“Mom called this weekend. She wanted to know when Mariel was taking her next spa weekend so she could come up. Since every other weekend is a spa weekend for Mariel and we’ve hit that rotation, she’s coming up on Friday. Why?”

Mom and I agreed on very few things. Our mutual dislike of Mariel was one of them. And a shocking twist to this, we both disliked her for the same reason.

Not that Mariel wasn’t the appropriately styled, turned out and behaved wife to a prominent attorney who also was a Bourne-Hathaway (because she was).

But that she didn’t make Lawr happy.

Mom avoided Mariel like the plague.

“I haven’t heard from them for a while. I’ve been emailing but I get nothing,” I explained.

“Neither of them are big on email,” Lawr reminded me.

“I know but they also haven’t phoned or anything. Not in weeks, or, Lawr, maybe even months.”

“They disagreed with you moving across country, MeeMee. Maybe this is your penance. But I’ll talk to Mom when she’s up this weekend. See if I can find out where she’s at with that.”

I knew he’d get nowhere with that. If Mom didn’t feel like sharing, and with her silence she obviously didn’t, she wouldn’t share.

I still said, “I’d appreciate it.”

“Consider it done.”

I smiled and asked, “You going to be okay?”

“In the stages of grief, I’m past denial, anger and bargaining. I’ve hit depression. One more to go and I’m good,” he joked.

I didn’t laugh.

“I’m here, anytime you need me, Lawrie,” I told him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he replied.

“I’ve gotta get back to the residents. Jeopardy is after Wheel of Fortune and the staff try to stick close in case a fight breaks out.”

I was relieved to hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’ll let you go.”

“Lawrie?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you lots and lots,” I whispered words I’d say to him when he was there for me when we were kids. Putting a Band-Aid on my arm or calamine lotion on my poison ivy or listening to me after a boyfriend broke up with me. In that house with zero love and affection, he was the best brother there could be.

“Love you lots and lots back, MeeMee.”

“See you soon.”

“You will. ’Bye, sweets.”

“’Bye, Lawrie.”

We disconnected and I stared unseeing out the windows of the fire doors at the back of the hall.

I wanted to invite Robin to Thanksgiving.

I knew it would be too soon, maybe for both of them.

So I couldn’t invite Robin to Thanksgiving.

That didn’t stop me from really, really wanting to.

Then, suddenly, I found my hand lifting and my finger sliding across the screen of my phone.