Madame stroked her hand. “You have a strong interest in the spiritual.”
“Yes, I do! I had four miscarriages before Samantha—that’s my daughter—”
“I saw a name beginning in S.”
“That’s her—yes. Before Samantha, I lost four babies. No conventional doctors could do a thing to help me. I was so afraid. I was ready to try anything. But I’m afraid I hurt my little girl.”
“Perhaps the fact that she was born at all is because you chose a different path during that pregnancy.”
“I’ve wondered about that.” Frannie hesitated, a knot of emotion still hurting her throat. “But my husband has never forgiven me for what happened. Oh, Madame, every month that goes by without Samantha saying a word is … my husband doesn’t say so out loud, but I know he blames me more and more. I’ve got to find out what’s wrong with her.”
“Is she a nervous child?”
“Oh, no, she’s just the opposite. She’s so calm and, well, sort of dignified. She’s an old woman! Sometimes I think she blames me too, for putting her through a hard labor.”
“The child is under pressure. She senses all the anger and fear around her.” Madame cupped Frannie’s hand in both of hers and shut her eyes. “You are blocking her spirit. You are unhappy. How long have you lived in Germany?”
“Seven years.”
“Homesickness,” Madame proclaimed.
Frannie chewed her lower lip. “I haven’t seen any of my family in all that time. I have a sister—”
“I see her. Blond, yes?” Madame opened one eye and peeped at Frannie. “Like you.”
“Yes! We write to each other, but we don’t have much in common. She’s rich, Madame. Money and prestige mean everything to her. I’m just the opposite. There were bad feelings between us when I left home.”
“Ah! You must go home and resolve this. You envy your sister, but you don’t know it.”
“Envy Alexandra? I don’t think so.”
“Alexandra. Hmmm. I knew her name began with an A. She is …” Madame squinted at her. “Older.”
“Yes. Four years older.”
“Pride is your mistake. Go to your sister. Take your daughter. Clear away the bad feelings. Ask your sister to pay for specialists to perform medical tests on Samantha.”
“No, no, I could never do that. I don’t want my sister’s money. My husband and I agreed a long time ago not to accept any help from my family. I—”
“Pride,” Madame repeated, waving a thin finger. “Pride keeps your daughter from speaking.”
“What?” Frannie said, frowning at her.
“Pride. Like yours. Go home. Set a good example.” Madame placed Frannie’s hand on the table, then leaned back. “That will be five dollars, please.”
Frannie’s thoughts whirled. She hadn’t had time to mull over everything Madame Maria had said, but the woman seemed so confident. Madame had, after all, divined Samantha and Alexandra’s names, the color of Alexandra’s hair, and the fact that Alexandra was an older sister. No one could convince Frannie that psychics weren’t legitimate. She was so desperate for guidance, for ways to protect the daughter she’d birthed after so many disappointments, and to salvage Carl’s respect for her.
She paid Madame Maria and nodded vigorously. “You’re amazing. Thank you. I’ll do exactly what you suggested.”
She was going home to visit Alexandra. She would humble herself.
Alexandra walked quickly out of the house. William was pitching a softball to Tim on the back lawn, where the grass was just beginning to turn green for spring. Her thoughts distracted, she noted wearily that Tim, at six, was chubby and awkward and had no discernible potential for sports. That galled her—she, who had been riding a pony over jumps by the time she was his age, she, who played tennis and golf with expert skill. She had birthed this clumsy little dumpling who started crying as William’s slow, underhanded pitch bounced off the tips of his splayed fingers.
“It’s all right,” William said quickly, striding over to him with the thick, ponderous movements Tim had inherited, and lifting the boy into his arms. Tim sniffled loudly. William patted his back and coddled him, which set Alexandra’s teeth on edge.
She announced loudly, “Frannie called. She’s coming home. I invited her to stay with us.”
William turned and stared at her. It had been seven years since Frannie ran away with Carl Ryder, with never any hint that she’d ever come back. “Is anything wrong?”
