had seen a lot of good family times over the years, even though her dad had died young. Like Jeff. Now that Alexander was gone, they’d have to find a new family member to host Thanksgiving.

  Dorothy waved an okay to Pam. She obviously had no interest in the mail.

  “Come sit with me, Pamela. Let’s talk about your money issue.”

  She obliged, seating herself in one of the comfortably cushioned wicker couches in the sunroom. She could see up the beach from there. Dorothy was in a wicker chair that she had angled to view the full length of the beach. The deep cushions were in a bright floral print, and coupled with the potted palms in the corners, they gave the sunroom a definite tropical feel.

  “Oh, this is nice, Mom. You’re lucky to live here.”

  Dorothy gave a snort. “It’s pleasant enough, but I won’t be enjoying it much longer.”

  “What do you mean? You’re not sick, are you?”

  “Of course not. In this family we drop dead without warning.”

  Dorothy said it with trenchant glee, but seeing Pam’s flinch, went on in a no
-nonsense tone. “Oh, come now, Pamela, you’re surely not being sensitive because of Jeff? After all, I lost my own husband in the same manner. I didn’t fall apart.”

  Her feelings weren’t the same as her mother’s. She had ached for many months after Jeff’s sudden death. Even thinking about his final moments pained her now. She’d never had a callous approach to life. Why didn’t Dorothy understand?

  “Pamela.” There was censure in Dorothy’s tone.

  “I can’t—” she struggled to get it out, “I can’t see life as you do. I don’t think personal tragedy is a good source of amusing quips.”

  Dorothy practically rolled her eyes. “Where did I get such a child? If I hadn’t given birth to you naturally and seen you born—quite a rebellious decision back in the day—I would swear the hospital gave me the wrong baby.”

  Her mother’s words mocked Pam’s sensitive nature. They lived nearly one hundred miles apart for a good reason. She couldn’t take a lot of this.

  Pam took a breath and let it out. “If you’re not ill, then why did you say you might not be here much longer? Are you thinking of moving to a retirement home?”

  “Bah, they’re prisons,” Dorothy said. “Remember that no one in my family lives to be ninety, and I’m eighty-seven already. You’d better face reality. I have at most three more years to live.”

  “You don’t know for sure.”

  “Of course I do. My brother died last year, and my sister the year before. Do you think that’s coincidence? No, it’s genetics. We Lanes don’t have the gene for exceptionally long life spans.”

  “You’re healthy. You’re not going to—to…” Her words trailed off.

  “Die. I’m going to die, Pamela. Don’t be so wishy-washy about saying the word.”

  Not only was her mother ragging on her again, but this conversation was becoming surreal. Pam gazed around the room, which looked completely normal, with sunshine pouring in through the many windows. The beach was empty and beautiful. Yet they were arguing about dying. “Why are you thinking about death?”