Wicked Forest

  "What is it that you do exactly?" I pursued. Did they actually have some sort of spy network, hire detectives, follow husbands? Bug rooms?

  "When we learn of a betrayal or a potential betrayal, we make sure we inform our sister, and then we help or do what we can to give her the facts she needs.' Liana replied.

  "In short, we do whatever is necessary to accomplish the goal," Manon said.

  "I'm sure Thatcher will have you sign some sort of prenuptial agreement," Marjorie said. "Especially since he is an attorney."

  "Marjorie's husband tried to pin an infidelity on her to keep her from her fair share of their estate," Sharon said.

  "But we had him dead to rights, and she was able to turn the tables on him and hold him to the fire instead." Manon explained. "Now, you and Thatcher will socialize and get to know people here that we don't. perhaps. You'll bring another area under the radar for us, and in return, we'll share whatever we have with you."

  "Why me?" I asked, still astounded. "What made you decide to ask me?"

  They glanced at each other.

  "We've known Thatcher Eaton longer than you have. Willow," Manon said.

  "You're younger than any of us were when we got married," Sharon said.

  'And like I said, it's a two-way street. You have something to bring to the table. too. Thatcher has done some work for my husband,' Manon added. 'Sharon is dating Franklin Bradley, and he is an attorney, too. She might very well be soon thinking of marrying him."

  "What do you think?" Liana asked.

  "I don't know what to say. I confess I thought this was just going to be a Palm Beach lunch, social chitchat, amusing, but..."

  "Aren't you happy that we are all more substantial than that?" Manon said. smiling. "We're modern women, and since you're going to be a career woman, a professional, we thought you would appreciate it."

  "Let's face it," Marjorie said. "relationships between men and women today are more of a battleground than ever, considering all the legal ramifications, the opportunities for betrayals and deceit.'

  "We have to stick together," Sharon pleaded.

  "Just because you are in Palm Beach doesn't mean you have any more guarantee of a successful relationship and life than other women in other places," Liana said.

  "In fact, maybe far less because of being here," Marjorie insisted.

  They all nodded.

  "Let's have our lunch." Manon declared. "and let poor Willow think about it all."

  "Just think of this." Marjorie said, drawing closer to me. "If your grandmother had had friends like us and an organization like we have, do you think Kirby Scott would have been able to do all the destruction he did to your family? We would have been there for her, and we would have helped her prevent what followed."

  "In the end, we have to stick together." Sharon said. "No matter how wonderful it seems at the moment, or how many bells you hear ringing, the day will come when you will hear more echoes than actual voices, and if you have to hold a marriage together on the basis of merely good memories--"

  "You're like a bird who has lost all her feathers," Manon finished, "You sink into the sea.*

  Everyone nodded, each woman's eyes dark. It all made me feel very sad.

  "Daddy!" Manon cried suddenly. "Come and meet our newest Palm Beach resident. Willow De Beers, Thatcher Eaton's fiancee."

  The announcement brought the room to silence again as Henri Florette, a distinguished-looking, handsome man in a blue sports jacket that picked up the blue in his eyes, came toward our table.

  "Enchante," he said, reaching for my hand. "Welcome to Club Florette and to our little

  community." He turned to Manon,

  "She is as beautiful as they described. Mais oui, cherie?"

  Yes, Daddy."

  "Please, give my congratulations to Thatcher and tell him for me, he is a very lucky man." he said to me, then to all of us, "Enjoy." He moved on, visiting the members at each and every table, working the room with his charm like someone who could sell happiness in a bottle.

  The waiter returned to our table and the conversation turned to food, but the real reason they had invited me never left my mind while I was there, nor for some time afterward. On one hand. I thought of it as a deceit, doing something very sneaky behind Thatcher's back, and that wasn't the way to begin a marriage and a life together: but on the other hand, their logic and their purpose was appealing.

