Anne Tyler - A Spool of Blue Thread

The boys had spent the latter part of the afternoon at the neighborhood pool with Nora, and they were pink-faced and slick-haired and puffy-eyed. Sammy’s head kept drooping over his plate; he hadn’t slept during his nap. “Early bedtime for all of you,” Stem told them.

“Can’t we play catch with Uncle Denny first?” Petey asked.

Stem glanced over at Denny.

“Fine with me,” Denny said.

“Yippee!”

“How was work today?” Abby asked Red.

Red said, “Work was a pain in the ass. Got this lady who’s—”

“Excuse me,” Abby said, and she stood up and went out to the kitchen, calling, “Nora, please come eat your supper! Let me do the macaroni.”

Red rolled his eyes and then, taking advantage of her absence, reached for the butter and added a giant dollop to his succotash.

“I knew that lady was trouble when she brought out her four-inch binder,” Stem told Red.

“Pick, pick, pick,” Red agreed. “Niggle, niggle, niggle.”

Nora emerged from the kitchen with a saucepan and a serving spoon, Abby following. “Great succotash, Nora,” Red said.

“Thank you.”

She dished macaroni onto Tommy’s plate, then Petey’s, then Sammy’s. Abby resettled herself in her chair and reached for her napkin. “So,” she told Red. “You were saying?”

“Pardon?”

“You were saying about work?”

“I forget,” Red said huffily.

“He was saying about Mrs. Bruce,” Stem told her. “Lady who’s getting her kitchen updated.”

“I warned her about that grout,” Red said. “I told her more than once, I said, ‘Ma’am, you go for that urethane grout and you’re adding on two days’ work time. Cleanup is a bitch.’ ”

Then he said, “Oh, pardon me,” because Nora was sending him a sorrowful look from under her long, heavy lashes.

“Cleanup’s hell,” he said. “I mean, difficult. Major hazing problem. Didn’t I tell her that, Stem?”

“You told her.”

“And what does she do? Goes for urethane. Then throws a hissy fit over how much time the guys are taking.”

He paused a moment and frowned, perhaps wondering if the word “hissy” were something Nora could object to.

“I don’t know why you put up with people like that,” Denny said.

“Comes with the territory,” Red said.

“I wouldn’t stand for it.”

“ You might not,” Red told him, “but we don’t have that luxury. Half our men were idle for the first two weeks in April. You think that’s any picnic? We take what jobs we can get, nowadays, and thank our lucky stars.”

“You were the one who was griping,” Denny said.

“I was explaining how work is , is all. But what would you know about that?”

Denny bent over his steak and sliced off a piece in silence.

“Well!” Abby said. “I don’t know when I’ve eaten such a lovely meal, Nora.”

“Yes, it’s good, sweetheart,” Stem said.

“Denny grilled the steaks,” Nora said.

“Good steaks, Denny.”

Denny said nothing.

“Now can we play catch?” Tommy asked him.

Stem said, “Let him finish his supper, son.”

“No, I’m done,” Denny said. “Thanks, Nora.” And he pushed back his chair and stood up, even though most of his steak remained and he had barely touched his succotash.

On Tuesday, Denny slept till noon. Then he mopped all the bathroom floors and the floor in the kitchen. He swept the front porch, wiped down the porch furniture, and tightened a loose baluster he discovered in the porch railing. He repaired the clasp on a string of Abby’s beads and swapped out the battery in a smoke detector. Later that afternoon, while Nora and the children were at the pool, he put together an elaborate vegetable lasagna to serve for supper that night. Nora had been planning to serve hamburgers and corn on the cob, as she told him when she returned, but Denny said they could have those the next night.

“Or we could have your lasagna the next night,” Nora said, “because hamburgers and corn on the cob ought to be eaten fresh.”

“Oh, you two!” Abby cried. “Neither one of you needs to trouble yourself about supper. I’m capable of that much.”

“My lasagna should be eaten fresh too,” Denny said. “Look. Nora. I’m just trying to keep busy here. I don’t have enough to do.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Abby announced to the room at large. “Too many people are trying to help!”

But she might as well have been a gnat. Neither one of them so much as glanced at her; they were too busy facing each other down.

Supper that night was hamburgers and corn on the cob. Halfway through the meal, Denny asked, in a tone of detached curiosity, “Stem, did it ever occur to you that you may have married your mother?”

“Married my mother?” Stem asked. “Which mother?”

“They both claim to be oh so accommodating, but you notice how—” Denny broke off. “Huh?” he said. “ Which mother!”

He sat back and stared at Stem.

Nora continued placidly spreading butter on her ear of corn. Stem said, “Nora is very accommodating. I’d like to know how many other women would be willing to pack up and leave their homes behind the way she has.”

“Oh,” Abby wailed, “but we didn’t ask her to do that! We wouldn’t ask it of any of you!”

Nora said, “Of course you wouldn’t, Mother Whitshank. We volunteered. We wanted to do it. Think of all Douglas owes you.”

“Owes?” Abby said. She looked stung.

All at once Red came alive at the head of the table and said, “What? What’s going on?” He glanced from face to face, but Abby made a dismissive downward gesture with one hand, so he didn’t pursue it.

On Wednesday, Denny got up at ten thirty, so maybe he was inching into a halfway normal schedule. He vacuumed all the bedrooms and folded a load of laundry that Nora had put in the dryer, completely mixing up which clothes belonged to which person. Then he replaced a button on one of Abby’s blouses, leaving a spill of spools and crochet hooks on the shelf in the linen closet where Abby kept her sewing box. After that he played Crazy Eights with the little boys. When Abby told him she was heading off for her pottery class, he offered to drive her, but she said she always hitched a ride with Ree Bascomb. “Suit yourself,” Denny said, “but I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs; you might as well make use of me.”

“You’re very useful, dear,” Abby said. “It’s just that Ree and I have been riding together forever. But I appreciate the thought.”

“Can I borrow your computer while you’re gone?” Denny asked.

“My computer,” Abby said. A panicked look crossed her face.

“I’d like to get online.”

“Well, you aren’t … you won’t read my e-mail or anything, will you?”

“No, Mom. Who do you take me for?”

She didn’t seem reassured.

“I just wanted to connect to the outside world, for once,” Denny said. “I’m kind of isolated here.”

“Oh, Denny, haven’t I been saying? You ought not to be here!”

“How welcoming,” Denny said.

“Oh, you know what I mean. I’m not an old lady, Denny. I don’t need to have my hand held. This is all so unnecessary!”

“Is that so,” Denny said.

And then, as if her words had jinxed things, that afternoon she had one of her blank spells.

She had promised to be back from her pottery class around four. They didn’t start worrying till five. Red and Stem were home by then, and Red was the one who said, “Don’t you figure your mom should be here now? I know she and Ree get to talking, but still!”