Three Women Read Free Page A

like we both failed to breed lawyers.” Adam was studying film at NYU.
    â€œWell, Suzanne honey, don’t despair. Studying to be a rabbi is not quite like becoming a stripper. It’s an honorable profession.”
    â€œOr a maître d’.” Suzanne shook her head. “Don’t get me started on Elena. In and out of four different colleges and now she seats people in a restaurant.”
    â€œKids do what they can,” Marta said. “The carpenter who’s carrying out the renovations at Rackham, Klein and Forbes has a degree from Harvard. He was in computers. Now he makes cabinets.” That was Marta’s firm: she was the Klein.
    â€œTime to hit the road. Classes, and then I meet my policewoman. Do you want to sit in?”
    â€œLet me see how my day goes,” Marta said. “I looked over what you gave me, and I think you can make a strong sexual harassment case—provided you get a decent judge. You don’t know yet who you’re going to pull?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œKnock ’em dead.” Marta rose, and they went their separate ways into their separate days. Usually they touched base mornings and evenings. They were part of each other’s support system. At times they had been the only support for each other. When Suzanne thought of getting old, of some dim future when she was emeritus at the university, she did not assume her kids would be around, but she always assumed Marta would be.
    She decided she would reply to Jake tonight. She would just acknowledge his mention of a trip east and go on at some length about how busy she was now. That was a nice safe response and committed her to absolutely nothing—which was what she supposed she most desired.

2
    Suzanne
    Suzanne had just got back from court Thursday and was running a bath when Elena walked in, yelling from the living room, “Mother? Mother!”
    â€œYou startled me!” Suzanne cried, hastily pulling on her terry robe. She shut off the water. “Why didn’t you call?”
    â€œYou know you’re never here, Mother.”
    â€œHere I am right now. Besides, what are answering machines for?”
    â€œI always thought it was so you could stand and listen and decide if somebody was worth your attention, before you’d pick up.”
    Suzanne drew a deep breath. Be calm, be calm. She felt rising in herself the particular sharp anxiety tinged with fear she always felt when she had not seen her elder daughter for a while. “I’ll be right with you.” She rushed into her bedroom to throw on slacks and a sweater. Suzanne was systematic, orderly. She made a joke of it. “I’m the only daughter of an organizer, and wow, am I organized.” She called before going to a friend’s house (except for Marta upstairs), made appointments with everybody including her daughters. She had a daily calendar of activities, appointments, and projects from the mundane (take suit to cleaners; put recycled goods at curb) to the important (work on speech for Harvard women’s law alumnae meeting). She reminded herself in advance to buy presents for her children and her friends, all of whose sizes were kept up-to-date on her computer. Six months in advance, she made appointments with the dentist to have her teeth cleaned, and every November she arranged for Marta and herself to go and have their annual mammograms in January. Marta’s mother had died of breast cancer, so Marta could never bring herself to make the phone call.
    Suzanne realized this habit of meticulously planned days must irritate her older daughter, for Elena had certainly chosen to go to the other extreme, exalting spontaneity. Elena would never say, “I am coming to dinner next Friday,” but would always hedge her bets. “I think I can make it, but I’ll let you know.” It was the adolescent hope that something more exciting than dinner with Mama would turn up, a belief