said.
âShe wouldnât know,â Marilyn retorted.
That was a good point too, I had to admit. As a matter of fact, I thought it was an excellent point. âWhy would she even lock it unless it had interesting stuff in there?â I said.
So Maddie showed us where the key wasâunderneath a section of torn cloth in one of Momâs jewelry boxes. Marilyn unlocked the cabinet in the small room next to our momâs bedroom, and opened the top drawer. âLetters from men alphabetized,â she said. She leafed through several files before pulling one out. âLook at this! Hereâs a letter from Larry saying he wants to say good-bye nicely. He says he doesnât want to end with their phone conversation because that was so negative. He tells her sheâs beautiful.â She opened the second drawer and turned to us. âThe whole drawer is filled with pictures of her with men.â
The rest of us leaned over Marilyn and began rifling through the pictures. The odd thing was that while it seemed to me that she knew hundreds of men, there didnât seem to be that many in the photographs. All the pictures were the same, with both my mother and the men smiling brightly. Mostly, she and the man stood with arms around each other. She even had a picture of my father. She looked so differentâyoungerâin the picture with him. For the first time I could see how my mother was getting older. And there was a picture of Mr. Bronson as well. At first I didnât recognize himbecause he was smiling broadly; he looked almost silly. And he was wearing blue jeans, which Iâd never seen him in. His eyes actually seemed to be twinkling, and he was looking directly into the camera. He was happy, ridiculously happy.
Marilyn put the pictures away and opened the third drawer. I looked over her shoulder. It was all legal papers. One folder was labeled HARVEY BRONSON . I pointed. âCheck that one.â
Marilyn gingerly pulled out the file, and we fell on it like vultures. He
was
trying to get custody of Maddie. In his custody suit he claimed our mother was unfit.
âThatâs why she needs money so badly now,â Marilyn said. âTo pay for the lawyer. Look at this attorney bill.â
Maddie was scowling. âWhatâs custody?â she asked.
âIf he gets custody, heâll take you to live with him.â
âWhat?â Maddie said. âWhat do you mean? Tell me!â She pulled on my sleeve. âShelby, tell me.â
âCustody means whoâs in charge of you,â I said. âSort of. And if he has custody, he gets to make all the decisions about you.â
âBut I donât like him,â she said. âHeâs yucky.â She pulled on my sleeve again. âIs anyone listening?â
âYouâre not going anywhere,â I assured her. Then we heard a noise from the living room.
âSomeoneâs at the door!â Lakey cried out. We sprang up as one, and Marilyn ran to put the key away while I pressed the filing cabinet lock gently into place. We rushed into the living room. My heart pounded.
Someone knocked insistently. Marilyn looked through the peephole. She whispered in my ear, âPierre.â I whispered the information in Maddieâs ear, and Maddie whispered in Lakeyâs ear.
I tiptoed to peer out the peephole. Pierre was in a suit and holding flowers. He leaned toward the peephole, and I moved my eye quickly away. We stood gathered around the door, waiting for the pounding to start. But Pierre was calmer than last time weâd seen him. We didnât hear anything for a long time, and when I peered out again, he had gone.
Our mother still hadnât come home by the time I fell asleep later that night.
Lately, she was milking her men like cows. Her coffers grew quickly. She found a man younger than her and richer than anyone sheâd ever met. He had inherited a great deal of money because his