“Samantha still isn’t talking. Frannie asked me to loan her the money for more tests. I’m arranging them with the medical center at the university. The best specialists I can find. Those army doctors are cheap quacks. There are no retarded children in my family. Samantha isn’t going to be the first.” Alexandra hesitated, frowning. “Who knows what the child had bred into her from Carl Ryder’s people?”
“Don’t talk about her as if she ought to be dropped from the breeding registry, dear. She’s not a horse.”
“People are no different from horses. If you breed carelessly, you get weak traits.” Alexandra glanced at their son, then looked away quickly. “Put him down, William. He’s not a baby. He’s six years old, and you’re encouraging him to whine at the drop of a hat.”
William set their son down slowly, ruffled his pale red hair, and told him to go wash up for dinner. When the boy was safely out of earshot, William straightened and looked at her with the hangdog resignation she’d come to despise. “He needs brothers and sisters to look after. If I pamper him, it’s because he’s an only child.”
“If you wanted a whole brood of chicks, you should have had my uterus checked for cysts before you married me.” She clapped her hands. “Now let’s talk about Frannie. She’ll arrive here in two weeks. We’ll have a dinner to introduce her to Ginger and the gang, and I want to do some redecorating in the two upstairs bedrooms with the shared bath. I’ll move the double bed out of the small room and replace it with a child-size one. Something gorgeous—with a canopy. I’ll buy a pretty little toy chest and fill it with dolls and picture books.”
He advanced toward her, fists clenched. “You changed the subject. You won’t discuss our own shortage of children, but you gleefully make plans for your sister’s child.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. We’ve said it all before. You want more children in the house? Fine. We’ll have Frannie’s little girl.”
“You talk as if you expect to keep her.”
“I do.” Alexandra took a wary step back from him as he halted close to her. She smelled the bourbon that was on his breath constantly. “Her, and Frannie,” Alexandra explained. “I’m going to do my level best to persuade my sister not to go back to Carl. I’ve always suspected that Frannie regrets marrying him but is too proud to say so. If I give her some tactful encouragement, she’ll probably jump at a chance to put the marriage behind her.”
William snatched her by one arm. “I won’t have you conniving to break up Frannie’s marriage and meddle in the upbringing of her little girl. See to the problems in your own household, woman, and if you want a daughter, produce one of your own!”
“I can’t have another child! Stop trying to humiliate me!”
He jerked her arm. “Can’t, or won’t?”
“Let go of me! Tim might be watching from a window!”
“Then let’s get some of your precious privacy.” Alexandra gasped at this sudden and unexpected violence. He nearly dragged her across the lawn to a hidden spot behind tall boxwood hedges, then swung her to face him. “Stop lying to me.” he said. He shook her so hard her head snapped back. “By God, I’ve kept quiet because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings—I didn’t want to make you think I’m blaming you for your inability to become pregnant again. But I know the truth. I talked to your doctor. You don’t have any goddamned cyst.”
“You went behind my back!”
“You’re my wife. I deserve to hear the truth.”
“I can’t give you more c
hildren, and all you can do is humiliate me about that fact by investigating my medical records!”
He shook her again. “Why can’t we have more children? That’s all I want to know. I had tests too. I know there’s nothing wrong with me.” His voice rose. “I’m a … middle-aged drunk, but I’ve got the wherewithal to get my own wife pregnant if she’d give me half a chance!”
“Prove it!” she yelled, shoving at him. “Prove you’re good for something besides boring my friends and drinking yourself into a stupor every night!”
His face flushed crimson. He shoved her to the carefully manicured apron of pine bark behind the hedge and fell on her, jerking at his trouser button. The breath knocked out of her, dizzy with a fear she had never felt before, she fought him. She was dressed in a blue pullover and long, sheer blue skirt to play bridge at a banker’s cottage at the club; William pushed the skirt to her waist and tore at the panty hose she wore over silk panties. Shoving the material aside, he took her, ignoring her groans of fury and pinning her arms over her head.
It was over almost as soon as it began. One halfhearted thrust and he seemed awash in the shame done to his own honor, if not hers. He lay heavily on her, very still, with his head buried on her shoulder. Limp with relief, she stared at the hedges overhead, and tried to breathe.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered raggedly. “Forgive me. I was insane for a few seconds. Please, please, forgive me.”
