“And it is. ”
“Nannies notwithstanding. ”
Mother sighed. “Oh, Judith Anne. Not that old whine again. ”
“I’m sorry. You’re right,” Jude said, and not because it was the only response that would end the conversation. It was true. Jude was forty-six years old. She should have forgiven her mother by now. Then again, her mother had never asked for forgiveness, never thought it necessary, even though she’d checked out of motherhood as if it had been a cheap motel. Fast and in the middle of the night. Jude had been seven years old and suddenly upended by grief, and yet, after her father’s funeral, no one had thought to reach out for her, certainly not her own mother, who went back to work the very next day. In all the years that came after, her mother had never stopped working. She’d given up painting and become one of the most successful gallery owners in Seattle. She nurtured young artists while entrusting her daughter’s care to one nanny after another. They’d had no relationship whatsoever until about five years ago, when Caroline had called and scheduled lunch. Now, once a month, they pretended. Jude didn’t even know why.
“How are the children?” her mother asked.
“Wonderful,” Jude said. “Zach’s grades are phenomenal and Mia has become a talented actress. Daddy would have been proud of her. ”
Her mother sighed. It didn’t surprise Jude, that small exhalation of breath. Dad as a topic was off-limits. Jude had been a daddy’s girl; neither one of them wanted to acknowledge that now, all these years after his death, although Jude still missed him and his bear hugs. “I’m sure you’re right,” her mother said, smiling tightly. “I assume Zach can go to any school he wants. I hope he continues with his plans to become a doctor. It would be a shame if he quit his studies. ”
“I suppose that’s another reminder that I quit law school. I was pregnant and Miles was in medical school. We hardly had a choice. ”
“You lost the baby,” her mother said, as if that was what mattered.
“Yes,” Jude said quietly, remembering. She’d been young and in love, and honestly, for most of her life, she’d been afraid of motherhood, afraid that she would discover in herself some genetic anomaly that had been passed down from Caroline. She and Miles had gotten pregnant accidentally—too soon, when they weren’t ready—and Jude had discovered from the inception how profoundly she could love. The very idea of motherhood had transformed her.
“You have always loved your children too much. You care too much about making them happy. ”
Parenting advice from her mother. Perfect. Jude smiled thinly. “It’s impossible to love your children too much. Although I wouldn’t really expect you to understand that. ”
Her mother flinched. “Judith, why is it that you give that girl from the trailer park the benefit of every doubt, and you give me none?”
“Lexi—and you certainly know her name by now—has been like a part of this family for the past three years. She has never disappointed me. ”
“And I have. ”
Jude didn’t answer. What was the point? Instead, she stood up. “How about we have lunch now?”
Her mother rose. “That would be nice. ”
They spent the rest of the appointed time—exactly two hours, from twelve to two, talking about things that didn’t matter. When it was over, Mother kissed Jude perfunctorily on the cheek and went to the entry, where she paused. “Good-bye, Judith. Today was lovely. Thank you. ”
“Good-bye, Mother. ”
Jude stared through the open door at her mother’s slim figure, walking fast through the garden, not bothering to look at any of it. As hard as she tried to feel nothing, Jude experienced the free-form depression that always accompanied these lunches. Why was it that she couldn’t quite stop wanting her mother’s love? The Mercedes came to life with a throaty purr and drove slowly up the driveway.
On the entry table, a cordless phone lay next to a glass bowl filled with floating roses. Jude picked it up and punched in her best friend’s number.
“Hello?”
“Molly. Thank God,” Jude said, leaning against the wall. Suddenly, she was exhausted. “The wicked witch was just here. ”
“Your mother? Is it Wednesday?”
“Who else?”
“You want a drink?”
“I thought you’d never ask. ”
“Twenty minutes. Dockside?”
“See you there. ”
* * *