Part 2
“What exactly are you organizing?”
Melissa stared at my hand resting on the back of my chair.
Then she smiled.
Not at me.
At everyone else.
“This,” she said. “This is what I mean.”
Caroline frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Melissa crossed her arms.
“Mom shouldn’t have to manage every family decision anymore.”
I let go of the chair.
“Which decisions?”
“Christmas.”
“You already mentioned Christmas.”
“Birthdays. Holidays. Dinners.”
She paused.
“Family things.”
Caroline leaned against the table.
“That means nothing.”
Melissa’s cheeks flushed.
“It means somebody needs to keep things organized.”
“I’ve been organizing them.”
Melissa looked at me.
“Exactly.”
The word landed harder than it should have.
Someone near the living room lowered the television volume.
I heard the click.
Caroline shook her head.
“You’re talking about her like she isn’t standing here.”
“I’m talking about helping her.”
“She didn’t ask.”
Melissa laughed once.
Short.
Sharp.
“Mom never asks.”
I stayed quiet.
My younger grandson carried an empty plate toward the kitchen, then stopped when nobody moved aside.
I stepped back for him.
Melissa noticed.
“See?”
I looked at her.
“See what?”
“You’re exhausted.”
“I moved two feet.”
“You’ve been on your feet all day.”
“It was Thanksgiving.”
“That’s my point.”
Caroline’s mouth tightened.
“No, your point keeps changing.”
Melissa turned on her.
“My point is Mom doesn’t need to carry everything anymore.”
“What exactly is she carrying?”
“You wouldn’t know.”
Caroline went still.
Melissa had found the place where she could hurt her.
“You show up,” Melissa continued. “You eat. You leave.”
“Melissa.”
That was me.
Nothing more.
She looked at me.
I shook my head once.
Don’t.
Caroline saw it.
Her shoulders dropped, but only slightly.
I knew what swallowing words looked like.
Melissa straightened the edge of the tablecloth.
“So yes, I’m organizing things properly.”
I picked up my coffee.
My fingers felt colder now.
“What else have you organized?”
Greg looked down immediately.
Melissa saw him do it.
Her face tightened.
Then Caroline spoke from behind me.
“Is this about Aunt June?”
Melissa’s head snapped toward her sister.
Nobody moved.
For a second, even Melissa seemed to forget how to breathe.
“What did you just say?” she asked.
Caroline’s confidence faded almost immediately.
“You heard me.”
“Why would you bring her up?”
“I asked a question.”
“Today?”
“Yes. Today.”
Melissa picked up two dessert plates.
They were already clean.
She carried them toward the counter anyway.
I watched her set them down.
Too carefully.
“June has nothing to do with this.”
My throat tightened at the name.
I kept my voice even.
“What does June have to do with anything?”
Caroline looked at me.
Then at Melissa.
That was enough.
“Caroline.”
Melissa’s voice changed.
Lower.
Warning.
Caroline rubbed one thumb over the edge of her napkin.
“I just thought—”
“No.”
Melissa turned around.
“We are not doing this.”
I looked between them.
“Doing what?”
“Nothing.”
“You both know something.”
Melissa shook her head.
“No, Mom.”
Caroline opened her mouth.
Melissa stepped closer.
“Don’t.”
A phone vibrated on the counter.
Melissa’s.
The screen lit for a moment.
I saw only two words before she grabbed it.
ST. LOUIS.
She turned the phone facedown.
My sister had died there four months earlier.
I looked at Melissa.
She was already speaking.
“You’re tired.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve had a long day.”
“So have you.”
“Exactly.”
Caroline stared at the phone.
Melissa moved it beneath a folded dish towel.
Then she looked toward the relatives still hovering between the dining room and living room.
“Maybe everyone should start heading out.”
I felt something shift around me.
Coats appeared.
Keys came off hooks.
Nobody asked me.
One of my cousins approached and squeezed my arm.
“Dinner was wonderful.”
“Thank you.”
She gave Melissa a quick look before walking away.
Another relative kissed my cheek.
“You get some rest.”
I almost asked why everyone suddenly thought I needed it.
