“The truth was, there was no guarantee that the medicine would have saved him. It took too long to get him to the hospital. My house was out in the woods, miles away from the nearest town … a man in Bobby's condition never should have gone there.”

“But the medicine might have kept him going until he got to the hospital.”

“Yes.”

“And Mother knew it.”

“Yes. And she was horrified—not just because of what she'd done, but because she'd become someone who could do something like that. She decided she'd been corrupted by ego and pride and had been too invested in possessions and position.”

Carrie could hear her mother saying this. And suddenly, she started to laugh. After a shocked second, Lu joined in. They laughed and laughed for a long time until the tears started running, and then they were crying and holding each other. They did that for a long time too, until Carrie felt empty but kind of clean. Lu got them each a wad of tissues from her dressing table and patted her own makeup expertly. Carrie wasn't wearing any, so she just blew her nose.

“So Mother dumped her whole life, everything that had mattered to her,” she said.

“Penance,” answered Lu.

Images of her mother's radiant smile when she was working at the shelter ran through Carrie's mind. She thought about the three signature beige gowns Rose had had made for her public appearances, and the white leather scrapbook she'd kept. “I think the penance worked out for her,” she said. Then she remembered sitting with her mother at Mass when Rose bowed her head and didn't go to receive Communion. “Part of the time,” she amended.

“I hope so.” Lu's voice shook a little. “I want to believe she was happy—at least part of the time.”

“It's funny—she tried to get rid of Mrs. Bobby Manning and start over. But she couldn't escape his legend.”

“Bobby had nothing to do with it. Your mother couldn't escape her own star power. All the women in our family have it.” Carrie looked at her grandmother sitting next to her on the bed, but Lu wasn't bragging; she was simply stating a fact.

I wish I could have seen her on the stage, Carrie thought. She must have been magical.

“I'm afraid that star power skipped my generation,” she said.

Her grandmother reached over to stroke her face. “Oh, the jury's still out on you, sweetie.” She smiled. “I loved your chocolate truffles, by the way. When I smelled the lavender one I was afraid it would taste like soap, but it was delicious.”

“I ducked out of that business.”