She reminded my mother of the many times that she had helped her. She called my mother a thankless woman and suddenly started to cry. She told my mother that she was ready to fall on her feet like a beggar. “I can’t bear to see him suffer”, she said, weeping. “That’s why I’m begging you. He could never go with an outside woman, because then somehow people will know. You live in our house. You are not an outsider. So there is no danger of anybody finding out. Besides, at his age do you think that he will be very demanding? Just let him hold you once in a while. That’s all.” She kept on talking like this, obstinately, angrily, beseechingly. “Don’t forget,” she told my mother. “One word from me and you and your son will be thrown out of this house in no moment.” “Aiyo, Parvathiamma, don’t talk like that,” said my mother. “I and my son will be ever thankful to you and sar.” “Then , this is how you show your gratitude?” My mother began to cry. Maybe she was hurt when the old woman called. More than that, I was going to be moving it into the same house she was living in. I asked Sally what she had told Marion about us and our living arrangements, and Sally said 'pretty much everything.' Including Nicole and Simone living there, too. I checked.Sally had already called in contractors and actually had construction work being done by the end of the week. Marion invited her to come down and stay with her while I was gone for the week to Washington so she could be close to the action and they could talk. Again, I kept having that pesky nagging feeling that I should be worried about something.Later that week I managed to slip out for one of the lunches Mac and I liked to grab whenever we could. These lunches, which used to be weekly occurrences, had now gone to catch as catch can because of his game and travel schedule during the baseball season. He was getting ready to go south for Spring Training soon, so we would meet whenever we could.We had a good lunch. I could tell he.
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