On the second-to-last day they all gathered on the terrace for cocktails as usual, but after a moment everyone left—except her sons. Polly knew to be wary, yet she had the pathetic hope that they had a good surprise for her. No such luck. They spoke to her again about the practicality of signing over the properties to them, reminding her about the cost of nursing homes, medical issues, and so on. They each spoke this time, including Theo, as if this would be more convincing. A united front, with her best interests at heart. She repeated her decision of the summer before.
“Your father would want me to go on as I am.”
“I disagree,” James said. “Ma, Dad believed men should shoulder the responsibility for things like this.”
“But Meadowlea was never his,” she said. “He never had responsibility for it. And if it seemed he did, that was because I wanted him to feel respected. As everyone wants.” There was a shifting around of bodies and postures. “And to bolster his male ego,” she said, grateful for Agnes for pointing this out so many times over the years. She saw it clearly now. “I’m fine as is,” Polly assured them.
James leaned forward, hands laced. Such a good jaw. Why was that handsome? A hardwired signal, she guessed, meaning… what? A good hunter? Easier to chew raw meat with such a strong jaw?
“Ma,” he said. “We don’t understand why Robert is here.”
She didn’t follow. Or didn’t want to.
“It made sense in the beginning when he’d just got out of prison. It was nice of you to help him out. But now he’s on his feet—so why is he still here? That’s what concerns us. There have been cases of nurses and lawyers who swindle old people—”
She raised her hand. “Stop this right now. I don’t want to hear another word about this.”
“I know this is difficult, but it has to be considered,” James said. Theo looked at her with sympathy and concern, but he was a part of this, too. She remembered that he’d explained that he’d live on without her and with his brothers.
“Robert is a good man, but you never know,” Knox said.
“I know.” She stared at him. “I know.” This was what they imagined was going on? Robert was priming her for the moment he could slip a paper in front of her that she’d sign to their detriment? It wasn’t even possible within the Fellowship agreement. When had they become so suspicious? It physically hurt her; she felt it like a blow. “I am your mother.” She pushed herself up. “Robert is your friend. You have known him your whole life.”
“Ma, we didn’t mean to upset you, we’re trying to do what’s right.”
“I am doing what’s right. How can you not know that?”
They ringed around her, anxious now. They’d never liked it when she lost her near-perpetual good cheer.
“Move, please.” She swam her arms in a breaststroke, clearing them aside.
“Where are you going?” James said. “You’re not going to tell Robert, are you?”
Polly gave him a withering look. “Why would I do that? It would hurt him.”
As she headed down the terrace steps, she heard Theo say, “I told you you were wrong about that. It’s paranoid. And greedy.”
And that’s with the benefit of the doubt, Polly thought. Which James wouldn’t understand.
CHAPTER 35 Agnes, Leeward Cottage, August 2002
AGNES WAS TALKING TO HER father’s gravestone when she heard a voice.
“Nessie, Nessie!”
Who was calling her name? She was too far away to think it through. Wait—was it Polly? Polly!
Polly came huffing up, and when she was close she bent over, hands on thighs. To catch her breath.
“Are you running from the law?” Agnes asked.
Polly straightened. “Scarier. My children. Nessie, they’re such beasts!”
“No comment,” Agnes replied.
They hadn’t spoken in nearly a year. Agnes was ready. She was tired. Her efforts to secure the Point hadn’t worked. She had many thoughts about that, ranging from outraged judgments of her enemies to a more philosophical recognition of the differing opinion of others, but mainly she’d been cut down to size by ill health and age.
She had tried and failed. Now she missed having a friend. And she’d even considered the possibility that the friend might have a point, too. Perhaps it was up to the next generation to decide what to do with the Point. Perhaps when James became a principal, the responsibility would shift his perspective more toward preservation. They always said Supreme Court justices grew into the job. Maybe James and Archie would, too. Perhaps, perhaps. She was done. The chemo was exhausting her.
“What happened, Pol?”
“They’re suspicious of Robert’s motives.”
“No!”
“They actually used the phrase ‘horning in.’ Knox did.”
“Theo?”
“He was there and silent.”
Agnes shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. It’s so disappointing.”
Suddenly they both had tears in their eyes. It had been a long year. They linked arms, walked slowly around, as they’d done hundreds of times.
“I really am sorry, Pol.” She looked over shyly.
Polly shook her head. Her child’s wispy haircut blew across her cheeks. She pulled hair from her mouth.
“Nessie, I’m the one who’s sorry. I let you down.”
“And I expected too much of you, to ignore your children.”
“Well. You may have been right about that. I don’t understand how they could be so bossy.”
Agnes’s mind screamed, You don’t? But she had learned a few things, and just listened.
“They wouldn’t do it to Dick.”
“No, they wouldn’t do it to Dick.”
Polly sighed. “Though I wonder how much was me wanting both the children and myself to believe he was more than he was.”
Agnes was shocked. She’d never heard Polly say anything like this, though it was long overdue. Yet again she hung back with her opinion.
“I think he betrayed me, truth be told. The dog? Remember Dick was supposed to call the police to pick it up?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think he did.” Polly shook her head and toed the grass. “I don’t think he did. Hope is the same dog.”
“I know. Robert told me. I thought about it myself. Listen—there’s a possibility that Dick did call but the owner went and got the dog back from the shelter. Or he may have forgotten quite innocently. He was having those little strokes.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, I do.” She’d never say otherwise. The days of her opinions about Dick were over.
They had wandered to Lydia’s grave. In the old custom of the graveyards around, her stone, laid flat in the ground, was etched with a lamb. A dead child.
“She was so lovely,” Agnes said.
After a pause, Polly spoke in a quiet voice. “I still see her, you know.”
Agnes understood that she’d been entrusted with a great confidence. “I’m glad.”
“You believe me?” Polly grabbed at her arm and stared at her.