I hadn't listened. Our original mother-daughter-sister fracture resulted from my stubbornness. Doug was an outgoing athlete, popular with the girls and unlike anyone who ever expressed an interest in quiet little Sarah Blanding. My naive interpretation of my mother's displeasure was all wrong, so I now know, and I was heart sick over it. I never gave the freeze a chance to thaw. Now, a presumably more mature Sarah Blanding was nervously committed to do so.
I joined Paul for breakfast the following morning. Our conversation centered on his children. He reported their reaction to my visit was favorable. This pleased him although in my opinion, the jury remained undecided, with respect to Karen. I was not my chatty self and limited my responses to nods and smiles, content to let him expound on these two loves of his life.
We left Boston shortly after nine. To keep the conversation away from my family, I asked Paul how his daughter was handling of the death of her mother, a year earlier.
"She's been a trouper," he answered as we motored west on the Massachusetts Turnpike. "Carol was sick a long time and confined to her room, since Timmy was born. Karen spent hours by her mother's bedside and her death was upsetting but she's put it behind her. We don't dwell on the subject. Losing a mother is traumatic in any set of circumstances but in this case it wasn't totally unexpected. Karen was a great help to Timmy in letting him understand what was going on. Both children have adjusted quickly."
"Has Mrs. Doberchek been there for them all the time?"
"Nearly ten years. Carol hired her and she runs the house. That's not the case with most of the staff. We've gone through a number of nannies, cooks, helpers and nurses. Carol was hard on them. It's not like when I was growing up and we had the same service people for years."
"How much domestic help do you have?" I asked.
He seemed embarrassed. "Just Mrs. Doberchek, a cook and her helper and a couple of guys for the grounds. There are the teachers for the kids but they don't live there. The cleaning people come and go." Then he added, "Before Carol's death, we had nurses."
I couldn't conceive of living so managed a life that everyday problems were all outsourced. Maybe it's easier if it's all you're ever known. It was a strange life, especially for the children. "Is that how you grew up too?" I asked.
"We had more full time help but our life style was basically the same." Then he added, as if apologizing, "I try to be there for Karen and Timmy. My parents didn't even pretend."