Chapter 56 Summary: What Lily Holds
⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This guide contains detailed spoilers for the entire novel. Proceed only if you've finished reading or are comfortable knowing the plot.
Summary
In Chapter 56, Lily stands in the communal garden of her apartment complex, phone pressed to her ear, while Nick speaks on the other end. Over the years, the garden's care has fallen to her, and under her watch it now blooms with dramatic ocean spray and purple butterfly bush cones. Other residents—young parents and commuting professionals—show little interest. One parent, who never weeds or organizes the tool shed, asks why Lily doesn't grow vegetables. Lily has no answer; the flowers are useless. An older resident admires the fiery orange gladiolus, calling them sword lilies, though they look like swords that are totally ineffectual. To Lily, flowers are a marvel—they erupt season after season into colors, shapes, and scents, brilliantly existing without ever asking what they are for.
Lily is fifty-three, and when asked her age she must pause to recall it, each time with surprise. She occasionally imagines alternate lives she might have led: married or divorced, in New York, still driven by ambition, or in Beijing had her parents never fled, dreaming in a different language. She was pleased to enter her fifties, celebrating with friends over a leg of lamb and a case of wine, and the next morning's hangover was difficult, almost delicious. Her body has changed, but unlike in puberty, it has grown more familiar, not less. As a younger person she was never comfortable, burdened by the expectation placed on the young—full of potential, able to change the world, until they did or didn't. Nobody expects anything remarkable from a woman her age, and she never wanted to be remarkable.
Her life is small, rich, and entirely hers. She has Nick, her mahjong friends, fellow swimmers from the pool, children from the day care where she works, and patients at the hospice center where she volunteers. She once believed connection meant sameness, consensus, harmony—having everything in common. Now she understands the opposite: connection is more valuable, more remarkable, for the fact of differences. Friendship doesn't require blunting the richness of yourself to find common ground; it's also appreciating another person in all their particularity.
She rarely thinks of Matthew anymore, even though she sees him in her son's face. She loved him, of course. She wonders what if they had truly been able to choose each other, if she had promised her life to him in the orchard with only goldfinches as witnesses. But it's all in the past.
At the hospice center, sitting with dying men and women and holding their hands, Lily thinks of her mother. If alive, her mother would be eighty-five. Lily told Nick as a child that his grandmother was dead; later she confessed she didn't know for sure. As a parent, she sought to do the opposite of what her mother did—not expecting Nick to resemble her, not burdening him with expectations. Yet she wonders if she is any different, and whether love between a mother and child can be anything less than completely overwhelming.
Nick's voice comes over the phone: “Mom, are you there?” She apologizes, says she's there. Then he tells her: She was alive. Lily's mother is alive.
Key Events
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Lily tends the communal garden, which blooms under her care while other residents ignore it.
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A parent questions why she doesn't grow vegetables; an older resident admires the gladioli.
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Lily reflects on turning fifty-three, her fiftieth birthday celebration, and the alternate lives she might have led.
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She describes her current life: Nick, mahjong friends, swimmers, day care work, hospice volunteering.
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She reconsiders her old belief that connection requires sameness, now valuing difference.
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She thinks of Matthew, whom she rarely thinks of, and the orchard scene where they might have chosen each other.
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At hospice, she thinks of her mother, who would be eighty-five, and recalls telling Nick his grandmother was dead, then later admitting uncertainty.
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She reflects on her parenting choices, trying to avoid her mother's expectations.
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Nick calls and reveals that Lily's mother is alive.
Character Development
Lily's arc in this chapter is one of quiet acceptance and a shift in her understanding of connection. She has moved from a younger self burdened by expectation to a middle-aged woman who finds freedom in being unremarkable. Her body, once a source of discomfort, has become familiar. She no longer seeks sameness in relationships; instead, she appreciates the particularity of others. This is a mature, grounded perspective.
