Part 7
After the attorneys finished, the judge denied the petition. She referred to the independent reports, my ability to understand and manage my affairs, and the lack of evidence supporting the control Ben had requested. She didn’t decide what should happen to him over the loan application; that was a separate matter.
I sat still until Rachel touched my sleeve. Ben was gathering his papers, and Caroline had already turned toward her parents. I put the folder under my arm and followed Rachel into the hall.
Ben looked at me as he passed. He didn’t come over, and I didn’t follow him. Dennis waited by the elevators, holding my jacket.
Evelyn called on the drive home. “What happened?”
“They denied it. I’m still in charge.”
She let out a long breath, then asked whether I’d eaten. Dennis pointed toward a diner ahead of us. I told her we were about to.
That evening, Ben sent a message: We found an apartment. We’ll leave by the deadline. Tell the agent to arrange any visits through me.
I forwarded it to Rachel and answered: Thank you for letting me know. I wanted to ask where they were going, whether the children would change schools, and how they’d manage the expense. I didn’t add any of those questions.
During September, our messages concerned dates, keys, and things June and I had left at the house. Ben asked which boxes I wanted, and I sent a list. I didn’t ask whether Neal was helping them move or how the shop was paying its bills.
I kept checking the phone even when there was nothing to arrange.
One afternoon, Ben’s number appeared on my phone, and Lucy’s voice came through. She wanted to ask about a bird we’d seen on the waterfront before the trip. I’d called it a gull, but she thought the head had looked different from the one in the guide.
“You could be right,” I said. “We’ll have to look more carefully next time.”
She talked for ten minutes about the birds she’d seen lately. I pulled my chair to the window and watched an empty patch of sky while she described them. Before she handed the phone back, she asked whether I knew how to make Grandma’s muffins.
“I found the recipe.”
“Small pieces of ginger.”
“She wrote that down.”
“I didn’t know she wrote that down.”
“She wrote down quite a lot.”
Ben came on to confirm the time for returning the keys. His voice was tired, but he stayed long enough to answer when I asked whether the children were going to the same school. The apartment was ten minutes away from it, he said.
On the last Saturday in September, I met Tessa at the house. The moving truck had gone. Caroline was in the car with Owen; Lucy stood beside her holding an empty plant pot.
Ben opened the front door for us. Without the furniture, the hall looked narrower than I remembered. A scrape on the pantry door was still there, and warm air rattled through the floor vent when the furnace started.
There was a box on the kitchen counter with the dishes and photographs I’d requested. June’s wooden measuring spoon lay on top. She’d always insisted it held more than a tablespoon and adjusted recipes rather than replacing it.
Ben put three sets of keys beside the box.
“I didn’t think you’d let it get this far,” he said.
I picked up the keys. He looked toward the bare living room, then told me the apartment was smaller and the children would share a bedroom. He said it without asking for anything.
“They’ll still be close to school,” I said.
“Yes.”
I wanted to ask about the bedrooms, the rent, the furniture they’d had to leave behind. In the past, I would have reached for my checkbook before he finished answering. I put the keys in my pocket and lifted the box instead.
“Ben, you can call me to talk. I’m not ready to discuss money or the case with you.”
He looked at me. “Okay.”
I couldn’t tell how he understood the invitation.
Outside, Lucy came over with the pot. June had grown basil in it; Caroline had later used it for a succulent. There was a ring of soil around the inside and a chip beneath the rim.
“Can I keep this?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She put it down before she hugged me. Her arms went around my waist, and I rested my hand on the back of her head. For a few seconds, nobody called her away.
Owen got out of the car to show me his missing tooth. He pushed his tongue through the gap and explained that it had come out at breakfast. I asked whether it had hurt.
“Not really.”
He hugged me too, then ran back to the car. Lucy picked up the pot, and I watched her settle it between her feet. Ben closed the car door carefully before getting in.
After they drove away, Tessa asked whether I wanted to walk through the house once more. I said no. She would arrange the photographs and put it on the market the following week.
That evening, I opened the binder to June’s muffin recipe. I measured one ingredient wrong, caught it before I’d mixed anything together, and started again. The finished muffins were darker than hers, but the ginger was in small pieces.
I ate one while it was still too warm. I put some aside for Dennis and Patti and froze several for the children, without knowing when they’d come over. Then I washed the bowl and left the binder on the counter instead of returning it to the box.
On Sunday, I packed a small bag. I’d booked two nights at a modest inn on the Olympic Peninsula, with no plans beyond reaching the water and seeing how far my knee felt like walking. Dennis helped me carry the box from the house into my storage space before I left.
“Patti wants a picture of the coast,” he said.
“I’ll send one.”
At the inn, the clerk gave me a key and asked whether I needed help with my bag. I said I could manage and thanked her. Upstairs, I set the muffins on the table beside the window, then unpacked my shirts.
I put the phone in my jacket pocket and went down to the beach with a copy of Lucy’s field guide. The path was uneven near the end, so I took my time and used the railing. At the bottom, I stopped to let another couple pass before stepping onto the sand.
A bird stood near the edge of the water. I opened the book, compared the markings, and took a photograph for Lucy. I couldn’t see the picture well in the glare, so I put the phone away to check it later.
There was a bench farther along the beach. I sat down and stretched my legs, keeping the book beside me. For a while, I watched the bird move ahead of the water, then turn back when it receded.
The next wave reached farther up the beach. I lifted my feet, watched it retreat, and stayed for the one after it.