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By Root 1256 0

way. You were supposed to feel bad about missing the sixties, but Madeleine didn’t. She felt as if she’d been spared a lot of nonsense, that her generation, while inheriting much that was good from that decade, had a healthy distance from it as well, saving them from the whiplash that resulted from being a Maoist one minute and a suburban mother, in Beverly, Massachusetts, the next. When it turned out that Alwyn wasn’t going to spend her life riding on the back of Grimm’s motorcycle, when Grimm left her in a campground in Montana without even saying goodbye, Alwyn called home to ask Phyllida to wire money for a plane ticket to Newark, and, a day and a half later, she moved back into her old bedroom in Prettybrook. She spent the next two years (while Madeleine was finishing high school) working a series of service jobs and going to community college, studying graphic design. Over that time, the allure Alwyn had had in her younger sister’s eyes dimmed considerably, if it didn’t disappear altogether. Once again, Alwyn adapted to her surroundings. She hung out at the local pub, the Apothecary, with friends of hers who hadn’t managed to get out of Prettybrook, either, all of them reverting to the scruffy, preppy clothes they’d worn in high school, cords, crew necks, L.L. Bean moccasins. One night at the Apothecary she’d met Blake Higgins, a reasonably nice-looking, medium-dumb guy who’d gone to Babson and lived in Boston, and soon Alwyn started visiting him up there, and dressing the way Blake, or Blake’s family, liked her to, fancier, more expensively, wearing blouses or dresses from Gucci or Oscar de la Renta, preparing herself to be somebody’s wife. Alwyn had been married for four years, in her most recent incarnation, and now this attempt to form a cohesive self was coming apart, too, apparently, and Madeleine was being called in, as the more together sister, to help shore it up.

She could see her mother and sister descending the staircase from the plane, Phyllida holding the banister, Alwyn’s Janis Joplin mane, the one vestige of her former hippie self, whipping in the breeze. As they advanced over the tarmac Phyllida called out brightly, “We’re from the Swedish Academy! Here to see Diane MacGregor.”

“Isn’t it amazing that she won?” Madeleine said.

“It must have been thrilling to be here.”

They hugged, and Phyllida said, “We had dinner the other night with the Snyders. Professor Snyder is retired from Baxter, in biology, and I had him explain Dr. MacGregor’s work to me. So I’m fully up to date! ‘Jumping genes.’ I’m looking forward to talking to Leonard all about it.”

“He’s pretty busy today,” Madeleine said, trying to sound casual. “We didn’t know you were coming until last night and he has to work.”

“Of course, we don’t want to take up his time. We’ll just say hello for a minute.”

Alwyn was carrying two little bags, one over each shoulder. She’d put on weight and her face looked more freckled than ever. She allowed herself to be hugged for a moment before pulling away.

“What did Mummy tell you?” she asked. “Did she tell you I left Blake?”

“She said you guys were having trouble.”

“No. I left him. I’ve had it. The marriage is over.”

“Don’t be dramatic, dear,” Phyllida said.

“I’m not being dramatic, Mummy,” Alwyn said. She glared at Phyllida but, perhaps scared to confront her directly, turned to deliver her argument to Madeleine. “Blake works all week long. Then on weekends he plays golf. He’s like a fifties dad. And we have hardly any babysitting. I wanted a live-in nanny but Blake said he didn’t want someone in the house all the time. So I told him, ‘You’re never in the house! You try taking care of Richard full-time. I’m out of here.’” Alwyn grimaced. “The problem now is my boobs are going to burst.”

Out in the open, within view of other people, she took hold of her engorged breasts with both hands.

“Ally, please,” Phyllida said.

“Please, what? You wouldn’t let me express any milk on the plane. What do you expect?”

“It was hardly private. And the flight was so short.”

“Mummy was worried the men in the