1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [82]
“This is exactly what I was afraid would happen,” Olivia said. They reached their cars, which were parked at the curb.
“What’s that?”
“Mom. The new kitchen’s overwhelmed her.”
“Are you afraid she’ll leave a burner on again?”
“No, actually, I don’t think Mom will turn on any of the burners unless it’s absolutely necessary. She won’t want to cook because she’s unfamiliar with the stove.”
“Mom not cook?”
“I know. That was one of her main objections to moving into assisted living. She still enjoys working in the kitchen.” She’d rejected the idea out of hand and then listed a number of excuses, that being the first.
“But she can still cook,” Will said, showing his frustration. “There’s a huge kitchen at Stanford Suites for anyone who wants to bake or prepare a meal.”
Olivia nodded. “I know.” But the person they needed to convince was their mother.
“It’s a shared kitchen,” she pointed out. “Mom’s used to her own pots and pans and, well, her own kitchen.”
“That kitchen is gone,” Will said.
He was right. The fire had destroyed more than a few cupboards, the walls and flooring. What had once been the heart of their childhood home had become a pile of ashes. In its stead was a sterile room that lacked the familiarity, the memories, of the past sixty years. In many respects Olivia felt the same disappointment her mother did. She wanted everything to go back to the way it was, although that was obviously impossible.
“What do you suggest we do now?” Will asked.
“I…I don’t know.” Olivia didn’t expect it would be easy for Charlotte to make the transition, leaving the only home she’d known all her adult life. “Do you have any suggestions?”
Will shook his head. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and shrugged. “This is hard.”
“You’re telling me?”
“I hoped Ben would see the wisdom of moving and smooth the way.”
“It’s as unsettling for him as it is for Mom,” Olivia commented.
“After all the moves he’s made in his navy career, one would think it’d be old hat.”
“One would think,” Olivia murmured. “The thing is, I don’t want Mom to feel we’re kicking her out of her own home. We can’t force her to leave, nor should we. She has to accept this and she hasn’t. Not yet.”
“Part of the problem,” Will said, “is that she’s afraid of what’ll happen to the house if she isn’t there.”
It was a point worth considering. “She loves this house.”
“The first question she asked was if we’d sell it,” Will reminded her, frowning. “Eventually we’d have to do that, and I get the feeling that upsets her more than the need to move.”
Olivia sighed. “We wouldn’t have any option. Renting it out could be a nightmare,” she said half to herself, remembering the troubles Grace had encountered when she rented out her house on Rosewood Lane. Olivia hated the thought of anyone vandalizing her family home, which was exactly what had happened to Grace’s house. No, renting wasn’t an option she wanted to consider.
“Ben might be more amenable to the idea than he’s led us to believe.”
“Really?” Olivia could only hope her brother was right. “Did he say anything to you?”
“Not directly, but I could tell how concerned he was when Mom first saw the new stove. He loves Mom, and realized right away how flustered and unsure she is with all these changes.”
Olivia nodded; she’d seen the same doubt and hesitation in her mother’s eyes and it had shaken her. Charlotte seemed almost childlike in her reaction to the changes taking place around her.
“If you have any ideas, let me know,” Will said. He reached for his car keys.
“Any plans tomorrow?” Olivia asked.
“Not really. What have you got in mind?”
“Jack wants to watch the Seahawks game on TV and you’d be welcome to join us.”
“One o’clock?” he asked.
“Perfect. See you then.”
Olivia hoped she and Will could continue their conversation the next day. Surely they could come up with a solution. The problem had seemed less immediate while Charlotte and Ben were living with them, since both