Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [12]
“No wonder.”
Joe expected Renie to say more, but she didn’t, which made him feel even worse. “Do you really think she’s completely worn out?”
“Yes,” Renie said, “I do. You two should have gone on vacation in January. After the holidays, she started to really go downhill. In fact, it wouldn’t hurt her to take two vacations, one with me and one with you. I still can’t believe you haven’t seen how tired and frazzled she is lately.”
“I know she’s tired,” Joe said, conscious of the serious note in Renie’s words. “But I’ve been so damned busy, what with the case I’m on right now and the trial coming up next week. Yeah, it sounds lame, but there it is. I’m not as young as I used to be, either.”
“Who is?” Renie sounded sympathetic. “Think about poor Bill, stuck with that nutcase up at Bayview Hospital. I almost canceled when he told me he couldn’t go, but I was afraid I’d lose the Cruz account. I’m sorry you don’t want her to go. The decision is yours.”
Guilt. “You learned this from your mother, didn’t you?”
“What?” Renie sounded puzzled.
“The guilt-trip thing. Aunt Deb invented it, didn’t she? Or if not, honed it to a fine art.”
“You bet,” Renie retorted. “And think of all the crap I’m going to put up with because I’ll be gone for two weeks. It’s almost not worth it. But,” she went on, “that’s a separate issue. I firmly believe that your wife’s health is precarious.”
Joe was silent for a few moments. He’d been caught off guard by Renie’s solemn attitude. She’d managed to scare him about Judith’s health. And, he grudgingly admitted to himself, the decision was his wife’s, not his. “Okay, she can go.”
“Good,” said Renie. “I’ll return her in a much improved condition.” She hung up.
Judith returned to the kitchen as Joe placed the phone back in its cradle. “Were you talking to Renie?” she asked in a despondent voice.
“Wow!” Joe cried. “Your hair looks terrific! This is the first chance I’ve had to see it in the light. By the time I got up, you were already scurrying around the house.”
Judith was skeptical. “Thanks.” She started loading the dishwasher with the tableware she’d brought in from the dining room.
“Let me do that,” Joe said, nudging her out of the way. “In fact, let me take over for the day. You could use some time to yourself.”
Judith wasn’t just skeptical, she was suspicious. Maybe this was Joe’s way of making up for vetoing the cruise. “How come?” she asked.
Joe put the last of the teaspoons in the silverware compartment. “Because,” he said, putting his hands on Judith’s sagging shoulders, “you have to pack. May I be the first to wish you bon voyage?”
THREE
JUDITH SPENT THE rest of Wednesday in a frenzy of sorting clothes, going through the old trunk and some other boxes in the basement, and filling her suitcases. In the basement, nostalgia had overcome her. Four generations of Grovers had stored items there: Grandma and Grandpa’s first string of Christmas tree lights; Uncle Cliff’s fishing-tackle box; her father’s business-skills teaching texts; Auntie Vance’s movie posters, including King Kong, The Thin Man, and The Wizard of Oz; photos of Uncle Al taken in the winner’s circle at various West Coast and Florida racetracks; Uncle Corky’s World War II army cap with its twin silver bars denoting his captain’s rank; Aunt Ellen’s high school yearbooks; Mike’s handprint in plaster from his kindergarten days; the white-and-gold sari Judith had worn for her first wedding. She’d been sorry, all right, for nineteen years.
Judith also exchanged a half-dozen phone calls with Renie, checking on details and schedules. She not only wasn’t tired, she couldn’t remember when she’d been so excited. Even breaking the news to Gertrude went better than she’d expected.
“You have been looking peaked lately,” her mother allowed. “Though I don’t know why you need to go off on a boat to a bunch of islands where they probably have cannibals who’ll make you into a stew. Not that you’ve got much meat on your bones.”
“I’ve looked up the Cook Islands,” Judith replied.