Excerpt of Another Life by Ann Roth

Mary Beth Mason was running late because she couldn’t find
her keys. Where had she left them? Standing in the middle
of the kitchen where she’d spent the past hour preparing a
chicken-broccoli casserole for dinner, she tried to recall.

She remembered the cell phone ringing as she’d pulled into
the garage after the garden club meeting—Susan Andrews
wanted to discuss the upcoming ballet guild fundraiser.
Absorbed by the conversation Mary Beth had wandered inside
and tossed the keys . . . somewhere. She drew a blank.

Nerves thrumming, she chewed the pad of her thumb, which
wasn’t as satisfying as biting her nails but protected her
bi-weekly manicure. Good thing Stephen wasn’t here, because
he considered any kind of finger or nail chewing “coarse.”

What was it he said last week when she couldn’t find her
sunglasses? “Forty years old and senile already.”

It was a joke but also a jibe. Stephen, who was nearly
sixty and neurotically organized, never misplaced anything
and didn’t understand people who did. Especially his wife.

The minute-hand on the art deco kitchen clock stuttered
forward, and she was later still. As breathless as if she
was in the middle of a tennis lesson, she rapidly searched
the kitchen, the den, the dining and living rooms, and even
the powder room reserved for guests. No luck. The keys
weren’t in any of the bedrooms or bathrooms upstairs,
either, or in her purse, sweater, or coat pockets.

“Oh, dear,” she muttered, back in the kitchen. Maybe she
was getting senile.

It was her day to drive carpool. Aurora didn’t like to be
kept waiting after swim-team practice, which ended exactly
fifteen minutes from now. Mary Beth pictured her daughter’s
pretty young face tightened into the same scowl Stephen
used to convey disapproval. Father and daughter also shared
the same intolerance for those who weren’t as organized and
punctual as they were.

But then lately, Aurora found fault with Mary Beth no
matter what she did. At fourteen the world revolved around
her, and she expected her mother to bow to her needs no
matter what. Teenagers!

Worse, Aurora would whine about this to Stephen tomorrow
night when he called from Singapore. Then the chiding would
begin.

“There are only three of us in this family, Mary Beth. How
hard can it be to run the household smoothly and
efficiently?” she mimicked, lowering her voice in imitation
of Stephen’s. “Surely even you can do that.”

“I’d like to see you juggle Women’s Club and PTA meetings,
the garden club, symphony, art guild, and opera
fundraisers, and sit through every one of Aurora’s swim
meets and clarinet recitals,” she muttered under her
breath.

Not loud enough for anyone to hear, because Mary Beth
preferred to avoid conflict. Of course, at the moment there
was nobody around to hear.

Stephen never drove Aurora anyplace, and he rarely attended
her activities. He was too busy making money and traveling
to Asia to work with clients. He paid the bills and handled
the investments. Mary Beth’s job was to run the house and
care for their daughter, and that meant picking her up on
time.

The phone rang—not the cell but the land line. She ignored
it. Friends and family would know to try the cell. Anybody
else could leave a voicemail message. After five rings, the
machine picked up.

There was one last place to check for the keys. By the time
she reached the foyer, the phone was ringing again. Her
gaze homed in on the marble-top console inside the entry.
Though she couldn’t recall using the front door or the
adjoining coat closet today, her keys lay there, a tangle
of silver and gold.

Wouldn’t you know they’d be in the last place she looked.
At least she had them now. They jingled as she snatched
them up.

The phone went silent. Almost immediately it rang again.
Odd. She checked her watch, then rushed into the kitchen
and picked up.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Mary Beth Mason?” asked a sober female voice.

Too clipped and businesslike for a salesperson.

“Yes, it is,” she replied, tapping her toe impatiently on
the floor. Hurry up, hurry up.

“This is Barbara Collins for Dr. Suzanne Frank at
Harborview Hospital in Seattle. Please hold.”

