The last secret_ a novel - Mary McGarry Morris [96]
“All right,” she says when he pulls into their driveway. “He's strange, that's why. That's why I didn't say anything.”
“What do you mean, strange?”
“I don't know … like, the way he showed up. I mean, after all these years.”
“What's wrong with that? It happens.” With his scrutiny, she feels steadied by his concern, reassured. She's not alone in this.
“Because … because I can't stand him. And I couldn't then, and he knows it.” She hugs herself, shivering. Even this guarded admission floods her with relief “And … and him running into you like that, it gave me the creeps.” Her teeth chatter. “And now what, he shows up again? He comes to you?”
rom its beginning, Sojourn House has gotten by with two residential dishwashers, both donated. Now, with one broken and costing too much to repair, it seems time, Father Grewley says from the head of the conference table, to invest in a large, commercial-grade dishwasher.
It is 7:45 p.m. and this was a hastily convened meeting. With eight women and ten children currently sheltered here, kitchen efficiency is paramount, the priest continues. Nora nods. She is trying to pay attention, any problem a distraction from her own. She digs in her purse for a tissue. Pretending to wipe her nose, she's really trying to block the heavy smell of alcohol and musky perfume. It's coming from Letitia Crane, who sits beside her, lips pursed, twiddling her thumbs, alert for any point she can seize, then sermonize to death. As CraneCopley and Lyndell sink deeper into litigation and investigation, Letitia has become a most contentious presence at these meetings. Ever since the omission of her name from the House letterhead nothing escapes her boozy scrutiny. And yet, Nora thinks, aren't she and Letitia clinging to the same life raft here?
Father Grewley passes the pamphlet around. A brand-new, heavy-duty Exlon dishwasher for only a thousand dollars. The wholesaler has agreed to free installation and removal of the old appliances. All Father Grewley needs now is the board's approval. He looks exhausted. He was up all night. One of the House children, a five-year-old boy, had to be rushed to the emergency room, with a raging fever.
“Sure … sure … sounds good … great … aye …,” each member offers around the table.
“Of course!” Nora says, pained by her exaggerated brightness. Everything feels forced, false, really. She shouldn't even be here. Not the caliber of person they need. Or deserve. Especially tonight.
“Excuse me,” Letitia says rather loudly. Hers is the last vote. “But I think there's an even bigger issue here.” She poses it as a question.
“And what might that be?” Chris Arrellio asks. The only male on the board, he makes little effort to hide his impatience with her nitpicking.
“Communal spirit?” Letitia squints at him. “And so, here we are, once again, missing an opportunity to teach these women how to help themselves.”
Papers crinkle. Feet scrape under the table. No one speaks until Betsy Gleason's natural sweetness wafts through the mute censure.
“How, Letitia? In what way?”
Chris Arrellio gives a deep sigh in his suede bomber jacket. His car wash franchise has made him wealthy, but he wears his rough-edged, self-made persona with pride. Here it comes: no bs, cut to the chase. Any minute now, Nora thinks, this time welcoming it. His smirk doesn't deter Letitia. She's already off and running.
“Instead of always giving them free this and free that, isn't the best lesson of all self-reliance? By doing everything for them, aren't we just victimizing them more? Don't you see, they should be part of the solution. Instead of an expensive new dishwasher, they should be pitching in, helping out. Washing their own dirty dishes, for godsakes. I mean, what's—”
A light tap rattles the door. One of the new counselors, Dale Morgan, hurries in and whispers to Father Grewley Excusing himself, he leaves quickly. In his absence, dissension crabs its way around the table. Surprisingly, Letitia