Page 42 of Thick and Thin

“He’s sometimes hard to love—but when you can see past the crusty exterior…” I nodded as her voice trailed off. Again, we lapsed into silence and I decided I wasn’t going to volunteer any additional details. If she wanted to ask, I’d answer, but I wasn’t going to start spilling my guts. I would start crying at some point if I did. “By the way,” she finally said, her voice cutting through the silence, “you’re right.”

“I am? About what?”

“That east wing business. It isn’t good. And it’s worried me for a long time. But I’m not in a position to tell him anything. I’m glad you did.”

“It’s so strange. And I mean…I get it. It’s easy enough in a place this big to just not use those rooms, but…it’s not like a closet. It’s several rooms, an entire hallway. Those rooms up there combined are bigger than my house in Winchester.”

“I know, dear. Bigger than my apartment too.”

“It’s not healthy—but until he realizes that…”

“I know. But it’s his way of dealing with things.”

As I put more butter on my roll, I asked, “Things?”

“Like his father. You met him on the night of the ballet, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not just Augustus, of course. It’s the whole family. But that was thanks to Augustus as well. He poisoned the older boys against Sinny. I didn’t have much of a chance to get to know Constance, but I know she adored him so much—and for some reason, his father despised him for it. I often wondered if it was because she was giving her affection to the baby instead of him. You know how egotistical men can be sometimes—especially a man like Augustus. All that power and wealth and he still can’t be satisfied when one or two people don’t think he’s God’s gift to the planet.”

Her words rang true in terms of his bruised ego—but I decided to let Edna in on what I knew. I told her about the journals and what I’d read—and it even brought tears to her eyes. Our bowls were empty by the time I finished. “Please don’t tell Sinclair I told you.”

It was the first time I’d called him by his first name in front of Edna, but it didn’t faze her. “No—but you should tell him about those journals.”

“I did. I think it brought him some comfort knowing he was loved so unconditionally by his mother.”

“I know I’m not really a substitute, but I did my best to be a maternal figure for him when he was growing up. I had to walk a fine line, though. I knew if his father found out just how much I spoiled the boy, he would have canned me—so I only hugged him in private or told him just how good a boy he was when I’d tuck him into bed. But I let him know he was loved and good. I had to. But when he went off to college, I knew his father had influenced him far more than I had.”

“I don’t know, Edna. He doesn’t seem like his brothers or father. I mean…he’s more like them than you or me, but he’s definitely marching to the beat of his own drummer.” The way she smiled warmed my heart. “And he’s never said it out loud, but I know he loves you too.”

It was the first time this woman had ever seemed speechless.

After a moment, though, she stood. “Well, I guess I’d better do up these dishes and then get back to the inventory.”

“I’ll help you with the dishes.”

“Oh, no, dear. You don’t have to. You’ve got your own work to do—and I don’t want to slow you down. You’ve got your freedom waiting for you.”

Little did she know. But maybe she understood all too clearly. She already knew I loved Sinclair as much as she did, if only in a different way. Surely, she knew how hard it would be for me. There would be no satisfactory ending to my story.

“What’s five minutes?” I asked, and I took up a position to rinse and dry while she filled up one of the sinks with hot soapy water. She placed our dishes in there and I smiled, knowing those particular items were dishwasher safe and that all she really had to clean by hand were the pan that held the rolls and the soup pot—but I suspected she wanted more time with me. While she put the soup in a container for the refrigerator, she asked me to put the rolls in a gallon bag and I decided to ask her a question that had been on my mind. Even though I’d heard Sinclair’s point of view, I wanted to hear what Edna thought. “Do you remember a woman named Natasha?”

Edna’s chestnut eyes practically grew double in size. “Do I? If you’re talking about Natasha Sullivan, that woman is a person you could never forget.”

Oh, she was the one, all right. But I didn’t know exactly what Edna was saying. “In a good or bad way?”

“Oh, heavens. In the worst way possible. That woman was a wrecking crew—and as unstable as they come. I can’t tell you how many glasses she broke just to make a point or get Sinny’s attention. She was a manipulator, that girl.”

“She scratched their initials on that laptop.”

“I know. That girl was delusional. I never understood what Sinny saw in her. Except that she was a piece of tail and a man’s got needs, I suppose.”

I hated thinking of him with another woman, but I said, “I guess so.”

“She and one other woman were the only females Sinny ever brought home—and I have no doubt in my mind that Natasha had managed to worm her way into his brain. The first time it was because they had a big work project—or so she said. But she was here the next morning and the papers they’d spread out in the beverage nook hadn’t been touched.”

I could tell Edna had more to say, so I kept my mouth shut as I took a towel to one of the bowls.

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