She’d found patterns easy to follow, until she lived her life by rote and found herself overlooked and undervalued.
It wasn’t all Peter’s fault. She’d allowed it. She gave up her choices because she’d never stopped to realize she had them. Carrie had surrendered her choices to a man who turned out to be brutal. The same had happened to Anna. Those women never suspected the men they loved would hurt them.
But Lillian had more choice than she gave herself credit for because of who she’d married. Now she had to trust herself, and Peter’s love for her, and become the woman she wanted to be—and the mother she wanted to be.
As she sat in the living room, she watched the firemen moving in an orderly way around the house. They’d done this sort of thing before. They had a protocol to follow. Lillian and her friends had no such rules to guide them through a situation like this. But at least they had each other.
Real women were not a chain of cutout paper dolls, as some would have people believe. Each one was different, special, unique—whether they were in trouble or, like Lillian, just finding their way. There needed to be a way to protect the Carries and Annas of the world, to protect their children, like Lillian and Carrie’s unborn baby.
Firemen carried Eli’s body past gawking neighbors out on the street. At least the rain had stopped.
As soon as the firemen removed Eli’s body, Lillian heaved a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he was gone. She felt compelled to open a window, letting the damp air’s melancholy chill cleanse the room. For a moment, the truth of all that brutality was whisked away on a sheer breeze. Consequences, and perhaps nightmares, would come later, but for now they needed air to breathe.
The police led the women, one by one, into the kitchen to be questioned. So far, everyone had been released from the interrogation spot back into the front yard, including Carrie. No one had been arrested, so Lillian hoped that meant everyone had stuck to Ruth’s plan and that it was working. Unless the police had additional inquiries up their sleeves.
“Lillian Diamond?” the officer asked, even though she was the only one left.
The detective indicated a kitchen chair and Lillian sat down. She knew she was strong, that she could toe the line when needed, but she’d never been challenged in quite this way. Never when a murder was involved.
She was expert in the truth—in hiding it, telling it, using half-truths—whichever would further what she needed. Right now, she faced the ultimate test of her grace. She prayed she wouldn’t turn into Humpty-Dumpty. Wouldn’t slip and break by speaking the wrong truth. In Carrie’s case, the whole truth put them all at risk. Details of Eli’s death would remain secret—unless Lillian cracked.
The weight of what happened, and the question of what would happen next, sat squarely on her chest.
The policeman got right to the point. “Mrs. Diamond, when did you become aware that Mr. Blum was home?”
As Lillian took in a breath, she was certain of one thing: Carrie was better off without Eli. Holding the scales of justice in her hands, Lillian wouldn’t risk Carrie’s future—any of their futures—by telling the truth. She owed it to her mother.
When Lillian was released, she went outside to the yard and found the Diamond Girls whispering in one corner. She walked over to Shirley and nodded toward Carrie.
“What happens now?” she whispered. “She can’t stay here.”
Shirley glanced toward Carrie and then back at Lillian. “Actually, we’ll help Carrie go wherever she wants. Our job is to get her somewhere safe, and technically, we’ve done that.”
“We can’t leave her to fend for herself!” Lillian swooped in with unexpected maternal verve, and she could tell by the look on Shirley’s face that her friend was surprised by it.
Lillian didn’t care. “We need to switch gears and get Carrie to whatever is next for her.” She would do it herself if she had to. Carrie might be physically safe from Eli, but the mental and emotional repercussions of what had happened were evident in her red-rimmed stare.
“Let’s find out what she wants,” Lillian said. “I venture no one has asked her that in a long time.”
Shirley smiled.
By late afternoon, the rain had completely stopped, and the September sun was poking out from behind a few high clouds. Lillian ignored the lure of the radio dial and opted for quiet in the car as they drove Carrie to the bus station downtown. Lillian looked at Carrie in the passenger seat, head turned, staring out the window. Thank God she was safe. Lillian wasn’t surprised that Carrie was despondent—she’d just lost her husband. But Ruth, Irene, and Harriet in the back seat were unusually quiet too.
Lillian understood why Carrie wanted to go home to Atlantic City, but it made no sense that she didn’t want to telephone her family to let them know she was coming.
“I’ll tell them in person,” Carrie had said before they’d left Wynnefield. “It’s going to be hard for them to hear Eli is gone, let alone anything else.”
“But you’re going to tell them what he was really like?” Ruth asked.
Carrie shrugged. “They might want to know why I’m not planning the funeral. I’ll tell them his sister is doing it because I’m too upset.” She shrugged again.
Lillian recognized uncertainty in Carrie’s downcast eyes and could surmise what she was probably thinking. She feared being blamed, or not believed, the way Lillian’s grandparents had blamed or doubted her mother.
Lillian shook her head to dispel the memory. She was sorry Carrie had been in danger, but at the same time, she was glad the women had stepped in to help her. For the first time in a long while, she’d felt a part of something important, something bigger than herself. Without saying much, Lillian had used her voice and made it clear to herself and to others what was critical—the safety and happiness of her friends.
Happiness had taken on a new meaning. It had more facets than a few hard-and-fast rules in a book.
When they reached the bus depot, Lillian pulled up to the curb. Ruth, Irene, and Harriet slid out of the back seat and lifted Carrie’s two suitcases out of the car. When Lillian started to leave the car to see Carrie off, Carrie stayed in her seat and turned to her.
“Thank you for everything,” Carrie said.
“It was all of us,” Lillian said. “And you’re welcome.”
“I mean for the etiquette lessons. Without them, I would never have met you all. Would have had no one to turn to. So thank you for having me, for teaching me.”
“It was nothing,” Lillian said.
Carrie touched her hand. “Oh, you’re wrong. You taught me to trust my friends and reminded me what it was like to have fun.”
Fun? “I don’t think—”
“Oh, I know that wasn’t the point,” Carrie said.
Yet why not? Lillian thought. Isn’t that the reason to have etiquette? To be graceful and kind—to enjoy life and each other? “It should have been the only point,” Lillian said, feeling suddenly humbled.
“It was one of the first things you told us—that we’d learn who our friends are. And I did. You kept your promise.” Carrie squeezed Lillian’s hand.