  I promised them to give it all serious thought, but even that promise made me feel guilty. Life was only simple for the blind and the deaf because they saw no evil and heard no evil. They lived in a state of trust. They never knew when they were being betrayed or laughed at and mocked. But they never saw the sunset and they never heard the songs of birds and that was too high a price to pay, especially for happiness that was totally dependent on the kindness and charity of others.

  I told myself that perhaps I could join the Club d'Amour as part of my psychological research. It could become very valuable to me later on in my studies. It sounded like a great reason, but it also had the hollow ring of rationalization. After all, I didn't want to admit to them and especially to myself that I had any doubts about Thatcher. How could I do that and still love him?

  Or was it impossible to love anyone that completely?

  On my way home, I could hear Daddy step into the room of my thoughts.

  Can you live with someone and or love him that completely? he asked.

  I don't know. I haven't any way of knowing yet. It's all too soon and happening too fast. But you did. Daddy, didn't you?

  You were there, Willow You tell Me. Was I happy?

  I don't think so. But later, with my mother, you were. Did you have that complete trust?

  You know a great deal about it How What do you think? I think you did. and I think she did, too.

  Even if that is so, that was us. I've taught you that everyone is different. One size doesn't fit all, Willow.

  But you provided something, a goal to which I should aspire, didn't you? You were perfect.

  No one is perfect, Willow. Remember that.

  Then love can't be perfect.

  Does it have to be? Maybe real love is knowing its imperfect but still going on, still pursuing and supporting it with all your heart.

  You're talking about forgiving.

  You're trying to get Linden to see that, aren't you? You know you can't have love without it.

  Yes.

  Should you hold up a mirror for someone else to look into if you are afraid to look into it as well, Should you ask him to accept a world you can't or won't accept?

  No. Daddy.

  Then you have your answer, Willow, Don't you? Maybe. I don't know.

  I could see Daddy smiling.

  You will know when you do, Willow. You will know.

  10

  Advice from the Palm Beach Women .

  I began to think that Linden had forgotten about

  his request and my promise to pose again far him so he could do a portrait to present to Thatcher and me as a wedding present. Perhaps he saw how busy I was attending college and attending to the wedding plans, as well as socializing with Thatcher, meeting more and more of his friends and associates. Feeling guilty about not spending more time with Linden. I approached him to suggest he and I go looking for his tuxedo soon. That was when he reminded me about the portrait. He decided it would be the first project he would attempt as soon as he had his new studio ready.

  In the meantime. Whitney scheduled my bridal shower at her home just a week before the Eatons were to move from Java del Mar. Of course. Bunny complained at every opportunity, moaning and groaning about all the pressures Thatcher and I had put on her and Asher by insisting on getting married so soon.

  "Some people here think you're pregnant." she managed to insert one day.

  "They'll be quite disappointed." I told her. I could see she was one of those people.

  My denial didn't slow her down. I began to see the rear loggia m
ore as a theatrical balcony from which she could rant and rave, throw up her arms, and sigh deeply to any audience she managed to trap. As if she wanted the entire Palm Beach social community to witness her travails, she had a constant parade of afternoon tea guests, by no means the least of whom were the infamous Carriage sisters, who were probably as capable as UPI or AP in spreading news around the world.

  Thatcher had a great tolerance for his mother's histrionics. I noticed that he favored referring to her as Bunny in front of people rather than as Mother. I imagined that in his mind's eye, he really did see her as a character in a play and therefore tried to avoid taking anything she did or said very seriously. He was adept at handling her, humoring her, placating her, even more so than his father, who at times seemed like an outsider, a guest in his own marriage, willing to leave the handling of Bunny. as I thought of it, to his son and his daughter. I couldn't decide who was more self-centered. Asher or Bunny.

  There was so much to think about. It was nice to have someone with whom I was comfortable enough to discuss much of this. and Professor Fuentes turned out to be that person. From time to time he and I had one-on-one sessions, as he did with all his students, but somehow mine ran longer and occurred more frequently. I grew to like him increasingly, and found myself revealing more and more of my personal life to him. He laughingly accused me of using him as my personal therapist. I smiled, but thought. -maybe it was true.

