home.”
She gave a small unconvincing shake of her head.
I sat back. “I can’t help unless I know what’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on. It’s just that…” She shook her head again. “Well, Joseph’s been working long hours lately. And we fought about it. I felt…feel that he should be here with his family in the evening. I keep a lovely home, make delicious meals; he should be here to enjoy them. I finally told him. Do you think that’s what drove him away?”
I wondered how anybody could be this naive, or this out of date. Maybe June Cleaver worried that Ward was so tired of the Beaver’s antics he planned to divorce her, or Harriet Nelson was afraid Ozzie might leave the family to escape Ricky’s singing, but I seriously doubted it. Some of those traditional fifties housewives are still alive and well in our Women’s Society, and I can tell you they are sharp, gutsy women, not at all afraid to demand their rights. Maura was a mystery to me. I was growing more convinced it was now my job to help her get up on her feet and walking.
“That sounds like a perfectly normal argument,” I said, feeling my way. “Not at all the kind of thing that drives people apart.”
“I just keep imagining he’s angry at me, and that’s why he doesn’t come back. If I could do it over, I wouldn’t say a word to him.”
“Why was he working such long hours?”
“I never asked.”
Joe is such a personable guy, I couldn’t imagine it would have taken more than a “So what happened at work today?” to get the whole story.
I tried a different tack. “Do you happen to know where in New Jersey he grew up?”
She offered the muffin plate, and I took a quarter. Every piece was exactly the same size. If I’d had time to dissect them and count crumbs, I was sure I would find them equal.
“I don’t think his childhood was happy,” Maura said. “When I asked about it, he was vague. Joseph’s always vague if he doesn’t want to talk about something, and I learned not to pin him down. I think they moved a good bit. I got the feeling his father couldn’t hold down a job. But that was just a guess.”
I felt a touch of remorse. Maybe Joe was vague about work, as well. Maybe when Maura tried to find out how things were going, he clammed up. And didn’t we have proof that this generous, open guy kept secrets?
I made a mental note to find out what had been going on at the food bank to keep him so occupied into the evenings. And I repeated yesterday’s note to myself not to be so hard on Maura.
“If you think of anything he might have told you, will you let me know?” I asked.
“Of course. I appreciate your help, Aggie.” She smiled, and this time the smile was genuine and warmed her face.
“Just two other things, then I have to go. Do you have copies of your credit card bills or recent receipts? I thought maybe I could track his movements in New York and make some calls.”
“Joseph paid all the bills. I never even opened them.”
“Do you know where he filed them afterwards?”
She bit her lip. This time she actually looked chagrined. “No. He may have paid them at work. I think he did a lot of family business on the computer there.”
“So he did all the paperwork?”
“We each had our roles. I guess that’s unusual these days, but it worked for us. I never paid a bill, he never cooked a meal.
“Will you look around and see if you can find any records? Of course if you do, you might want to be the one to make those calls.”
“I’ll look, but I’m sure there’s no reason you shouldn’t see them.”
“Good.” I got to my feet. “Oh, the last thing? Do you have any recent photos of Joe? Just in case?”
She looked relieved. “Finally, something I can help with.”
On my way out we stopped in the living room, and Maura opened an album on the table. I could see it was one of those cleverly done scrapbooks, with stickers and pages that folded out, and little mementoes glued
She gave a small unconvincing shake of her head.
I sat back. “I can’t help unless I know what’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on. It’s just that…” She shook her head again. “Well, Joseph’s been working long hours lately. And we fought about it. I felt…feel that he should be here with his family in the evening. I keep a lovely home, make delicious meals; he should be here to enjoy them. I finally told him. Do you think that’s what drove him away?”
I wondered how anybody could be this naive, or this out of date. Maybe June Cleaver worried that Ward was so tired of the Beaver’s antics he planned to divorce her, or Harriet Nelson was afraid Ozzie might leave the family to escape Ricky’s singing, but I seriously doubted it. Some of those traditional fifties housewives are still alive and well in our Women’s Society, and I can tell you they are sharp, gutsy women, not at all afraid to demand their rights. Maura was a mystery to me. I was growing more convinced it was now my job to help her get up on her feet and walking.
“That sounds like a perfectly normal argument,” I said, feeling my way. “Not at all the kind of thing that drives people apart.”
“I just keep imagining he’s angry at me, and that’s why he doesn’t come back. If I could do it over, I wouldn’t say a word to him.”
“Why was he working such long hours?”
“I never asked.”
Joe is such a personable guy, I couldn’t imagine it would have taken more than a “So what happened at work today?” to get the whole story.
I tried a different tack. “Do you happen to know where in New Jersey he grew up?”
She offered the muffin plate, and I took a quarter. Every piece was exactly the same size. If I’d had time to dissect them and count crumbs, I was sure I would find them equal.
“I don’t think his childhood was happy,” Maura said. “When I asked about it, he was vague. Joseph’s always vague if he doesn’t want to talk about something, and I learned not to pin him down. I think they moved a good bit. I got the feeling his father couldn’t hold down a job. But that was just a guess.”
I felt a touch of remorse. Maybe Joe was vague about work, as well. Maybe when Maura tried to find out how things were going, he clammed up. And didn’t we have proof that this generous, open guy kept secrets?
I made a mental note to find out what had been going on at the food bank to keep him so occupied into the evenings. And I repeated yesterday’s note to myself not to be so hard on Maura.
“If you think of anything he might have told you, will you let me know?” I asked.
“Of course. I appreciate your help, Aggie.” She smiled, and this time the smile was genuine and warmed her face.
“Just two other things, then I have to go. Do you have copies of your credit card bills or recent receipts? I thought maybe I could track his movements in New York and make some calls.”
“Joseph paid all the bills. I never even opened them.”
“Do you know where he filed them afterwards?”
She bit her lip. This time she actually looked chagrined. “No. He may have paid them at work. I think he did a lot of family business on the computer there.”
“So he did all the paperwork?”
“We each had our roles. I guess that’s unusual these days, but it worked for us. I never paid a bill, he never cooked a meal.
“Will you look around and see if you can find any records? Of course if you do, you might want to be the one to make those calls.”
“I’ll look, but I’m sure there’s no reason you shouldn’t see them.”
“Good.” I got to my feet. “Oh, the last thing? Do you have any recent photos of Joe? Just in case?”
She looked relieved. “Finally, something I can help with.”
On my way out we stopped in the living room, and Maura opened an album on the table. I could see it was one of those cleverly done scrapbooks, with stickers and pages that folded out, and little mementoes glued
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