“I know it’s impossible to imagine, but...what?”
“I almost believe you,” Mary said again. “Your eyes are different They’re the same shape, the same color, but there’s someone else looking out of them. I’m guessing this is probably a dream, but I’ll go along with it for now. What do you need from me?”
“Thank God,” Susan breathed. “I need you to help cover for me. I only know the barest details of Tallulah’s life and family. My mother...er, you... never talked much about her, or the family.”
“You never met Tallulah? Why?”
Susan didn’t want to tell her the truth. That Tallulah Abbott died on her wedding day, fifty years ago, three days from now. “She died young,” she said evasively.
“How young?”
“I don’t think you really want to know the future, do you? Besides, this is a dream. Personally I think it’s my dream, not yours, but that doesn’t matter. Sooner or later we’ll both wake up and be back where we belong, and you don’t need unhappy memories?—”
“You die,” Mary said flatly.
“No.”
“All right, Tallulah dies,” she corrected herself impatiently. “When?”
“I don’t think?—”
“If you want my help you’ll have to tell me, or I’ll go back downstairs and leave you to fend for yourself,” Mary said in her mature little voice.
Susan took a deep breath. Mary had always been a stubborn soul, and she had no doubt she meant what she said. “Three days from now,” she said finally. “On her wedding day.”
Mary took a deep, shuddering breath. “No,” she protested.
Susan reached out a hand to touch her. “Well, I think it would be clear why I’m here. I’m supposed to stop it. Stop Tallulah from dying.”
“You’re right You shouldn’t be marrying Neddie, anyway, and we both know it You’ll have to call it off. If Lou doesn’t get married, then the future will have to change.”
“Maybe. It’s the best I can come up with on short notice.”
“You’d better come down to dinner,” Mary said. “The sooner you face them all the easier it will be. You can say you’ve got a headache. You haven’t been very talkative in the past few weeks, anyway, so no one will probably notice if you just sit there.”
“And then what?”
“And then maybe we’ll both wake up. And Lou will be back and everything will be all right.”
“You’re only nine, but I bet you know that doesn’t happen,” Susan said.
“Lou isn’t going to die,” Mary said fiercely.
“That’s a promise,” Susan said.
The shoes were horrible. High-stacked heels, when Susan hadn’t worn anything but flats and running shoes for the past ten years. Her ankles almost collapsed as she made her way down the wide, winding staircase of the old Abbott mansion, but Mary was beside her, providing physical and moral support.
She’d seen photographs of the old house, and her mother had occasionally told her stories of it, but it still was far from what she imagined. She’d pictured something out of an old Cary Grant movie, but this place was in color, slightly shabby, as if there hadn’t been enough money for new slipcovers or carpets in the past few years. The war hadn’t been over for that long, Susan reminded herself. Maybe there was still a shortage of goods, even for wealthy people like the Abbotts of Connecticut.
The elderly man standing at the makeshift bar glared at her as she entered the room. “It’s about time,” he said. “You’re too late for cocktails, but then, your mother’s made up for it The others are out on the patio—we’ll go in for dinner now.”
She stared at the querulous old man. He had to be her grandfather, Mary and Tallulah’s father, the esteemed-Ridley Abbott He looked like an old man, and yet he couldn’t be much older than fifty.
“Why don’t I see if I can help serve?” she suggested.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We have servants to take care of such things. Go find your mother and your fiancé and tell them you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.” He whirled on Mary. “What are you staring at?”
“Nothing,” Mary said in her admirably calm voice. “Lou and I will go call the others.”
