Darcy entered, setting her book bag on the floor and following Clive into the living room. He collapsed on a sofa. She took a chair across from him. A pile of books had toppled off a side table, some lying splayed open, their pages bent, and Darcy had to hold back the urge to pick them up, smooth the pages, close them, and place them with care on the table.
Several glasses and mugs were scattered on the coffee table, the rug, and the hearth. Some had coffee. Some sent the sharp scent of alcohol into the air.
“How long has Mimi been sick?” Darcy asked. “Has she seen a doctor?”
“I shouldn’t alarm you, Darcy. I’m sorry if I did. It’s a cold, only a summer cold, but it’s knocked the stuffing out of her. No, she hasn’t seen a doctor here, but I’ve phoned her doctor at home to get advice. She’s on several medications, you know, and I didn’t want to give her decongestants or antihistamines in case they would react badly with her medications.” He leaned back against the sofa and took a moment to close his eyes before continuing. “She’s been in bed for several days. She’s got a bad cough, and her chest is congested, and her breathing is labored.”
Darcy was worried. “Clive, that sounds serious. Shouldn’t she see a doctor here?”
Clive smiled ruefully. “Mimi says not. Says I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Is she getting any sleep? Are you?”
“I’ve been making her drink beef broth from a cup.”
“That’s good,” Darcy told him. “That seems like the right thing to do.”
“And she has Scotch every afternoon,” Clive added, smiling. “She says it’s medicinal.”
Darcy was relieved to see him smile. “It probably is.”
Her sympathy went out to the man, so sophisticated, so talented, and so devoted to his grandmother. She really did know how he felt.
“Are you eating?”
Clive scanned the room, as if searching for evidence. He shrugged. “Probably.”
“Clive, may I see her?”
He frowned. “She’s in bed, and her hair looks messy, and the room smells like cough syrup….”
“Clive, I lived with my grandmother most of my life. I was with her when she was elderly. I think I’ve pretty much seen it all when it comes to an older person’s sickroom. You are such a dedicated person, but I would like to help. I think at a time like this, it would be right for someone to help.”
“She’ll be furious if I let you into her bedroom.”
Darcy smiled. “I hope she is furious. That will be a sign she’s still got plenty of energy.”
“All right, then….”
Like many old Nantucket houses, this house had two parlors, and when they moved in for the summer, Clive had turned one of them into a bedroom for Mimi so she wouldn’t have the trouble of climbing the stairs. It was a pretty room, with a marble fireplace and a chandelier and good oil seascapes on the walls. Clive had closed the curtains to help Mimi rest, but the first thing Darcy noticed when she entered was how the room smelled.
Mimi lay on the twin bed Clive had brought down for her. She was propped on several pillows. Next to her was a table littered with books, tissues, a carafe of water, and a glass. Her eyes were closed, and as Darcy entered, a wracking cough shook the older woman’s body.
Darcy turned to Clive. “Do you have a thermometer?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll check the bathrooms.” He left the room.
Darcy moved close to Mimi’s bed. She took Mimi’s hand. “Hi, Mimi,” she said softly. “It’s Darcy.”
To Darcy’s infinite relief, Mimi opened her eyes and croaked, “What? You think I don’t recognize your voice?”
“Clive tells me you’ve got a summer cold.”
“Yes, my darling, and you should go away right now. It might be contagious.”
“After spending all day with children, I think I’m immune,” Darcy told her. As she spoke, she evaluated Mimi and her sickbed. “When did you last use the bathroom?”
Mimi managed a feeble snort. “Darcy, you’re not a nurse or a relative. I don’t think that matter is your concern.”
“Well, I do,” Darcy insisted. “And if all you have is a summer cold, you ought to get up and move a bit. That will break up the stuff in your lungs. I’m going to help you into the bathroom—”
“Don’t embarrass me, Darcy,” Mimi pleaded in a whisper. “I use Depends.”
“Yes, well, you need a fresh one,” Darcy told her in a matter-of-fact tone. “I doubt if you want your grandson changing your underwear. Come on, let’s toddle off to the bathroom.”
“You librarians think you know everything,” Mimi moaned. But she allowed Darcy to help her sit up.
Darcy moved Mimi’s legs so they hung over the side of the bed. She let Mimi have time to adjust to this new position, but even so, the move sent her into a fresh coughing fit.
Clive entered the room. “No thermometer.”
“Never mind. Help me get Mimi to the toilet.”
“Oh, misery and humiliation,” Mimi moaned as Clive and Darcy each took a side and half walked, half carried Mimi down the hall. “Don’t come in with me!” Mimi commanded once they were in the small downstairs half bath. “I can do the rest all by myself!”
“Fine,” Darcy said. “I’m going to fetch you a fresh nightgown. I’ll knock on the door and hand it in to you in a few moments.” She turned to Clive. “Come help me.”
In Mimi’s room, she threw back the curtains and opened the windows, allowing fresh air to sweep in.
“Clive, could you find some clean sheets for the bed?” she asked. She gathered Mimi’s soiled linens from the mattress and shook out the light cotton quilt, hanging it over a chair to air out. She searched the dresser that Clive had brought down for Mimi, and when she’d found a nightgown—a violet silk sleeveless one that must have cost a bomb—she took it down the hall to the bathroom.
She knocked. “How are you doing, Mimi?”
Mimi’s response was garbled. Fear stabbed Darcy. Then Mimi said more clearly, “I’m brushing my teeth. I never thought brushing my teeth would be such a pleasure. Just toss the gown in, dear.”
Oh, Mimi sounded stronger, almost like herself! Darcy obeyed and returned to the bedroom to put clean sheets on the bed. Already the air smelled fresher, and she could hear the birds sing.
This time when Darcy and Clive assisted Mimi back to her room and her bed, Darcy noticed that Mimi felt lighter. She’d clearly lost weight.
“Mimi, I’m going to make you a little something to eat. You need food to keep your strength up.”
“Thank you, dear, but I’m not really hungry.”
“You still need to eat.”
Before Mimi could object, Darcy left the room. In the kitchen, she quickly evaluated the situation—two eggs, a hunk of cheddar cheese, no milk.
She stuck her head into Mimi’s room. Clive had turned on the television and they were both watching the screen.
“I’m going next door. I’ll be right back.”