The Secret History - Donna Tartt [191]
After he had gone Mrs. Corcoran began to inspect the ferns, lifting up the fronds to check for dead foliage, making notes on the backs of the envelopes with a tiny silver screw-point pencil. To her husband she said: “Did you see that wreath the Bartles sent?”
“Wasn’t that nice of them.”
“No, in fact I don’t think it appropriate for an employee to send something like that. I wonder, is Bob thinking about asking you for a raise?”
“Now, hon.”
“I can’t believe these plants, either,” she said, jabbing a forefinger into the soil. “This African violet is almost dead. Louise would be humiliated if she knew.”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
“I know, but still, if I’ve learned one thing from this it is never to order flowers from Sunset Florists again. All the things from Tina’s Flowerland are so much nicer. Francis,” she said, in the same bored tone and without looking up. “You haven’t been to see us since last Easter.”
Francis took a sip of his beer. “Oh, I’ve been fine,” he said stagily. “How are you?”
She sighed and shook her head. “It’s been terribly hard,” she said. “We’re all trying to take things one day at a time. I never realized before how very difficult it can be for a parent to just let go and … Henry, is that you?” she said sharply at the sound of some scuffling on the landing.
A pause. “No, Mom, just me.”
“Go find him, Pat, and tell him to get down here,” she said. Then she turned back to Francis. “We got a lovely spray of Easter lilies from your mother this morning,” she said to him. “How is she?”
“Oh, she’s fine. She’s in the city now. She was really upset,” he added uncomfortably, “when she heard about Bunny.” (Francis had told me she was hysterical on the telephone and had to go take a pill.)
“She is such a lovely person,” said Mrs. Corcoran sweetly. “I was so sorry when I heard she’d been admitted to the Betty Ford Center.”
“She was only there for a couple of days,” said Francis.
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? She made that much progress, did she? I’ve always heard it was an excellent place.”
Francis cleared his throat. “Well, she mainly went out there for a rest. Quite a number of people do that, you know.”
Mrs. Corcoran looked surprised. “Oh, you don’t mind talking about it, do you?” she said. “I don’t think you should. I think it’s very modern of your mother to realize that she needed help. Not so long ago one simply didn’t admit to problems of that nature. When I was a girl—”
“Well, well, speak of the Devil,” boomed Mr. Corcoran.
Henry, in dark suit, was creaking down the stairs with a stiff, measured tread.
Francis stood up. I did, too. He ignored us.
“Come on in here, son,” said Mr. Corcoran. “Grab yourself a brewski.”
“Thank you, no,” said Henry.
Up close, I was startled to see how pale he was. His face was leaden and set and beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead.
“What you boys been doing up there all afternoon?” Mr. Corcoran said through a mouthful of ice.
Henry blinked at him.
“Huh?” said Mr. Corcoran pleasantly. “Looking at girlie magazines? Building yourselves a ham radio set?”
Henry passed a hand—which, I saw, trembled slightly—over his forehead. “I was reading,” he said.
“Reading?” said Mr. Corcoran, as if he’d never heard of such a thing.
“Yes, sir.”
“What is it? Something good?”
“The Upanishads.”
“Well aren’t you smart. You know, I’ve got a whole shelf of books down in the basement if you want to take a look. Even have a couple old Perry Masons. They’re pretty good. Exactly like the TV show, except Perry gets a little sexy with Della and sometimes he’ll say ‘damn’ and stuff.”
Mrs. Corcoran cleared her throat.
“Henry,” she said smoothly, reaching for her drink, “I’m sure the young people would like to see where they’ll be staying. Maybe they have some luggage in the car.”
“All right.”
“Check the downstairs bathroom to make sure there are enough washcloths and towels. If there aren’t, get some from the linen closet in the hall.”
Henry nodded but before he could answer Mr. Corcoran suddenly came up behind him. “This boy,” he said, slapping him on the back