"So you've told her you're moving to London?" Jonathan raised his brow at Eleanor as they booth stood in the corner of Caroline's kitchen. Caroline had decided on casual brunch for her birthday, and extended the invitation to Eleanor's family - after some deliberation about George and Margaret. Caroline favored including them, and Eleanor hadn't wanted to deal with it. Caroline, her own slow reconciliation with Celia building momentum, had encouraged it, and Eleanor had finally agreed. The complete gathering made for a bursting home, and the recent turn of good weather had saved the day. Guests spilled out into a splendidly green garden under a bright blue sky.
One arm crossed over herself and one elbow up sipping her mimosa, Eleanor looked over and nodded at her brother. "I have told her."
"And?" He took a sip of his black coffee. His eyes were sharp and dark as their mother's, without the cast and shadow of judgement about them.
"And I asked her to move there with me. And she said no. That she wanted to, but no. And so we're just continuing on, for now, day by day. I suppose we're just going to wait and see what happens, try to make it work when the change finally arrives. 'Live into the answers,' you might say?"
"Mmmmmm. The old head in the sand approach." He winked at Eleanor and she leaned against him, smiling over across the room at June who had looked up from conversation with Alan and caught her eye.
"I wouldn't put it that way. I'd say we're going to live in the moment and let go of control over outcomes." Her words were thin but haughty, her expression superior as she looked over to him. "I don't think that's too far off the mark from your one day at a time approach?"
"Oh and where did you ever read that drivel? You're impossibly new age. Did you chart your stars this morning as well?" Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Let go of control over outcomes. Keep mum around mum with that."
"Hmph. I did not chart the stars, silly boy. I chart the progress of the moon, if you must know. A far more powerful celestial body, when it comes to women and our fates." Eleanor rolled her own eyes in response, turned from her smirking brother and smiled at his wife as she approached.
"Dear God. What are you two talking about? I'm bored already." Bella grabbed the champagne bottle at Eleanor's side and refilled her glass.
"Jonathan is busy belittling me, and I'm trying to return the favor."
"Typical." Bella shrugged her shoulders and stood next to Eleanor, back to the counter and watching the mass of people in Caroline's home ebb and flow.
Bella offered her glass and a beaming smile to Eleanor in a toast. "Here's to you, CEO."
"Thank you." Eleanor smiled back and they clinked. Her eyes were steady and serious, not merry. She searched out Caroline, across the room and speaking to Gillian. Eleanor followed her small movements. The ever-changing tilt of her head as she spoke. A smile and then an animated frown. A hand at her hip and then up and her index finger pointed at Gillian. A glance down to Flora, standing between Lily and Greg, looking up at Jenny. Finally, a glance toward the kitchen, then to Eleanor, and a sweet smile as soon as their eyes met, which Eleanor returned with a wave, unmet. Caroline had already turned to chat with Greg.
"I'm sorry, but I am absolutely with mum when it comes to those comic books, Greg. Ridiculous." Caroline made a sweeping motion with her hand, her face serious and her tone as well. "Honestly. I won't have Flora even looking at those women you draw."
Jenny piled on. "Oh you're singing to the choir, as far as I'm concerned, Caroline. I say if the women don't get pants, nobody gets pants. And that's just for starters." The two exchanged looks of approval and stared up expectantly at Greg, clearly in over his head. Lily, nearby, had apparently overheard. She smiled at the exchange.
"Caroline, I suppose…" He paused, fumbled. "It's not meant to be serious. All the characters are out of proportion in body and in personality. That's what they are. Characters. They're not meant to be 100% true to life. They're over-dramatized representations."
"But why the bloody hell do all the women have to be so impossibly shaped?" Caroline crossed her arms, and her gaze lost no intensity. "And why are there so few of them?"
"Well, I mean, the men are quite ridiculous too. I mean, I draw them and I don't look like any of them. So I don't see what's different."
Jenny sighed and the women exchanged glances again. She poked her boyfriend in the stomach. "You're thick, Greg. I love you, but you're thick." She shook her head. "It's patriarchy. Whenever you have to ask yourself, when it comes to men and women, 'what's different here?' that's the answer: patriarchy."
Caroline nodded sharply at Jenny. "You, Flora can see anytime she likes." She then handed her empty glass to Greg, and scooped up Flora, hiked her, with some effort, up on to her hip. Her back protested but she wasn't willing to stop holding her little girl, while she was still her little girl. She and Jenny filed out on to the patio.
"Why hello, love." Celia bent and held her arms out to Flora, who had wiggled in excitement at seeing her gran on the sunny patio. Caroline set her down, a broad smile on her face as she watched her daughter toddle up to her grandmother for a hug.
"Hi Granna!" Flora had reached the stage of development that included the creation of adorable hybrid words. Celia was of course impossible to pronounce, and she had categorically refused to be called 'granny.' 'Makes me sound positively ancient,' was the argument, accompanied by a very sour face. 'Granna' had become the compromise.
