There was no sign of Mary anywhere about The piece of paper was burning a hole in her pocket, but Hattie was watching her out of the kitchen window, and there was no way Susan would admit her curiosity. Particularly if she didn’t like what the note had to say. She didn’t want to cry in front of anyone.
Though heaven knows, if she were to cry in front of anyone it would be Hattie. She knew instinctively that Hattie was the best mother she had, full of comfort and common sense. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to be mothered.
Speaking of which, she had to find her real mother. The preadolescent one, who was somewhere out in the sprawling, landscaped back gardens.
She called her name, not too loudly so as not to wake the sleeping dragons upstairs, but there was no answer. She followed the path, her feet bare on the dew-damp grass, heading for the huge old maple tree at the edge of the forest, heading there instinctively. There was a marble bench beneath it, a place where Lou would sit for hours, reading, dreaming. She didn’t wonder how she knew things like that—by now it had all become second nature to her.
She sat down, pulling the piece of paper out of her pocket and folding it open. It didn’t say much.
“Lizzie B. 37th and 12th. 3:30 p.m., June 10th, 1949.”
As a farewell letter it was a little too cryptic for her tastes. Who was Lizzie B., and what was he doing with her at three-thirty this afternoon, presumably in New York City?
Maybe he’d left the wrong note. Maybe this was a reminder for himself, and his terse farewell note was still stuck in his pocket Or maybe it was a flowery note of farewell. And maybe pigs could fly.
She leaned back against the thick trunk of the maple, shutting her eyes as she crumpled the note in her hand. She took a deep, steadying breath, surprised to hear how ragged it sounded.
“You aren’t going to many him, are you?” Mary’s voice floated down from the tree above her head.
It took all Susan’s self-restraint not to jump. “He never asked me,” she said, not bothering to disguise her mournful tone. “Not really.”
Mary swung down put of the tree, landing in the dirt beside her. “I’m not talking about Jack,” she said irritably. “I’m talking about Neddie. Don’t do it for my sake, Lou. I know something’s going on, I don’t know what it is, but Elda and Father are up to something and it’s probably something bad. Don’t marry Neddie if you don’t want to.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to? He’s rich and handsome and he adores me.”
“He’s not as cute as Jack and we both know it, and he doesn’t adore anyone but himself.”
“He’s still rich,” she said wryly.
“And you’ve never cared one bit about money. Have they threatened you with something?”
Mary was smarter than any nine-year-old had a right to be. “I don’t mind, Mary,” she said, the name sounding both familiar and odd. “It’s not like there’s anyone else I want to many, or would be likely to. If I marry Neddie then everyone will be taken care of.”
“I don’t want you to marry him.”
“It’s not as if I have any choice.”
“Do you still think you’re not the real Lou? Because if you’re not, you must be here for a reason, and I’m willing to bet that reason wasn’t to many someone like Neddie Marsden.”
“I don’t know who I am anymore,” she said, shoving the crumpled piece of paper back in her pocket. “It doesn’t seem like I really have a choice.” Jack was gone, leaving nothing more than a cryptic name, and she was hardly likely to go after a man who’d never said he loved her, and was already meeting another woman.
“You always have a choice. Haven’t you and Hattie taught me that?” Mary said.
Susan looked up at the house. There were already signs of feverish activity. The mess from the rehearsal dinner had already been cleared away, but there were trucks pulling up the wide, winding driveway, more catering trucks, flower trucks. “I don’t know, Mary,” she said. “Do we always have a choice?” She could see Elda and Ridley advancing on her from the house, looking like the front guard of an invading army. They certainly weren’t going to allow her to have any choice in the matter. If she didn’t watch it they’d strip her, bathe and present her to Neddie on a silver platter in exchange for?—
For what? Money? Power? Some kind of amnesty? If she knew exactly what kind of deal had been struck, maybe there’d be a way out of it But she was running out of time.
“The hairdresser’s already here!” Elda hissed in rage. “What in God’s name are you doing out here, when there’s so much to do? And in those clothes! I couldn’t believe it when I saw you out here. Even Hattie had no idea where you’d disappeared to!”
Hattie had known exactly where she was, but she’d covered for her, bless her heart. “What do I have to do this morning?” Susan countered mildly enough. “I have to be dressed and made beautiful, transported to the church and say ‘I do.’ It doesn’t sound too onerous.”
Elda’s lip curled in disgust She hadn’t left the house without her makeup, but in her haste her orangey lipstick was slightly askew, giving her a faintly clownlike appearance. “As long as you cooperate there shouldn’t be any problem. And you do intend to cooperate, don’t you, Tallulah? You’ll be a good, dutiful daughter.”
Susan looked at Ridley, wondering if he’d evince even a shred of guilt He avoided her gaze, looking at Mary with a faint expression of displeasure. “You need to get changed, as well, missy,” he said sternly. “You’re a junior bridesmaid, and you haven’t got your sister’s physical blessings to help you. It’s going to take more of an effort to turn you into a silk purse.”
Mary didn’t even blink, for all the world as if she weren’t an adolescent hovering on the brink of womanhood, easily shattered by a father’s thoughtless words. “Don’t worry. Father,” she said in her cool, precocious voice. “I’m an Abbott I’ll rise to the occasion.”
Her faintly cynical tone swept right past him. “That’s right,” he said, not bothering to disguise his relief. “You’re both Abbotts. Blood will tell, in the end. You both know your duty, and I expect you to do it with no shirking.”