Her relationship with her mother is central. She told Nick his grandmother was dead, then later confessed she didn't know for sure—a confession that reveals deep uncertainty and perhaps guilt. As a parent, she deliberately tried to do the opposite of her mother, not expecting Nick to resemble her. Yet she questions whether she succeeded, wondering if mother-child love is inherently overwhelming. This introspection sets up the emotional impact of Nick's revelation.
The chapter also shows Lily's detachment from Matthew. She rarely thinks of him, though she sees him in Nick's face. The orchard memory is a wistful what-if, but she dismisses it as past. This suggests she has made peace with her choices, even as the news about her mother threatens to unsettle that peace.
Themes, Symbols, or Motifs
Flowers as beauty without purpose – The garden's flowers are explicitly “useless” and “ineffectual,” yet they are a marvel to Lily. They symbolize a life that doesn't need to justify itself, echoing Lily's own contentment with being unremarkable. The gladiolus, a sword that is “totally ineffectual,” reinforces the idea that beauty and existence need no practical function.
Aging and bodily familiarity – Lily's reflection on her body—changed but more familiar than in puberty—highlights a theme of growing into oneself. The fiftieth birthday hangover is “difficult, almost delicious,” suggesting an embrace of physical experience.
Freedom from expectation in middle age – Lily notes that nobody expects anything remarkable from a woman her age, and she never wanted to be remarkable. This freedom contrasts with the pressure she felt as a young person, and it aligns with the flowers' purposeless existence.
Connection through difference rather than sameness – Lily explicitly revises her earlier belief. She now sees that friendship and connection are enriched by differences, not diminished by them. This is a key thematic shift in her worldview.
Mother-child love as overwhelming – Lily wonders if love between a mother and child can be anything less than completely overwhelming. This theme ties her own experience as a mother to her unresolved feelings about her own mother.
Mortality and hospice care – Lily's volunteer work at the hospice center brings her face-to-face with death, prompting thoughts of her mother's possible age and survival.
Immigrant displacement and lost homeland – Lily imagines an alternate life in Beijing had her parents never fled. This hints at the immigrant experience of loss and the roads not taken.
Mother's survival revealed – The chapter ends with the revelation that Lily's mother is alive, a major plot twist that recontextualizes Lily's past and her relationship with Nick.
Why This Chapter Matters
This chapter is a turning point in Lily's narrative. It establishes her settled, contented life—small, rich, and entirely hers—only to upend it with a single phone call. The revelation that her mother is alive forces Lily to confront the lie she told Nick and the uncertainty she confessed. It also reopens questions about her past, including her relationship with Matthew and her parents' flight from China. The chapter's themes of connection, expectation, and mother-child love are crystallized in this moment, making it essential for understanding Lily's character and the novel's larger exploration of family, identity, and the choices that shape us.
Study Questions and Answers
1. How does Lily's view of connection change over the course of the chapter?
Lily initially believed that connection meant sameness, consensus, and harmony—having everything in common. By the time of this chapter, she has come to understand the opposite: connection is more valuable because of differences. She now appreciates another person in their particularity, rather than requiring them to be like her. This shift reflects her maturity and her acceptance of her own unremarkable, yet rich, life.
2. What does the garden symbolize for Lily, and how does it relate to her life?
The garden, with its flowers that are “useless” and “ineffectual,” symbolizes beauty and existence without purpose. Lily tends it while others ignore it, and she marvels at the flowers' brilliant existence without asking “What for?” This mirrors her own contentment with a life that is small and unremarkable, yet rich and entirely hers. The flowers' lack of practical function parallels her freedom from expectation in middle age.
3. Why is Nick's revelation about Lily's mother significant for Lily's character?
Nick's revelation that Lily's mother is alive is significant because it shatters the settled narrative Lily has constructed. She had told Nick his grandmother was dead, then later confessed she didn't know for sure. The news forces her to confront her unresolved feelings about her mother, her parenting choices, and the overwhelming nature of mother-child love. It also reopens questions about her past, including her parents' flight from China and the alternate lives she imagined. This revelation is a catalyst for potential change in Lily's story.
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