  "Not that I would shy away from it in the least." he told me when he saw my smile harden with the realization, "I would love to be of any assistance to you. Willow."

  I described my future in-laws to him, and we began to discuss Thatcher's attitude toward his parents.

  "He sounds like a very wise man who long ago, probably in his youth, arrived at a certain acceptance. He balances it all quite well, from what you tell me, never denying who and what they are, but yet handling them with love and respect. He was born to be a lawyer, I'd say, a good one, I'm sure. He knows how to arrive at a good compromise.

  "Remember that old saving." he added with a smile, "you can choose your friends but not your relatives."

  "I can choose by marrying or not marrying."

  "From what you have told me and from the glow in your face these days. I'd say you've lost that option. Willow."

  I laughed.

  "Maybe so. Professor."

  "It's a nice wind that carries us off to such a blissful journey. I look forward to being so swept away myself" he said. He gazed at me for a split second or so longer than I expected, and just as unexpectedly, I found my heart tripping and my face growing warm.

  Can you see the affection and warmth someone has for you in his eyes? Can you fathom holy deep ft es, arid does it frighten you or does it excite you and stir up places in your own heart that you have reserved for someone else? I wondered.

  Sometimes. I thought, it was better to leave some questions unanswered, leave some doors unopened. Too much light could also blind you.

  I never mentioned to Thatcher my tete-a-tetes with Professor Fuentes, except to tell him I had a teacher's conference occasionally. He was happy I was enjoying school and kidded me about eventually earning more money than he did and supporting him like some Palm Beach walker.

  "I'll be a kept man."

  "Could you be satisfied doing nothing but play?" I asked.

  "I'd like to be given the challenge." he replied, and laughed when I tilted my head and looked at him curiously. "No,' he added quickly, "I enjoy my work more than most people enjoy their play. Don't worry about that."

  This was during one of the frequent times we spent at what was now our romantic nest, the beach house.

  "I'm beginning to wonder if this friend of yours even exists.

  Thatcher. When does he plan on using this place?" I asked him one night.

  "Whenever he does," he replied. "he'll let me know well in advance."

  "Will he be at our wedding?"

  "Of course. Do you know anyone who won't?" he countered, and we laughed.

  How happy these days were for me, enjoying college, enjoying Mother's newfound happiness and Linden getting stronger and stronger. Not a day went by that he didn't have some new idea about the main house, things we should do, especially to eradicate any trace of Bunny and Asher's presence.

  "I must confess to you," Mother told me as we started out for Whitney's home on the day of my shower. "I had grave doubts that we would get this far. For weeks and months. I've anticipated a phone call that would tell us it was all off. even the move back into the main house. I was afraid to hope, to believe. You have brought us such joy. Willow. I am so grateful to your father for having the courage to tell you the truth and in his own way to send you to me. What a gift of love he made."

  "To both of us. Mother," I said. To both of us."

  We pulled up to the gates of Whitney's estate. The twenty-foot hedges blocked any view of the interior and the gates themselves seemed to rise into the clouds. Someone must have been watching on a video security system because we were stopped only a few seconds before the gates, as if by magic, began to open.

  "I wonder if the president of the United States is as well protected," I muttered,

  Whitney's husband. Hans Shugar, was truly a trust baby, inheriting the Shugar detergent fortune. It was a German company that sold its products throughout Europe and the Far East. Whitney, Hans, and their children lived on El Vedado, one of Palm Beach's three Els, three streets that ran parallel from South Ocean Boulevard to Lake Worth-- the neighborhood for the bluest of the blue bloods. Thatcher told me Hans had bought a mansion for four million and ripped it down to build their Georgian estate.

