Page 28 of Look on the Bright Side

Her marriage was golden. Her career was helping the family financially and gave her another role in addition to Mommy. She was doing it. She was rising to the occasion, making a living through art. She was…dare she think it?…a success.

I don’t know how you do it, friends would say. The kids, the art, the business! Well, you have Gerald. You’re so lucky! I wish Ted/Jim/Leah/Spencer was like him. You two found the golden ticket, that’s for sure.

She wondered if men were told their success was due to a supportive spouse. As the kids got older, she painted more, arranging a list of chores so the kids could pitch in, overseen by Harlow, whom she and Gerald called the General. One by one, the kids graduated from high school, went to college, groped around, found their way. Poor Lark went through all that stuff with Justin. Addie moved to Boston for a few years, then got married and started a family. Harlow dropped out of law school and came back home while Winnie went from job to job, not finding anything that really grabbed her. Robbie finally managed to pass his certification and become a marine mechanic.

Life happened, of course. When Louisa died, it was crushing. She’d been more of a mother to Ellie than her own mother had been, in terms of unconditional love and role modeling. Ellie worried that Harlow had made a huge mistake, leaving law school with just a few weeks to go. Would Winnie ever find something that really suited her? What about Addie and her fixation on money? Or Robbie still acting like a teenager? Her sister Grace’s marriage was always stressful, so unlike hers—Larry was such a blowhard, so full of himself and, Ellie suspected, a cheater.

And then, last fall, the autumn of life began. The kids were grown and settled. Gerald was still fit and vibrant, finally done with the hard work of being a nurse. Lark moved out for good this time, she’d assured them. Welcome, empty-nest years! Welcome, Time, that most precious of all commodities. The time her friends and acquaintances talked about when they finally could do all those things they’d been waiting for. Travel. Grandkids. Reading. Just…being.

But Ellie’s life was just as busy as ever. The gallery had stalled in recent years…the pandemic, the economy, competition from new galleries. After Mathilda, it was hard to trust her own vision, and there was more temptation to phone it in. “Just give the people what they want, hon,” Gerald said, and it hurt, the idea that she was able to slap out a few paintings a month and be happy with it. That had never been her.

But the inspiration and joy had been leaching away for years now. Since Mathilda. Since Louisa’s death. Since her days stopped revolving around the kids, when painting had been the release and reward, not the job.

Speaking of her parents, she saw that she had six missed calls from her mother. Shit. She really shouldn’t put her phone on silent, but she hated being interrupted at work. She hit her mother’s number.

“Hi, Mom, is everything okay?”

“Oh, Ellie, it’s you. Hello.”

“You called me six times. Is Dad okay?”

“What?”

“Is Dad okay?” she repeated, raising and slowing her voice. Mom never wore her hearing aids.

“You don’t have to yell at me. Yes, he’s fine. Why did you call, Ellie?”

“You called me, Mom. Six times.”

“I did?”

“Yep. But if everything’s good, I’ll catch up with you later, okay? I’m just closing the gallery.”

“Oh, the gallery.” Mom’s tone was accusatory. “You’re so busy all the time.”

Tell me about it. “Okay, Mom, talk to you soon.”

“Well, your aunt isn’t doing too well. Her knee is really bothering her.”

Aunt Sharon’s knee had been bothering her since Ellie was a teenager. “I’m sorry to hear that. Listen, I have to run, Mom. Love you.”

“Fine. You called me. Apparently, I shouldn’t have answered.” Mom hung up.

Deep breath. Unclench the jaw. Keep on the sunny side. Call Grace later to vent.

Mom was increasingly needy, especially with technology. “The link didn’t work for me” or “How do I look at these pictures Addie sent me?” Dad, meanwhile, started subscribing to conspiracy theories. “You really think someone could survive in space? That people have walked on the moon? The gravity alone would crush you. Stop drinking the Kool-Aid.”

She hoped with all her heart that her kids wouldn’t ever think of her as an aggravation. Or if they did, that Gerald would have her back and not agree that the other was a pain in the ass, the way her parents did.

One last round in the gallery, making sure the back door was secure (she needed to replace the whole slider, but that would have to wait for fall). If the gallery had a good season, that was.

It’ll be okay, she told herself. The kids were healthy, the grandkids were doing great. Gerald was waiting for her, would be delighted to see her. Her rock and her comfort. Her love. She slung her bag over her shoulder, locked the gallery door and went home, breathing deeply, her shoulders loosening, enjoying the wind in her hair. Her husband adored her.

She was so lucky. She felt that with all her heart.

Which was why finding his iPad was like a sledgehammer to the head.

FIVE

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