Page 74 of The Treasure House

Since all the boys had gone off to college it was usually just Marly and her folks at home. But Marly had been busy at school. She wrote for the school paper and was on the student council. But even as busy as she was, she couldn’t help but notice that she and Mom hadn’t been getting along. She’d overheard Aunty Betty telling Mom that it was “just teenage girls” and “it would pass.” Marly had been annoyed, because she thought it was a Mom thing, more than a Marly thing.

“You really haven’t noticed anything?” Bobby said, exasperated, sitting opposite her and leaning forward. “Because I’ll tell you, not having seen her for several weeks, she’s different.”

“Maybe she’s a bit distracted? She has been losing her keys a lot,” Marly admitted. “She had to get new ones cut the last time.” Which wasn’t like Mom. Mom had a little glass dish in the kitchen where she always put her keys.

“She called me Virgil this morning,” Bobby told Marly, frowning. “And when I told her I wasn’t Virgil, she seemed really confused.”

Marly frowned, her gaze drifting to the wedding invitation on the fridge. Mom had called it Priscilla’s wedding. Not Sylvie’s. Even though she’d only just read the invitation. Okay, so maybe she had seen Mom confused a few times. Maybe Mom had even mentioned being confused, last time Aunt Betty and Sylvie were over. But Aunt Bet had just said it was a “time of life thing,” whatever that meant.

“Maybe it’s a time of life thing?” Marly repeated to Bobby now, with a shrug.

Bobby, being Bobby, didn’t drop it, though. He scowled at Marly and then went off to find Dad.

And then Dad got Mom to go to the doctor.

“It’s just time of life,” Mom and Dad reassured Bobby and Marly when they got back. Mom seemed terribly embarrassed about it.

“It’s lady business,” Dad said, seeming even more embarrassed.

But why would lady business make you forget how to turn on the TV?

Mom’s lady trouble only seemed to get worse over the following months, as Mom forgot more than just names. She started forgetting how to get places and often had to stop at a payphone and call Marly for directions. When she couldn’t get Marly, she called Dad in a panic. By the time June rolled around, both Marly and her father were plenty worried. Mom took Marly to Oxeye early for the wedding, so they could help Aunt Bet make wedding favors and decorations, and to keep Sylvie happy and calm. Dad and the boys planned to join them later, for the actual wedding weekend. But when Marly slid into the front seat of the station wagon to leave Boston for the coast, she found Mom staring at the dashboard, confused.

“Mom?” Something was wrong. There was a frightened look on her mother’s face.

Mom held the key in her hand. She was frowning and a little bit teary.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know where this goes,” her mom said in a small voice. She held up the key.

“What do you mean?” Marly felt a shiver of fear.

“This.” She shook the key. “I know it turns the car on. But how?” She sounded terrified.

“Here.” Marly leaned over and pointed at the ignition.

But her mom had started to cry.

“Hey.” Marly had only ever seen Mom cry at movies and funerals and didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t tell your father,” Mom begged. “He’s worried enough as it is.”

Marly had a cold quivery feeling in her stomach. Dad was worried? Dad, who barely ever showed an emotion?

Mom handed Marly the key. “Can you drive?”

Marly had finished driver’s ed, but it was a long way to Oxeye from Boston. She kept darting glances at Mom, who wept for the first half an hour and then snappishly told her to keep her eyes on the road. When they got to Tinker Street, Mom acted like everything was perfectly normal and didn’t mention it again.

Mom had sailed into the house, carrying her lace veil, which Sylvie was going to borrow, and calling out “We’re here!” just like she always did.

“You were right,” Marly told Bobby, when he arrived with Dad and Paul and Virge. With Sylvie’s bridal shower set to take place at Tinker Street, Dad had splurged for Marly and the boys to stay with him at Saint-Cyr. This should have made Marly gleeful. But Mom’s weirdness had ruined it.

Marly was sitting in the middle of Bobby’s neatly made hotel bed as he unpacked his suit and hung it up. Paul was in the shower, singing “Heartbreak Hotel” at the top of his voice, and Virgil was still downstairs flirting with the girl at the front desk. Marly took advantage of getting her brother alone to tell Bobby about the car incident.

Bobby looked troubled.

“Lady business doesn’t make you forget how to put a key in an ignition,” Marly told him vehemently. “Aunt Betty’s older than Mom. Surely if it was a time of life thing, she’d be having it too?”