  I already knew that it had more than thirty rooms and stood on twice the acreage of Jaya del Mar. but I wasn't prepared for the immensity of the property, the gardens and mazes, the walkways and palm trees that lined the property like sentinels. It looked more like a palace. No wonder that they feel so superior to everyone else, I thought. She must fantasize daily that she is indeed a princess ruling over some principality.

  There were at least two dozen luxury

  automobiles parked in front, as well as two limousines with their drivers chatting.

  "The yearly upkeep for this estate is probably close to the GNP of most third-world countries," I muttered as we parked.

  "When Jackie Lee and I first came to Palm Beach, we were invited to parties in homes similar to this because of my mother's involvement with Winston, Jackie Lee used to say, 'Close your eyes, Grace, and pretend you're Alice dropping into Wonderland. The trick is never to show them just how impressed you are. Keep your eyes from getting too big, and never put an exclamation point at the end of any sentence while you're here.' "

  "It was good advice," I said.

  "Let's follow it. then," Mother declared, and although I saw she was trembling a little, having to submerge herself into the pool of high society after so many years estranged from it all, she managed a smile and walked with her head high as we were greeted by Whitney's daughter. Laurel.

  "Please come in," she said, stepping back. "My mother and her guests are waiting for you." She made it sound like a reprimand for tardiness. She had Whitney's way of turning her eyes into critical orbs of cold gray and pursing her lips in a stern expression of disapproval.

  "Hello, Laurel." Mother said, smiling at her. "It's been a while since I've seen you You've grown so tall."

  "It's not necessarily bad for a woman to be tall." she retorted. "My mother is tall."

  "No, it's not bad at all," Mother said, holding on to her pleasant tone and smile. There was something in Laurel that stirred some memories. I thought, memories of herself, perhaps. although I couldn't see how.

  Nevertheless, Laurel appeared to warm a bit under Mother's glow.

  "Normally, our butler would greet you, but my mother thought it would be nicer for me to greet the guests," she explained.

  "It is," I said.

  She looked like she wanted to smile, but
had been told not to smile too much, which she took to mean not to smile at all,

  "I know that everyone else is here. All the other guests have already arrived."

  "That's good," I said. "Then we've timed it just right." She turned her head stiffly toward me.

  "You're going to be my aunt," she declared, "Do you want me to call you Aunt Willow or just Willow?'

  "Whatever you wish," I said.

  "I like just Willow."

  "Then just Willow it is."

  "Please follow me, Willow," she said, and pivoted like a military parade guard, her posture perfect but as stiff as someone with an imaginary book balanced on her head.

  Mother and I smiled at each other and walked behind her.

  She led us through the wide and long entryway, down the marble hall to a grand room almost as large as some palace ballroom. The guests were all sipping champagne and plucking hors d'oeuvres from silver trays offered by three waitresses. Two waiters kept everyone's champagne glasses filled.

  The guest of honor has arrived!" Whitney cried, and the crowd of at least two dozen or so women stopped talking and turned our way. I saw that everyone from Manon Florette's Club d'Amour was present. Bunny. the Carriage sisters, and some other women I had seen at Jaya del Mar from time to time were seated on the baroque-style settees, each woman looking more wrapped up in her jewelry than the next.

  Someone began to applaud, and then they all joined in. Whitney crossed the room quickly to greet us.

  "Thank you, Laurel," she told her daughter, "You're free to do what you wish now."

  "Can't I stay. too?"

  "No," Whitney said sharply, then smiled at my mother. "How nice to see you someplace else than the back of Joya del Mar. Grace, and you look so pretty, too. What a nice dress."

  "Thank you, Whitney," Mother said. Her lips trembled a bit, but she held her smile. I squeezed her arm gently.

  "Let me get you two some champagne." She turned and with a simple glance started the closest waiter in our direction. We took our glasses.

  "The first toast of the day," Whitney cried, and everyone raised her glass. "To my brother's bride-tobe. Welcome to the looniest family in Palm Beach.'