Page 66 of The Housekeeper

Chapter Twenty-seven

Not that Ididn’t try to see her.

But between the time of my last visit and her death just over two months later, I was rebuked at every turn.

In the beginning, I decided it would be best to give my father some space, to let the dust settle, allow cooler heads to prevail. Surely he would come to understand why I’d been so upset, that I only had my mother’s—and his—best interests at heart.

“What did you expect?” Tracy asked when I told her what had happened, as if she’d suspected what was going on all along. “The man hasn’t had sex in years, and Elyse looks pretty good for a woman her age. Finally, he’s getting laid. Can you blame him?”

It was only after I told her that he’d given Elyse Mom’s sapphire-and-diamond earrings that she grew indignant.

“I knew right from the start she was trouble,” she said. “So, what do we do now?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything wecando.”

“You never should have hired her.”

“Thank you. That’s very helpful.”

“The next time you go over there,” Tracy said, ignoring my sarcasm, “you should just take off with the rest of Mom’s jewelry.”

“You’re suggesting that I steal it?”

“Well, it doesn’t look as if Dad’s just going to give it to you. And it wouldn’t be stealing exactly. I mean, it’s supposed to be ours eventually anyway.”

I have to admit that I’d been thinking the same thing. Not that any of the jewelry, other than a few select pieces, most notably the sapphire-and-diamond earrings, was especially valuable. It was more the idea that these pieces, whatever their worth, should go to us, her daughters, and not the outsider who was bedding our father.

But every time I called my parents’ house to say I was thinking of stopping by, I was told to think again.

“Now isn’t a good time,” my father would tell me. “Your mother is having a nap.”

“She had a rough night,” Elyse would say. “Best not to disturb her.”

“Try again tomorrow.”

“Try again next week.”

What I tried was a different approach. “The kids would love to come by this weekend for a swim,” I suggested.

“We’ve closed the pool,” my father informed me.

“So early?”

“No earlier than usual,” he said, although it was only mid-September and he’d always kept the pool open at least another month.

“Give them time,” Harrison advised. “You’ve obviously ruffled their feathers. You have a way of doing that,” he added with a smile. The smile did nothing to disguise the remark’s inherent criticism. I believe the expression is “kidding on the square,” a remark that allows you to be mean without owning it. “But they’ll come around,” he added before I could react.

They didn’t.

The more time passed, the more things deteriorated. Harrison went back to his writing schedule and resumed his usual complaints regarding my work and the kids; I tried not to thinkabout Roger McAdams, who, I was told by another agent in my office, had temporarily abandoned his search for a condo. I wondered if that had anything to do with me, and fought the daily urge to contact him. September became October.

And then one day, out of the blue, Elyse phoned. “Your father is going out for a while this morning,” she said, “and I was thinking that you might like to stop by for a visit while he’s away.”

“I’d like that,” I told her before she could rethink her offer.

“Come in one hour.”

Exactly an hour later, I pulled into their driveway. Elyse was waiting at the front door. Her hair had been freshly styled, as if she’d just come from having it done, and she was wearing formfitting leather pants and an expensive-looking white silk shirt. Not exactly the uniform of someone whose job it was to cook and clean. More the look of the well-heeled lady of the house, I thought, wondering if the look was deliberate, if she was sending me some sort of message. Best to keep such thoughts to myself, I decided. No point in ruffling any more feathers.