Page 95 of Surfside Sisters

She’d bored him right into sleep. Should she keep talking? Or let the poor man rest? Should she sit here with him? Was it necessary for someone to be with him at all times? Her throat was dry from talking. Rising, she tiptoed from the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She was at the sink drinking when she heard Sebastian and his mother in the living room.

“…can’t go on like this!” Donna Maxwell was saying. “We had booked a cruise down the Danube! We were going to see Austria and Hungary! Now—nowwhat do I have to look forward to? Taking care of an invalid all my life?”

Keely froze. She shouldn’t be hearing this conversation. But she couldn’t tear herself away.

“Mom, it won’t be for the rest of your life. And we’ll all help you.”

“All my life—all my life!—I have done nothing but take care of other people. Feed people, and with only the healthiest ingredients! I’ve always been the mother who helped on school trips. I baked probably three million birthday cupcakes! I’m fifty-eight years old! Do you think I wantedthiswhen I was your age? When do I get to have something for myself?”

“Mom—”

“How can you possibly understand? You’re young. You’re beginning your life.I’mfacing old age and white hair and wrinkled skin and arthritis. I want to have fun while I still can move without a fucking cane!”

Keely’s hands flew to her mouth to cover her yelp of shock. Mrs. Maxwell saidfucking!For one weird moment, she thought:I can’t wait to tell Isabelle!

“Mom, let’s work something out. I mean, you should go on that cruise. We can hold down the fort.”

“Go on a cruisealone?”

“Well, take a friend. That would be fun, wouldn’t it? Take Mary Ellen.”

“I can’t go on a cruise when your father is ill, Sebastian. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Donna Maxwell began to sob, great wrenching, hiccupping sobs so heartbreaking that Keely felt guilty overhearing them. Quietly she left the room, carrying her glass of water with her.

Al Maxwell was still sleeping. At least his eyes were closed. Keely sat in her chair. Should she continue talking? She’d heard that people should talk when someone was in a coma, that they could hear even if they couldn’t react. But Isabelle’s father wasn’t in a coma. Maybe he needed to sleep. Maybe she should hum very quietly, so he knew he wasn’t alone. Sebastian hadn’t given her sufficient instructions. Probably he didn’t know the perfect thing to do, either.

As Al Maxwell slept, saliva began to dribble out of the drooping side of his mouth, down his chin, and onto his pajama top.

“Oh, man,” Keely said under her breath.Nowwhat was she supposed to do? The dribble continued. His pajama top darkened with moisture.

Should she dab at his chin? Even as a sleeping invalid, Al Maxwell intimidated Keely. Touching his face while he slept seemed too intimate an action for her. She quietly pulled some tissues from the box, patted them into a tidy square, and very carefully laid them on the pajama top to absorb the saliva. Her hands shook as she performed her small task. She was afraid she’d accidentally jar his chin and wake him. If he opened his eyes and glared at her, or worse, displayed shock at her leaning so close to him, she’d have a heart attack!

She settled back in her chair. For a few minutes, she watched Mr. Maxwell sleep. She wished she’d brought a book to read. If she had her laptop with her, would she be able to write? Would that seem offensive to Sebastian’s father or to Sebastian? And what about Donna Maxwell? It made perfect sense to Keely that after a lifetime of tending to others’ needs, Donna Maxwell craved some special time for herself. Still, Mrs. Maxwell had sounded so spoiled, soindignantthat her husband had had a stroke that might prevent her from going on a cruise.

Maybe all her life Donna Maxwell had wanted to go on a cruise. Maybe she had been only acting the part of perfect mother, and she couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer. Maybe Donna Maxwell was a big fat phony!

Or maybe Donna Maxwell was like everyone else, her selfish desires restricted by duty and the need to be who she seemed.

Another thought followed: All her life Keely had envied the Maxwell family. Now she realized how fortunate she’d been to have the mother and father who’d raised her.

Tears came to her eyes. She missed her father. But while she sat there near Mr. Maxwell, she allowed herself to be with her father again, in memory. Her father had not been wealthy in terms of money, but his life—his wife, his daughter, his friends, this island—had been a fortune to him.

After an eternity, Sebastian came to relieve Keely.

“Did he sleep the entire time?” he asked in a whisper. “You don’t have to stay with him when he’s sleeping. I’m sorry I didn’t explain it to you, but we’re only figuring it out ourselves. Keely, thanks so much for being here today. This isn’t how I wanted to spend time with you—”

“I was glad to help.” Keely hugged Sebastian. She wanted to tell him how liberated she felt. The powerful Mr. Maxwell could be weakened like everyone else. But she couldn’t say that to Sebastian; it would sound vengeful. “Take care.”

—

“How was Al?” Eloise asked when Keely walked in the front door.

Keely flopped down on the sofa across from her mother. “Oh, Mom, I’m such a terrible human being. Mr. Maxwell wasn’t like himself at all. He was like a zombie.”

“Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? The poor man has had a stroke.”

“I know, I know. He looks fine, except one side of his face droops. But he has an expression in his eyes like no one’s home. I tried to be entertaining, I tried to talk about stuff from my childhood, but nothing interested him. I felt guilty and bored and useless. And wait till I tell you what I overheard Mrs. Maxwell say!” She gave her mother the full, dramatic account.

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