Alexandra shuddered. Years of helplessness and rage had been summed up in those seconds. But now her head cleared and she forced herself to remember who she was, and how she had always managed her rigidly goal-oriented life, and him. “Let’s forget it happened,” she said. “I’m not going to give you any more children. Accept that. I can’t help it.”
He moved away from her and sat with his shoulders slumped. Alexandra pushed herself upright, straightening her clothes and staring at his hunched back with mixed emotions. She neither loved nor hated him; she felt sorry for him at times, and occasionally even wished she could make him happy. But she was rarely happy or content herself, and she wasn’t about to give him happiness at her own expense.
He was inferior. His son was inferior. Alexandra could not tolerate weak results in her horses or her children. She deserved to raise the best. She had seen pictures of Frannie’s daughter. Despite what she’d said about the Ryder bloodlines, Alexandra thought Samantha was the most perfect child imaginable. A carbon copy of herself. She could be proud of Samantha.
“We do need more children around this place,” she said with a hint of tragedy in her voice. “Please, will you support me in trying to keep Frannie here with Samantha, where we can help them both?”
William lifted his head and gazed at her with dull acceptance. “Do you forgive me?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Then if you have your sister and your niece’s best interests at heart, I won’t say another word.”
“I do. Thank you.” She stroked his sweaty, thinning red hair. He sighed heavily, either relieved or resigned. It didn’t matter. She had what she wanted. As always.
Chapter
Four
Frannie stood in an ice cream shop, staring at a chalkboard behind the tall marble counter, where the gourmet flavor of the week was listed. Chocolate mocha mint. She knew it was absurd, but this meant something. Pandora, which Frannie remembered as a simple and unpretentious town, was now a place that catered to people with a taste for fancy flavors.
Alexandra had written to her over the years about bringing new people with big money into Pandora—had mentioned how eager entrepreneurs had begun “improving” the town to serve the interests of the newcomers. Frannie felt awe mingled with a distinct sense of unease. Her sister had transformed the whole town. Her sister was far more powerful than she’d expected.
You’re here to make peace, she reminded herself. And to be precise, since she was trying very hard to take things one day at a time, without dwelling on Carl’s unhappiness and Samantha’s problem, she was here to buy a pint of vanilla ice cream. Sammie was at Highview with Alexandra, who had captivated her with a truckload of gifts, and the situation made Frannie feel competitive. She could buy her daughter vanilla ice cream, if nothing else.
The cool breeze from the opening of the shop’s door distracted her, and she glanced over her shoulder. Frannie’s mouth dropped open. “Sarah?”
“Frannie?” Sarah Raincrow stood there, frowning mildly at her, head up and green eyes troubled. Seven years had filled out Sarah’s skinny frame, and changing styles had softened her. The severely tamed helmet of red hair Frannie remembered had become a long, dramatic tangle of curls, held back by a twisted blue bandanna. Dressed in tennis shoes, a long print peasant skirt with a white T-shirt tucked into it, Sarah looked about as glamorous as an Earth shoe.
Frannie recognized a kindred spirit, and wished desperately that she and Sarah could be friends. She took a deep breath and went to Sarah with her hands out. “It’s good to see you again.”
For a moment Sarah didn’t budge, and Frannie felt a hot blush creeping from the roots of her straight blond hair down to her leather choker with the cameo at the center. Alexandra never mentioned Sarah or their feud, but Frannie doubted Sarah had ever forgiven her for marrying William and maneuvering the Vanderveer ruby into her possession.
Sarah wavered, appearing torn, then exhaled loudly and took Frannie’s hands. “It’s good to see you too. I thought you’d flown the coop and might never come back. I was sorry your family gave you no choice.” Sarah smiled thinly. “You caused quite a commotion, from what I’ve heard. Running off like that.”
“My parents haven’t spoken to me in all these years. Not a word. Not a letter.”
Sarah’s expression became sympathetic. “But Alexandra has obviously welcomed you home.”
