A Slender Thread Read Online Free PDF Page B

tears and swirled the tea bag in her mug.
    Lacey was the capable one, wise and practical even as a young woman. After their mother died Lacey had been the one to travel home on weekends to check on their father. When his health had deteriorated a few years later, Lacey helped him find doctors, visited him in the hospital, and was with him when he died. She even arranged for the funeral. By then, she was married to Alex and living in New Hampshire. Margot thought of Lacey and Alex as the adults, while she, four years younger, was still floundering and trying to figure out her life.
    The kitchen filled with the aroma of coffee. Margot swished her tea bag once more before removing it and putting it on a saucer next to the sink. She sat on a stool at the far side of the counter. She couldn’t leave Alex now that they had started to talk.
    â€œLacey said she’d tell the girls once they had decided about college,” she said.
    â€œThere’s nothing to tell them.” He pulled himself up and away from the counter. “Lacey will come through this. I just know it.” He had dark circles beneath his eyes.
    â€œBut what if she gets worse?”
    â€œYou can’t say that,” he said, his voice sharp. “Okay. She has a problem, a big one—I grant you that, but problems can be solved.”
    â€œLacey said the scans showed deterioration.”
    â€œDamn the scans. She’s managing fine now.” Alex looked down at Margot. She thought he might reach over and shake her, insisting that she listen to him and trust that he was going to find a solution.
    â€œPlease, Alex,” Margot said. “I want to believe you. You know how I love Lacey. I love both of you. I don’t want any of this to be happening.”
    â€œI know that,” he said more kindly.
    Margot wanted to tell him that it would be fine, that maybe he was right. Lacey might not get worse. She wished she could comfort him, but she felt so inadequate. Lacey was always the one who calmed, who soothed, who made the world better for all of them.
    Alex’s face went slack. He lowered himself onto the stool opposite her. “You can’t imagine what we’ve been through. What she’s been through.” He spoke more softly. “They’ve found some deterioration in her left frontal lobe. It could have been there for years.” His eyes met hers. “I haven’t heard any definitive reason to believe that it might get worse.”
    Margot took in a big breath and nodded. The final sputtering of the coffee machine ended and Alex got up and busied himself filling his cup and pouring in milk. And why shouldn’t she believe him? Alex was smart, good at his work. Years before, he had reorganized and sold his family’s manufacturing business. Now he worked as a consultant to other family-run corporations. He fixed things. He was used to grappling with problems—making things turn out right.
    â€œI’m sorry I snapped at you,” he said. “We’ve got a lot going on right now.”
    â€œIt’s okay.” Maybe Lacey hadn’t really understood what the doctors had said.
    Alex put down his coffee and took an orange from a bowl on the counter. “Lacey says that Oliver is working on paintings for a dealer out in California.” He tore into the skin of the orange and peeled it off in big chunks.
    â€œHe wants to get better known there.” Margot could tell that the topic of Lacey’s illness was closed. “He’s worried that the New York market is fading for him.”
    â€œHe’s still selling for big bucks, according to Toni.” He held some of the orange toward her, an offering of sorts. Margot accepted the sections of fruit.
    Her niece Toni was curious about Oliver and was always plying him with questions. “His paintings sell for a lot,” Margot said, “but the art world is fickle. Oliver is the first to admit that.” She