I didn’t.
The front door opened.
Cold air slipped through the hall.
People began leaving my house because Melissa had decided the evening was over.
I stood beside my own table and watched them go.
Caroline waited until the door closed again.
Then she said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Melissa turned toward her.
“Done what?”
“Made everyone think something’s wrong with her.”
I felt the room shrink.
Melissa’s face changed.
Only for a second.
Then she said, “I never said anything was wrong with Mom.”
She had not needed to.
“You didn’t have to,” Caroline said.
I pressed my palm against the table.
Neither daughter noticed.
“What does June have to do with Christmas?” I asked.
Melissa took one step toward me.
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you afraid of her name?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then answer.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Mom, don’t turn this into drama.”
I stared at her.
“I asked a question.”
Caroline came around the table.
“Melissa.”
“No.”
“You need to tell her.”
Melissa’s head whipped toward her.
“Tell me what?” I asked.
Caroline stopped.
Her face had gone pale.
Melissa spoke first.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“I know enough.”
“Caroline.”
“She deserves to know.”
Melissa grabbed her purse from the counter.
“Know what?”
Neither answered.
I heard myself ask it again.
“What did June leave?”
Caroline’s eyes filled.
Melissa looked at her sister with open fury now.
That frightened me more than shouting would have.
Caroline finally said, “Something for you.”
My stomach pulled tight.
“What?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
Melissa closed her eyes.
Caroline kept going.
“I only know because I saw the message.”
“What message?”
“The executor.”
I turned to Melissa.
“You spoke to June’s executor?”
She said nothing.
Caroline nodded.
“She went to St. Louis.”
The room tilted slightly.
I grabbed the chair.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to stay steady.
“You went there?”
Melissa’s expression softened.
That almost made it worse.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A while ago.”
“Why?”
“She asked me to.”
“June?”
“No.”
Melissa looked away.
“Her executor.”
My hand tightened around the chair.
“Why would June’s executor call you?”
Caroline answered before Melissa could.
“Because he thought you couldn’t handle it yourself.”
I looked at my oldest daughter.
“Why?”
Melissa’s lips parted.
Nothing came.
Caroline whispered, “Tell her.”
Melissa glared at her.
“Stay out of this.”
“I’m already in it.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
Melissa turned toward me.
For the first time that night, she looked less angry than cornered.
“He needed someone responsible.”
I heard myself breathe.
“What did you tell him?”
Her silence answered before she did.
The front door opened again.
Unexpectedly, my brother-in-law stepped back inside.
He held his car keys in one hand.
“Forgot my glasses.”
Nobody spoke.
He looked from Caroline to Melissa, then to me gripping the chair.
His face tightened.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Melissa answered at the same time.
“She’s fine. Just tired.”
He looked at me.
Not her.
“You sure?”
I nodded.
He retrieved his glasses from the side table.
Before leaving, he touched my shoulder.
“You call me if you need anything.”
The door closed.
Melissa waited for the sound of his car starting.
Then she turned back to Caroline.
“That was unnecessary.”
Caroline stared at her.
“What was?”
“The performance.”
I let go of the chair.
My palm had left a damp print on the wood.
“What did you tell the executor?”
Melissa’s eyes flicked down to it.
Then back to me.
“Mom.”
“Answer me.”
She swallowed.
“I told him you weren’t available.”
Caroline shook her head.
“That’s not what you told him.”
My chest tightened.
Melissa’s face drained.
“Caroline.”
“What did she tell him?”
Caroline looked at me.
“She told him you were in memory care.”
No one moved.
I heard the refrigerator hum.
Then the clock.
Then my own breathing.
I looked at my daughter.
“You told someone I was in memory care?”
Melissa stepped forward.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
“It was temporary.”
I waited.
She seemed to hear what she had said only after the words were already between us.
“A lie is not temporary because you stop telling it.”
Her face hardened again.
“You don’t understand.”
I felt the chair behind my knees and sat down.
This time, not because Melissa told me to.
Caroline moved toward me.
I raised one hand.
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
Melissa looked at the floor.
Her phone buzzed beneath the towel again.
Nobody reached for it.
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