Lily’s Hideaway

Window treatments were on Lily Stanton’s mind.  With the kitchen and the bathrooms done, most of the construction crew were now working on the studio out back to make it into a usable apartment—for someone.  She had moved into the main house, into the master bedroom in fact.  So much more comfortable.

Randy, the foreman of the job, had convinced Frank it would be cheaper just to have his guys strip the wallpaper and repaint the house and have the whole renovation completed rather than for Frank to do it himself, weekend after weekend.  Lily was happy about that because there were better things to do on the weekend.  Like the hiking trails, the farmers’ markets, musical events in the Berkshires.  And, of course, nights with Frank when they could just relax.

Right now the weekends were really her only time to relax because the guys were all over the house during the week, and she had to get her own work done.  She wanted to use the kitchen table, which was one of those old oak round tables with the claw feet.  But the guys thought nothing of coming in for water or their lunch in the refrigerator or whatever.  She could close the kitchen door, but that would be rude.

Yes, indeed, there was a door leading into the kitchen because Frank had decided, despite Randy’s urging, not to “open up” the farm house because it would lose its charm.  Or charm as Frank saw it.  “Not good for resale,” Randy warned.  Of course he was right.  On the other hand, this way the kitchen was very cozy because the furnace was right beneath it.  No air conditioning in the house when Frank bought it but now installed along with ceiling fans.  All new kitchen appliances, but with a retro look.  A red refrigerator?  Frank’s choice, obviously.

Lily didn’t know what she would get excited about after the renovation was completed.  Certainly not her work, even though it paid her minimal bills.  Her contribution now was not paying rent but buying the food and liquor so that, when Frank came on the weekends, they could just enjoy themselves. She wanted to continue paying rent, but he said that would make him feel like a kept man.

She had to wonder where he was getting all this money because this renovation wasn’t cheap.  But he said he was just billing more hours, taking on more work.

Yes, she did feel guilty about not contributing more to the renovation as a lot of choices were made by her alone.  So window treatments, they were very expensive. But the guys had taken down the old shades and the curtains were faded.  Something had to be done.

The doorbell rang.  Ping pong ping pong.  Couldn’t be the guys.  They were in and out all the time.  Lily unfolded herself from her chair and made her way through the house to the front door.  A neighbor?  No.  A man in a suit.  They really needed to get a doorbell with a camera for safety’s sake.  At least with all the construction guys around, Lily had nothing to fear.

She opened the door but left the screen door in place.  “Hello,” she said.

“Lily Stanton?” the man asked.  He looked—god, he looked like a cop.  What’s with her parents now!

“Yes.”

“My name is Eric Stern.  I’m a private investigator.”

She wasn’t going to say a damn thing.

“Your mother sent me to find you.”

“What!”

“She was worried about you.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Lily said rather angrily, “I call her every week. She has my number and she knows how to use a cell phone.”

“But I guess it’s a case of you not picking up.”

“And that’s a case of me keeping my sanity,” Lily retorted.  “I listen to her messages. If anything had been urgent, I would have called her back.  But nothing is urgent.  How did you locate me anyway?”

“Phone. Charge card usage.”

“Illegally snooping?”

“Standard procedure.  I understand this house belongs to Frank Franklin.  A friend from Scarsdale?”

“None of your business.”

“Well, I just wanted to let you know your mother is worried about you as you would never give her your location.  I’ll be able to assure her you’re safe.  And in good hands?” He smiled.  Rudely.

Then he walked back down the steps, got into his sedan, backed out of the driveway and disappeared.

Lily was shaken.  Her mother would now know where she lived.  Her mother knew the Franklins. Her mother always sounded so desperate on the phone.  So what would she do now that she had all this information at hand?

Should she call Frank, Lily wondered.  No.  Middle of the work day.  She’d wait until later at night when she was sure he’d be in his apartment.  Could this be harassment?  Was there something Frank could do legally?  She should have gotten a burner phone and not used her credit card.  But who knew one would be chased down by one’s own mother.

Lily waited until nine to call Frank.  He listened while she related what had happened and then said, “Did he give you his card?”

“No.  I—I didn’t even think to ask for identification.  How stupid is that.  But—who expects a private investigator to come to your door?  Is there some legal recourse?” Lily wondered

“Oh, Lily, you don’t want to go in that direction.  Once lawyers get involved it can be a scorched earth situation.  If I were you, I’d carefully compose a letter or an email to your mother, expressing your love and understanding of her predicament. But tell her what you’ve told me.  That’s her life. It’s not yours.”

“And add something about my mental health,” Lily added grimly.

“Well—she has mental health too, and I’m sure it’s not very good.  Her life has been basically ruined by your father.  Her comfortable old age no longer exists.  Be empathetic but be firm that you need to separate yourself from your parents’ problems.  I’ll see you this weekend.  We’ll do something fun.  Write the email, get some sleep.”

At that moment, Lily hated Frank.  Why did he have to see two sides of the issue and not just hers?  Didn’t she deserve to have a life free of trauma?  She had stuck it out at her parents’ home as long as she could bear it.  But she needed to think of her own survival.  Email, be damned.  However—

Frank was a lawyer.  She supposed she should take his advice.  So—here goes:

“Mom, a private investigator came to my rental today under the pretense of your motherly concern for me.  I must say I was disturbed that you would set someone on me who would illegally check my credit cards and phone location.  I’ve made it a practice to call you once a week so that you can vent all you want. And vent you do.  Despite that, you feel you can call me sometimes as much as ten times a day, always frantic about something.  One time Wegman’s didn’t give you the sale price on oranges.  Did you really expect me to respond to something like that?  I’m very sorry that Dad screwed up his life and as a consequence yours.  But what can I do about it? I stayed there as long as I was physically and mentally able.  But I then made the decision not to be consumed by Dad’s scandal.  So I’ve moved where no one is aware of what Dad did and where I can find peace and get on with my life.  I’m hoping that as my mother you can understand my position.  Don’t think for a moment that I don’t sympathize with what you’re going through.  I do.  I wish none of this had ever happened. But it has and we all have to deal with it in our own way.  Never forget that I love you and I hope you love me enough to give me the freedom to live my own life.”