just given him the receipts and he’d taken it from there. Pretty stupid, she was beginning to realize.
The next envelope was from a different mortgage company, a reminder of a past-due amount. Janice frowned. “I wasn’t aware we had two mortgages on the house.” She remembered clearly Kurt ushering her into the bank for the closing when he’d purchased their home. Stefie had just been born and he’d been so proud to be able to provide such a lovely place. Three years later, Kurt had quit the branch office of a major insurance firm and opened his own agency, telling her that the only way to get ahead was by owning your own business. He’d worked hard and they’d prospered. But she’d paid little attention to his financial dealings.
Stefanie took the notice from her mother’s hand. “There’s nearly nine hundred dollars past-due. Surely Dad couldn’t have just forgotten to pay.”
Janice became aware that Stefanie was looking at her as if she could scarcely believe her mother had so little knowledge of the running of the house. “I can’t imagine that he did.” She sat up taller. “It’s probably an error. I’ll call and get it straightened out tomorrow. And I’ll transfer some money from our savings to the checking account and pay the rest of these.” She felt a little better having decided that.
She hadn’t located a savings account passbook in Kurt’s desk, but he’d probably kept it at the office, Janice decided. She had to order new checks to be printed and find out the up-to-date balances on the accounts. Surely there was enough money. They hadn’t lived lavishly, though they were comfortable. Kurt had rarely refused a request she’d made for a purchase or an improvement on the house. But then, she hadn’t asked often. So much to see to, to think about.
Stefanie had been sorting through the rest of the mail. “This is mostly trivial junk. A magazine subscription renewal notice, a request for the return of an overdue book from the library and a coupon offering a large pizza at a discount. Three more notes of condolence—these names don’t look familiar.”
Janice sighed. “Probably from Dad’s clients. There’s a whole stack on the dining room table.”
“And here’s a notice that the tires on Dad’s car are due to be rotated next week.” Stefanie brushed back her long hair. “Have you decided what you’re going to do about the cars, Mom?”
Janice leaned back, her eyes filling. “How Dad loved that car.” A very impractical Mercedes convertible that seated only two. Kurt had bought it in Chicago and driven it home, so pleased with his purchase. Janice smiled at the memory. “He’d have it washed weekly, and afterward he’d take a rag and polish it even more. I wonder if I should sell that or my station wagon.”
Stefanie stacked the mail in a neat pile. “Why not get rid of both and get something you really want?”
“I don’t know, Stefie. It seems kind of...frivolous.” Janice sat back wearily. “I’ll decide later.” Why hadn’t she paid more attention to things? Why hadn’t Kurt taken the time and trouble to explain all this to her before he died? Why had he left her with this dreadful mess?
“All this has taught me a valuable lesson,” her daughter said, rising to return to her book. “When Ross and I marry, I’m going to make sure we handle the household accounts together.”
“That’s a good plan.” Hers had seemed like a good plan at the time, too. She’d done what her husband wanted her to do. If he’d lived, there wouldn’t have been a problem. But he hadn’t lived.
In a burst of unreasonable anger, she shoved back the chair and went to stand by the window. It was snowing again, a light sprinkling, and quite cold out. She’d hardly left the house since the day of the funeral. Yesterday the dry cleaners had phoned, asking when she’d be picking up Kurt’s shirts. She’d had an urge to tell them to keep them, that he would no longer be needing them.
The windowpane was cool on her forehead as she leaned forward, trying to swallow her anger. It was stupid to be angry with someone for dying. Kurt, she was certain, hadn’t wanted to die, had loved life immensely. Why? Why had this happened to them? It wasn’t fair.
Stefanie came up behind her, slipping an arm around her slim waist. “Mom, are you all right?”
Janice nodded and cleared her throat. She had to get a grip on herself. Stefanie was a worrier and was going home tomorrow. The least she could do was put on a brave front for one more day. “I’ll be fine.” She glanced toward the fireplace. “Why don’t we build a fire?” She was always cold lately, even wearing her gray sweatpants and a heavy sweater.
“We used up the last of the wood last night, remember? Want me to call around and see if I can get some delivered?”
Kurt had always ordered the wood and had it stacked. Janice didn’t even know where he’d gotten it, or who to call. Annoyed, she shook her head. “Let’s forget it. I think I’ll make a cup of tea. Want some?”
“No, but I’ll make it for you,” Stefanie suggested.
“That’s all right. I need something to do.” In the kitchen, Janice turned on the small radio and put water on to boil. Opening the refrigerator, she looked inside, wondering what to make for dinner. Nothing appealed to her, but she’d have to produce something for Stefie’s sake.
She shuffled covered dishes around, leftover food her friends and neighbors had brought over. Taking the lid from a familiar blue dish, she found tuna salad that had gone bad. Kurt had loved tuna and had undoubtedly made it some time ago, then promptly forgotten it was there.
Angrily, she scraped the moldy salad down the drain and turned on the disposal. Why hadn’t he eaten the damn tuna? Why had he let it spoil when he knew food was expensive? And why had he left her here to cope with all this alone?
A rush of guilt flooded her and she felt the heat creep into her face. She had no right to be angry with Kurt. He hadn’t meant to leave her. Yet he had, and she would have to stop feeling sorry for herself and get on with her life. Dear God, where was she going to find the strength to go on?
The music from the radio grew suddenly louder, taunting her. Janice’s head shot up as she heard Johnny Mathis singing, “It’s wonderful, wonderful. Oh, so wonderful, my love.” She and Kurt had danced to that back in college. Only Kurt was gone now and nothing was wonderful. Nothing.
Her back against the kitchen cupboards, Janice slid to the floor, hoping her daughter wouldn’t wander out and see her like this. Resting her cheek on her bent knees, she closed her eyes and let the tears fall.
* * *
KELSEY BOARDINGHOUSE was a warm and wonderful place, a place Janice had always felt welcome. Losing her mother at an early age, she’d gravitated to Anna Kelsey when Anna had first arrived in Tyler. Though Anna was only about ten years older than Janice, she seemed to personify everything a mother should be. As Janice entered Anna’s big kitchen the next evening, she hugged her friend a bit longer than usual, absorbing Anna’s warmth like a favorite quilt wrapping around her.
“I’m so glad you stopped in,” Anna said, stepping back to look her friend over. The pale skin beneath Janice’s eyes was dark with fatigue. Not sleeping well yet, Anna guessed. And she was wearing those shapeless, unflattering sweats she dragged out every winter. “Take your coat off.”
“I came to coax you out for a walk,” Janice said. “Maybe we could stroll over to Marge’s Diner and have a piece of her sinfully rich pie.” She wasn’t
