She told me she had not yet confronted Paige. She told me she had told Andrew, and that Andrew was stunned and angry and had said he needed to talk to Paige himself before any larger conversation happened.
“What I am proposing,” Ruth said, “is a dinner at our home. Us, you, Paige, Andrew. So that we can all be in the same room and speak honestly. Paige will know you’re coming. Andrew will make sure of that.”
I sat with that for a moment.
“Does Paige know you’ve called me?” I asked.
“Not yet. I’m going to call her after I speak with you. I’m not trying to ambush anyone.”
I believed her. I don’t know that I had grounds to believe her after three meetings’ worth of acquaintance, but the care with which she was handling this told me something about her character.
I asked: “What is the goal? What do you want to happen at this dinner?”
Ruth was quiet for a moment. Then she said: “I want my son to know his wife’s mother. I want the truth to be in the room. What happens after that — I don’t know. I can’t know. But the truth being in the room seems like the necessary first step.”
“Yes,” I said. “It does.”
We agreed on Saturday evening. I said I would come. After we hung up I sat for a long time and then I called my friend Donna, who has known me for twenty-two years and who has an almost perfect record for helping me think clearly when I cannot do it myself.