“She’s not as cold-blooded as you think. I’m here for a visit.”
“Well, the fact that she’s smart enough to recognize a good sister when she’s got one is a small vote in her favor, I guess.”
Every word seemed sincere, but grudging. Frannie looked at her wistfully. “You were always so nice to me, despite how you felt about Alexandra. I’m so glad that hasn’t changed.”
“No sense blaming you for your sister’s faults.” When Frannie sighed in dismay, Sarah looked apolgetic. “Sorry. We don’t have to discuss her.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” Frannie answered quickly. “She’s my sister, and I love her, but I know how she can be.”
Sarah drew her to one of the small, delicate tables by a curtained window. They sat facing each other in a pool of bright sunshine. Sarah held her gaze with straight-forward honesty. “I haven’t set foot in Highview since the day William married her and gave her our family’s ruby. My brother and I don’t speak anymore. I have twins—seven years old, a boy and a girl. Hugh and I let them visit Highview to play with Tim, because cousins shouldn’t grow up hating each other. But that’s the only concession I’ll make.”
“Oh, Sarah.”
“Alexandra peddles the land around town to her rich friends. They’re changing everything, which I’m sure you’ve noticed. A lot of our stores have been bought by outsiders. The hardware store is an antique store now. So are the old Farmer’s Seed and Feed, and Miller’s Dress Shop. We can’t buy a cheap meal in town. The diner’s a wine and cheese shop. We can’t buy fabric and thread, or shoes, or work clothes, because all of those shops have become boutiques that sell designer outfits. A retired bank president from New Orleans bought my great-aunt’s old Victorian house and turned it into a bed and breakfast. Local people have very little access to the lake anymore, because most of the shoreline belongs to outsiders who’ve built huge vacation cottages there.”
“But … but with all the growth, there must be a lot of jobs for the locals.”
“Jobs working for the new people,” Sarah said with contempt. “Jobs as maids and salesclerks, or golfing caddies. Folks around here use
d to be pretty self-sufficient. Besides, the jobs don’t pay well enough for them to afford the new taxes. Last year’s property assessments tripled taxes overnight. Families that have owned land here for generations are being forced to sell out. Hugh and I are saving every penny just to pay this year’s taxes on the Cove.”
“But Hugh’s medical practice must be booming—”
“My husband has a major attitude problem.” Sarah’s face softened despite her grim tone of voice, and her eyes shimmered. “He thinks a doctor is supposed to treat any person who needs help, regardless of their ability to pay for it. If it weren’t for Hugh, half the old-timers around town and over at Cawatie couldn’t afford medical care.” Sarah bit her lip. Her face became strained again. “There’s another problem too. The people who have been here all their lives sure have their prejudices, and they gossiped up a storm when I married Hugh, but most of them have a little Cherokee blood somewhere in their family trees, and they respect the Indians. They respect Hugh.” She shook her head disgustedly. “Most of the newcomers can’t seem to get past the idea that a man who’s part Indian couldn’t possibly be as good a physician as their lily-white selves deserve. They go to the two white doctors Hugh works with at the hospital.”
She paused, gazing out the window blindly, contempt drawing her mouth into a grimace. “All these so-called sophisticated people, coming up here from big cities all over the South. You’d think they’d be smarter.” Her harsh eyes met Frannie’s agonized ones again. “I never knew how much ignorance there was in the world until Alexandra invited it to this town.”
Frannie knuckled her hands under her chin and bowed her head. “I’m sure Alexandra doesn’t realize that she’s ruining a lot of what made this place so special. She’s so proud of the town. She’s told me so.”
Sarah leaned toward her and said evenly, “She’s alienated my brother from all his old friends. He’s miserable, and he drinks too much. From what I’m able to find out, the only time he’s not stewed is when he’s in court. He’s so withdrawn and defensive that I can’t get through to him to help him. I tried to talk to him a couple of years ago. I told him my bitterness about the ruby was a symbol of the real problem: I wanted him to take control of his life again.” Sarah swallowed roughly. “He said, ‘Alexandra is my life.’ ”