The last secret_ a novel - Mary McGarry Morris [91]
Normal, Nora thinks, leaning back as the waitress serves their entrees, swordfish for each. Normal has a whole new meaning now. Normal is what other people have.
“Actually,” Kay says, cutting an asparagus spear, “I haven't been sleeping too well myself lately.”
“Work?” She drinks more wine.
Kay shrugs.
“Lousy market, huh?”
“Try dead! Yesterday my phone never even rang. Not once. Not one single time.”
“Yes it did!” Nora says with a forced smile and a glance at the wine bucket. Her glass is empty, but she doesn't want to seem as anxious as she feels. “What about my call?” Kay has barely touched her first glass. Nora's nightly wine with dinner has become two glasses, filled to the brim. Three. Nothing wrong with a little numbing, she told Ken the other night when he asked if she realized she was pouring her fourth, the end of the bottle. And what could he say? Nothing. Just look away. Strange how his sense of defeat excites her. Makes her want him, loving and hating him more. Twisted and sick. But she needs to see his pain, to know she's not the only one hurting. She even enjoys his problems at the paper. He's in way over his head and for the first time in his life he needs her.
“You're right. And I appreciate that, Nor, I do. It's just lately, I don't know, I feel so, well, kind of, overwhelmed.”
Stunned, for a moment she's not sure what to say. In many ways Kay has always reminded her of her mother, resilient, unmarked by life's blows. Self-possessed, the kind of woman men feel comfortable with. Maybe too comfortable, Kay has complained in recent years. There have been a few relationships, the longest, two years with a New York City stockbroker. According to Kay, the timing wasn't right. He was a great guy, but newly divorced, paying huge alimony and wary of marriage. Faithfully alternating his weekends between his teenage children and flying up to see Kay began to take its toll. He begged her to move in with him, but all her years of hard work were beginning to pay off She finally had her own agency. She wasn't about to give it up and then have to start all over again if things didn't work out, especially with a young child to consider. Her agency is now one of the biggest in town. She is the devoted mother of brilliant Louis, now in his second year of medical school. Kay's is a much respected voice in town government and community affairs. At the moment, though, she seems weary, hesitant, a ghost of herself.
Another month like this, she is saying, and she'll have to close her office and run things from the house. Nora says she didn't realize real estate was that bad. It's not just the business, Kay admits. Her mother's Alzheimer's has worsened to the point that her needs can't be met by the nursing home she's in now. Hillside in Bellham has much better treatment, more specialized, but it's expensive. Far beyond her mother's resources, but Kay is determined to find a way. Nora's thoughts drift to her own mother. Dying suddenly. Too soon, Emily Shawcross said from behind while Robin kneeled at the bier, her arm around Nora. After Ken, Nora had next called Kay with the devastating news, and then Robin. But it was Robin who arrived first at the house. Robin who took the children while she and Ken drove to Colchester to make the funeral arrangements. Robin who filled the freezer with meals for the week ahead. Robin, indispensable, irresistible Robin, the only living person to whom she ever told the truth about Mr. Blanchard and the vicious lie that drove him from her mother's life. “You were scared, honey, that's all, scared of losing your