Jenny wandered over to speak with Jane and Lawrence. Caroline smiled at Celia, split off, approached Margaret and George. She stepped up to George first, handsome as ever and decked out in tweed of course.
He wrapped her in a warm hug. "I haven't had a chance for a proper hello. It's always wonderful to see you, Caroline." He smiled and his voice rumbled pleasantly. "Thank you for having us."
"Yes - it is. Wonderful." Margaret beamed and came directly up to a now unsure Caroline, approximated the hug her husband had offered so easily.
The bones of her ribcage pressed into Caroline's chest. 'How does she instantly put me so impossibly off-balance?'
Now I know we already have history, you and I, Caroline. And we should put it behind us." Caroline was reminded that Eleanor had acquired her forthright nature right from the source – as well as her ability to flow seamlessly between blunt honesty and bewitching charm.
Still, Caroline was no amateur. "I'm glad to hear you say that. I'd like that."
"Good. It's settled then." Margaret's eyes twinkled and she sipped her champagne. "First things first. Happy birthday, darling."
"Thank you. Forty-nine – rather auspicious." She inclined her head, skepticism about the number not hidden on her face. It was so close to the significant milestone that approached at an ever-increasing pace.
"Time has absolutely nothing on you. You wear your years very well." George's tone was smooth, as seductive as Eleanor's ever was, and as comforting.
"Indeed you do. You're a striking woman. And forty-nine is absolutely youthful. Trust me." Margaret waved a claw-like hand and looked in up to the blue spring sky, and then around her. "Your home is lovely. As is your garden. I quite like the very simple structure. I can't abide some English gardens. Cloistered and overflowing with roses at every turn."
Caroline accepted it as a compliment, but was again put off-guard by Margaret's expression. Was there a challenge in her dark brown eyes?
"Why thank you, Margaret. We love it here."
"Yes – your mother – Celia – she and Alan live here as well?" Margaret looked over to the carriage house and back at Caroline. "It speaks volumes about your character that you're committed to maintaining the integrity of your family."
Again a compliment, and again – a challenge? Caroline met it with openness. It never worked to back off a show of strength. Far better to meet it with one of your own, in whatever form.
"Well it's not always been easy, but we manage. And it's truly wonderful to have her close - and Alan. He's the best of us all, I think." Caroline smiled over to Celia, Jane, Jenny and Lawrence chatting. Celia was holding Flora's hand, who was absorbed in the big people talk.
"We can see why you like having her close. We've thoroughly enjoyed meeting Celia, haven't we, George?" Margaret smiled up and laid a hand on her husband's arm.
"Yes. And enjoyed seeing how alike you two are, Caroline. Sharp wit and sharp tongue." He crinkled his eyes.
Caroline narrowed her own in a mock frown. She stared George down and they laughed together.
Margaret smirked. "Speaking of keeping those we love close, what do you mean to do, now that Eleanor will be in London?"
"I couldn't be prouder of our Lawrence, Jane. I'll say that much." Celia gave the boy an approving look, and he actually shuffled his feet.
Jane smiled at both of them, how like each other, and like Caroline they were. The familial similarities that drove you crazy when you were on the inside and were amusing to no end from the outside.
"We're proud to have him as well. I think he'll excel, once he graduates and comes on full time. He's already doing quite well. When he can manage to speak properly and string two words together."
Lawrence was beet red now, impossibly shamed by having two women praise him simultaneously. He looked around for another lad to ease his discomfort and found only Flora, looking up at him. He was finding her less annoying these days, now that she'd stopped crying incessantly. And even better at the moment, a perfect distraction. Without responding to either woman he plucked Flora up, over his head, and flew her away from the conversation, through the rest of the mingled crowd on the patio and out to the blessedly abandoned driveway. Well trained by Eleanor, she stuck her arms forward and gave a howling giggle.
Caroline, temporarily unable to respond to Margaret's assault, caught sight of the pair and pretended not to notice, but smiled despite herself.
She turned back to Margaret. "We haven't sorted London. But we're both smart. I'm sure we'll figure something out."
George played his assigned peacemaker role. "I'm sure you will. And – I'm famished. Let's grab breakfast, darling. You know Eleanor and June have been cooking. Let's see what they've whipped up."
Margaret inclined her head to Caroline, another smile from twinkling, dark eyes. "Happy birthday, dear."
"Thank you, Margaret." Caroline watched the couple head inside.
Celia spotted her and wandered over. The two stood side by side looking into the house, arms crossed and mirrors in posture. "Well, love - they're quite a family, aren't they?"
Caroline looked down at Celia. "Margaret makes me quite glad you're my mum."
Celia looked up with her own wry grin. "Now that's saying something, isn't it?"