Seattle? Aside from a family vacation years ago, Mary Beth
didn’t know the city or anyone living there. This call made
no sense, but while she waited on hold she ran through the
possibilities. Couldn’t be family, because Stephen and
Aurora were her only living relatives. Stephen had a frail
brother twelve years older, but he lived in England. There
were business associates all over the world, but all their
friends lived here in San Francisco.

The line clicked. “This is Dr. Frank,” said a soft female
voice. “I’m afraid I have bad news. Your husband has
suffered a massive coronary.”

The words didn’t penetrate. Mary Beth frowned. “There must
be some mistake. Who did you say you are?”

“Dr. Suzanne Frank at Harborview Hospital,” the woman
repeated. “You are the Mary Beth Mason married to Stephen
Edward Mason III?”

“I am, but—”

“Your husband is in the ICU under my care, Mrs. Mason.”

The keys slipped from Mary Beth’s fingers, clattering onto
the tile. “But that can’t be.” She sank onto a bleached-
wood kitchen chair. “Stephen is a partner at the law firm
of Jones, Westin and Hawkins. He specializes in
international law. That’s why he’s in Singapore.” Though no
one could see her, she shook her head. “He’s definitely not
in Seattle.”

The doctor cleared her throat. “Look, I don’t know anything
about your husband’s travel itinerary.

All I know is, if you want to see him alive you’d better
get up here right away. I don’t think he’s going to make it
through the night.”

Mary Beth slumped in the hospital-beige lounge chair
outside the Harborview Hospital Cardiac ICU. It was nearly
one in the morning, eight hours since she’d received the
call that had brought her here. She’d arrived at the
hospital only twenty minutes ago, but it felt like days.

Stephen had suffered a second coronary, the nurse at the
ICU desk had informed her, and the doctors were working to
save him. So here she sat, numb and waiting. Yet nagging
questions hummed through her brain like irritating gnats.

For starters, what was Stephen doing in Seattle when he was
supposed to be in Singapore? Why hadn’t he told her where
he was?

Mary Beth hugged her Prada handbag close. It was cold and
hard when she needed warmth, a comforting touch, or at
least a sympathetic smile. But at this late hour she was
the lone visitor.

If only she’d brought Aurora. Her distraught daughter had
begged to come along, but Mary Beth hadn’t wanted her to
see her daddy this sick. So she’d called Ellie Saunders,
her oldest and dearest friend, and asked her to stay with
Aurora. Stephen didn’t approve of the never-married Ellie,
whose father once had served time for passing bad checks
and who worked as a paralegal at a non-profit law firm
specializing in immigration. But the woman was like a
sister to Mary Beth and a godsend of a friend, and she
lived in nearby Oakland. She’d packed a bag and come at
once, offering to stay with Aurora until Mary Beth brought
Stephen home.

The elevator pinged and a weary-looking but beautiful woman
stepped from the cage, balancing a large cup of Starbucks
coffee and a jumbo Godiva chocolate bar. She wore strappy
heels that had to hurt her feet, and shimmery off-black
stockings. Her legs were long and shapely, and she walked
like a woman used to high heels, an art Mary Beth had never
mastered.

Blowing a strand of thick, blond hair from her face, she
took a seat across from the white coffee table in the same
waiting area. Her hair was shoulder- length, wavy and
glamorous, and the color looked natural. She set down her
things and shrugged out of her black dress coat, which
looked to be cashmere.

The coffee smelled good. Mary Beth tucked her limp, brown,
chin-length hair, which she dyed to hide the gray, behind
her ears. She and the blonde exchanged weary, sad smiles.

The woman was a good ten years younger than she. Judging by
the slinky black cocktail dress clinging to her body, she
was slimmer and shapelier than Mary Beth had ever been. She
put on weight just thinking about candy, but this woman
probably ate all the chocolate she wanted and never gained
a pound.

Mary Beth envied her. She also felt frumpy and fat. She
tugged her gray cardigan over her ample hips and wished
she’d changed out of her old gray wool trousers, striped
blouse, and loafers before rushing to catch the plane.