Chapter 8: What Diane Didn't Know
She agreed to meet, though she didn't sound pleased about it.
The following Saturday, we drove back to Calloway Street.
Mrs.
Patton had called the night before to let me know Diane was coming down from Millbrook.
She had said it simply, without apology, but I heard something underneath it — a kind of bracing, the way you breathe in before something cold.
Diane's car was already in the driveway when we arrived.
A clean silver sedan, newer than anything on the block.
Mrs.
Patton opened the door before we could knock.
She was dressed more carefully than the week before — a pressed blouse, her white hair neatly pinned.
She looked at Justin first.
"Come in," she said.
"She's in the sitting room."
Diane Patton was standing when we walked in, not sitting, which told me something.
She was in her early fifties, well-dressed, with her mother's sharp blue eyes and none of her mother's warmth.
She looked at Justin the way you look at something you're trying to assess quickly.
"You must be Justin," she said.
"Yes, ma'am." He met her eyes without flinching.
She looked at me.
"And you're his mother."
"I am."
A pause.
She gestured toward the sofa.
We sat.
She remained standing for a moment longer than was comfortable, then sat across from us.
Mrs.
Patton took her chair.
"Diane," she said.
"These are the people I told you about."
"I know who they are, Mother."
"Then perhaps you could speak to them like it."
Diane's jaw tightened.
She looked at Justin.
"I want to be straightforward," she said.
"I don't doubt that you were trying to be helpful.
But my mother is seventy-nine years old and she lives alone and she is —" She paused.
"Vulnerable.
To people who seem kind."
"Diane." Mrs.
Patton's voice was quiet and flat.
"I'm allowed to say it, Mother."
"You're saying it as if it's an accusation."
"I'm saying it as a fact."
Justin leaned forward slightly.
"Mrs.
Patton — Diane — I never asked your mother for anything.
Not once.
I didn't knock on her door.
I didn't introduce myself.
I just mowed the lawn and left."
"For an entire summer," Diane said.
"On a property you had no permission to be on."
"She's right about that," Justin said.
He didn't look away.
"I should have asked first.
I know that now.
But I saw her struggling and I just — wanted to help."
Diane looked at him for a long moment.
Something shifted in her face.
Not much.
Just enough.
"The check," she said.
"I'd like you to return it."
The room went still.
Mrs.
Patton turned to look at her daughter.
Her voice, when it came, was very controlled.
"That is not your decision to make."
"Mother —"
"That money is mine.
That check was my choice." Mrs.
Patton's hands were folded in her lap, perfectly still.
"I am not confused.
I am not being manipulated.
I am a grown woman who decided to give a gift to someone who earned it.
And I will not have you sit in my house and treat my judgment like it is a symptom."
The word landed hard.
Diane opened her mouth.
Closed it.
"I haven't seen you in fourteen months," Mrs.
Patton said.
"Fourteen months, Diane.
Justin came to this yard every two weeks all summer without being asked.
You will not come into this house and question his character when you have not once come to check on mine."
The silence that followed was the kind that doesn't recover quickly.
Diane looked at her mother.
Her eyes were bright.
"That's not fair," she said.
Her voice had lost its edge.
What was underneath was rawer.
"I have a life.
I have responsibilities.
I can't just —"
"I know," Mrs.
Patton said.
"I know you have a life.
I'm not asking you to give it up.
I'm asking you to remember that I have one too."
Diane looked down at her hands.
Justin was very still beside me.
After a long moment, Diane looked up at him.
"I'm sorry," she said.
It came out quietly.
"I didn't handle this well."
Justin nodded.
"It's okay.
You were trying to look out for her."
Diane looked at her mother.
Mrs.
Patton looked back.
"Stay for lunch," Mrs.
Patton said.
Not a question.
Diane was quiet for a moment.
"Okay," she said.
May you like
"Yes.
I'll stay."
