In gratitude, to show solidarity, Lillian grabbed a cookie. She didn’t really care if Pammie went to college, but she was driven, in that moment, to make her daughter understand that she could go to college. Lillian’s daughters—and even the Diamond Girls—should be sharp when it came to their own needs.
That’s what had prompted Lillian’s stress this afternoon. Once Ruth had brought up the idea of self-awareness, it had embedded itself in her. Maybe that was what bothered Shirley too.
“Ask Sunny,” Pammie said.
“Ask me what?”
“Mother asked us if we were happy,” Penny said.
Lillian’s limbs prickled, feeling suddenly covered in frost to the point of frozen. She’d never have asked Sunny if she were happy. A lifetime of connection, years of employment, and Lillian had no idea what Sunny’s answer might be.
Was happiness that far outside of Lillian’s perception?
“That was considerate of her, don’t you think?” Sunny asked.
Pammie shrugged. “Are you happy?”
Lillian wished she could whisk her words into the bin along with the invisible dust from Sunny’s shoulders. Yet, at the same time, she needed to hear the answer. Lillian also wanted to know whether her mother had been happy until her father died. And yet at age thirty-five, she was somehow reluctant to find out. To ask the questions.
Sunny sat on the step and inhaled a big gulp of air, as if resigned to her fate or ready to deliver a monologue. “Well, let me see, I had a husband I loved, and now my son is a teacher. I own my house, and I do good work that I enjoy. I’m glad to wake up every day. I guess I’d say I’m happy.”
Not a bad list. Lillian finally understood. Happiness differed for each person. There was no universal measurement. Darn. If happiness was something she wanted, she’d have to figure out what it meant. To her.
“You’re happy even though you cook and clean for your job?” Pammie said.
Lillian gasped at her child’s impudence. “Pammie, apologize.”
With a wave of her hands, Sunny shooed away Lillian’s embarrassment. “It’s not what you do, but why you do it,” she said to Pammie. “I work for your parents for the same reason I worked for your grandparents. Your grandma Anna was one of my dearest friends. I promised her I’d watch over your mother. And I have.”
Their penchant for fiction had tethered them through high school, even though Sunny’s family had moved to a duplex on the far side of Fairmount Park.
The wrong side, according to Anna’s mother.
The girls drifted apart when Anna married Percy and moved to Overbrook Park. But years later, when Sunny showed up on Anna’s doorstep as a young widow in need of a job, Anna hired her on the spot, their bond unbroken. A friendship restored.
“But our grandmother doesn’t know you’re here,” Penny said. The girls only knew that their grandmother lived in a hospital.
“I know I’m here,” Sunny said. “That’s what’s important. Anna still matters to me.”
Lillian shuddered at the revelation that this job was meaningful to Sunny not because of her, but because of her mother. Lillian didn’t know if Sunny needed the money—certainly the wages weren’t enough to live on, even in Parkside—or if she was tethered to a long-ago promise.
The housekeeper gathered up the empty Coke bottles. “Your grandmother loved being a housewife and mother. It takes a special person to put everyone else first, to plan meals and activities, to stick to a budget, to be a nurse and a teacher for a grown man, and to raise children.”
“You hear that?” Pammie was almost shouting at Lillian. “I’m like you and I’m like my grandmother.”
God forbid. A crashing wave of emotions—from grateful to embarrassed, from devastated to elated—ran from the tips of Lillian’s toes to the pit lodged in her throat, like she was watching an episode of The Edge of Night.
“I want you to be like yourself, Pammie.” This was Lillian’s most maternal thought ever, and it came out sounding a bit stern.
“Mother, don’t be silly. Who else could I be? I’m happy that I’m going to have a wonderful husband. You and Daddy said you would buy me and my future husband a house as a wedding gift. What on earth do I not have to be happy about? I know you went to college, but Donald’s not going, so why would I want to?”
For the first time, Lillian regarded Pammie as if she were a bird in a gilded cage who’d never been shown she had the ability to fly. Yet Penny had learned on her own, no credit to Lillian.
She had not equipped either of her daughters with the tools to gauge their own happiness, or even their own capacity for happiness. No wonder Lillian couldn’t assess her own.
“Yoo-hoo. Anyone there?” a woman’s voice called from beyond the hedges.
Sunny descended the path to greet the visitor. Duke, a black-and-white springer spaniel, pulled five-year-old Susie Gold into the front yard. The dog went right to Pammie, who tousled the furry neighbor and scratched behind his ears. Mrs. Gold followed close behind her daughter. “I’m sorry,” she said, “Duke has a mind of his own and no manners.”
“That’s okay,” Pammie said. “He knows I love him, don’t you, boy?” She nuzzled the dog.
“We were hoping you’d say that. Mr. Gold and Susie and I have a bar mitzvah in Wilmington in two weeks, and we’ll be gone all day. We were wondering if you might like to dog-sit. You’d have to walk and feed him, but otherwise . . .”
“Yes!” Pammie looked at Lillian, the teen’s eyes wide with joy and anticipation. “I mean, may I?”
Pammie had always loved animals, but Peter had said no to any pets, except for the occasional carnival goldfish won with the accurate toss of a ping-pong ball. Armed with only water from the spigot and fish food flakes, Pammie had kept her last fish alive for three months. She’d spent hours reading about goldfish, staring through the bowl.
Peter had said she was obsessed. Thinking about it now, Lillian would reclassify that as happy. Yes, happiness was an individual thing.
Though a goldfish wasn’t a dog, maybe this was a nudge. Pammie could work in a pet store or for a vet. She could study animal husbandry. Funny word. Lillian was steps ahead and decided to play devil’s advocate. “Taking care of a dog is different from playing with one,” she said to disguise her enthusiasm.
“It really would be a big help,” Mrs. Gold said. “I hate the idea of a kennel, but we’ll have to leave early in the morning, and we won’t be home until after dinner. How about if we do a trial run?”
Pammie nodded, with no attempt to hide her excitement. “When?”
Mrs. Gold glanced at her watch. “Tonight? Penny can come too—keep Susie out of our hair.”
Lillian’s daughters pleaded with clasped hands. Could she really say no to them?
“And they can stay for dinner if that’s okay. To learn Duke’s routine.”
“Are you sure?” Lillian asked, to be polite. She and Peter would have an evening to themselves.
Susie smiled and nodded. “We’re sure.”
Duke barked as if adding his vote, and they all laughed.