Page 26 of Meet Me in the Garden

“Well, thatisbig news,” Claire says, and Al claps him on the back.

“Nice job, brother. Nicely done. Tell us all about it.”

Lionel glances at me. I’m overcome, can’t even smile. The money in my shoebox, still not close to enough, no matter how much or how hard I work.

“It’s nothing special,” he says. I can tell he’s downplaying it for me, hate that I’m feeling this way.

“When’s moving day?” I finally manage.

“I already got the keys. This weekend, maybe? A friend’s giving me his old sofa. Okay if I take the bed, or do you need it?”

“It’s yours,” Adele says. “No need for a bed in a den.”

Later, after the dishes are washed, I find Lionel out back. “A friend of a friend knew about the place,” he says. “Sort of dropped into my lap.”

“How’d you save enough money?”

“The jobs I’ve been getting pay decently.” He’s been fixing up houses, building decks, painting walls. “How much have you saved?”

“Not enough. It isn’t just rent and deposit money I’ll need. I want a car, too. And a safety net.”

Lionel considers it. “If you find a place close by, you could put off the car for a while and still ride to the plant with Al and Bernard.”

“That’s a good point,” Adele says, joining us. “Two cars. Three of you commuting to the same place. It works out, doesn’t it?”

“But then again, it will be a lot harder to save for a car once you’re paying monthly rent,” Lionel says.

It’s true. I look at the listings in the paper each day. “Modest two-bedroom apartments run around ninety dollars a month. That would leave me with only sixty for everything else.”

Adele shrugs. “It’s just a matter of priorities. What’s the most important? A car, when you already have access to two of them that you can borrow anytime, or a little home of your own for you and Clément?”

Lionel’s amused, shooting me a look.

“So you want me out is what you’re saying.”

“No, no!” Adele says. “I just want whatyouwant. I’m making sure you know you’ll have our help and support even after you move out.”

“Sorry, Odette. I started something that I can’t take back. Now they’re dreaming of a denandan extra bedroom for the kids.”

Adele denies it, flustered. But it’s out in the open, the way she really feels. We’re in alignment then, even though it stings.

On Friday evening, the men move the furniture and my sisters and I busy ourselves inside Lionel’s new apartment, lining the old kitchen drawers, scrubbing the place clean.

“These bedroom curtains are two inches too short,” Claire says, and the next day she has two new curtains for him, folded neatly, made of extra yardage from her living room drapes. Adele and I stand on chairs to hang them, Claire directing us from below. Afterward, she leads the children in a game. They’re eager, focused, listening to her instructions, watching her, and following along. It moves me so much that I can’t help but tell her later, when we’re alone in the kitchen, no one else in earshot.

“It’s unfair,” I say. “You’re so good and natural with children. Your life is all set up—”

“Stop,” she says. “I can’t talk about this.” Her eyes are wide and full of tears. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I say, chastened. “I’m sorry.”

She nods vigorously, like she’s convincing herself of something. Shesqueezes my hand—I’m forgiven—and we leave the kitchen to find the others.

They’re out front of the building, talking on the stoop. Clément runs over when he sees me. “Can we go, Mommy? Can we go with Uncle Lionel?”

“Go where?”

“On an adventure,” Lionel says. “Got a couple hours to spare?”