I thought for a moment. “You could have bought the cottage with your share.”
“No, I couldn’t have.”
“What do you mean?”
She closed her eyes. “That was the fight at Helen’s funeral, you see.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
June 1991
Hereford, Massachusetts
Evelyn no longer flinched at the sound of earth hitting a coffin. After Vivie, Miriam, Joseph, Gertie, and Sam, by Helen’s funeral, a mere seven months after Sam’s, she could shovel in her spade of dirt, hand it to the next mourner, and be done.
But now it was just Bernie, Margaret, and her. Fewer than half of the Bergman children. She looked at Bernie, who showed every one of his seventy-one years and resembled Joseph more and more by the day. Margaret was closer to her age, which wasn’t so bad. Losing Sam had been a blow, but she still had Bernie and Margaret. For now at least.
And it was easier with Anna there. Joan hadn’t come, but Anna had brought the children. And there was nothing like slipping one hand into Jenna’s and the other into Beth’s to take the sting out of a situation. She glanced at her daughter, who was trying so hard to hide the morning sickness of a third pregnancy. She’ll tell me when she’s ready, she thought. There’s no rush.
Fred drove them back to Bernie’s house, where they would sit shiva. Only three days instead of the seven they used to observe. The world had moved on, and if you weren’t Orthodox, most people didn’t want to give up a whole week to mourn the dead anymore.
Evelyn had assumed they would stay at the cottage, because why wouldn’t they? But it had passed to Sam when Joseph died, and with Sam gone, Louise was the owner. She was cryptic on the phone, saying it was occupied, so they rented rooms at the Inn, where the children could play on the beach in the mornings before going to Bernie’s house.
It was a shock to see that Bernie’s and Helen’s children were now in their late forties, and their grandchildren who used to toddle around the beach were now young adults.
She picked at the deli plate on her lap, uninterested, looking around the room with the watchful eyes of a cat.
Then Louise entered.
And Evelyn pounced.
“Darling,” she said, kissing her sister-in-law on the cheek. “How are you?”
The question was a formality. She looked terrible even before Sam died, and his recent death had not helped.
“Not so good.” Louise dabbed at her eyes. “This feels like Sam’s all over again.”
“Well, it’s the same people, after all.” Evelyn took her by the arm and led her to a chair. She let her get settled and brought her a drink of water before sitting next to her. “Now, be honest with me—are you renting out the cottage?”
Louise twitched guiltily.
“I figured out your little secret. I understand, of course, but you still should have told us. I don’t mind paying you to use it when we want to, but I do expect you’ll make it available for us.”
“I—”
“I understand it’s legally yours, but it’s all of ours still. You know that.”
“Evelyn, I sold it.”
Evelyn stared at her sister-in-law.
“It wasn’t fair; you all expected it to be yours whenever you needed, and Lord knows Sam didn’t leave so much money, and I—”
“You sold my cottage?” Evelyn’s voice was loud, and everyone looked over.
“It wasn’t yours. It was Sam’s.”
“It was ours! It wasn’t yours to sell!”
Bernie appeared at Evelyn’s side, Fred following quickly, Jenna peeking around the door frame, having followed her grandfather. “Outside, now,” Bernie ordered his sister, but Evelyn wasn’t budging.
“Is it done? Or still happening?” Evelyn’s eyes were flashing. Margaret came into the room and crossed her arms.
“I—it’s not final, but it will be next week.”
“Over my dead body it will.” She gestured to Bernie and Margaret. “We’ll buy it instead.”
“Evelyn,” Bernie said calmly. “Outside.”
She looked at her brother. “Don’t you talk to me like I’m a child.”
“Evelyn,” Margaret said, putting a gentle hand on her sister’s arm. “Come out on the porch.”
“I already talked to them,” Louise said shrilly.
Evelyn turned to her siblings, looking carefully at their faces, then marched out the front door, Bernie and Margaret following.