Willow

  He smiled. "Avoiding the answer, huh? You're just as afraid of becoming involved with someone as I am. That's what I like about you." he added before I could offer any denial.

  "Why?"

  "Too many women around here are too eager. It's not a challenge,"

  "I don't see myself as a trophy. Thatcher."

  "I don't mean you are I have this old-fashioned idea that anything good, really good, should not be easy to achieve or possess. Too much is taken for granted, especially here," he said. "As you can imagine from the way my parents live, instant gratification is the mle, not the exception. I grew up getting whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. So did my sister--she still does. actually."

  "Then how did you get this new, wiser perspective on life?" I asked.

  He shrugged, "Just lucky. I suppose."

  He rose and took off his shirt before he sprawled on the deck, a wide, silly grin on his face. The rocking of the boat, the wine rushing through my blood, and the warm sea air continued to enchant me. I rose to sit beside him. We could hear the terns calling to each other over the water and the low murmur of boat engines in the distance. The clouds were gliding toward the horizon,

  "My mother's right. I work too hard," he muttered, and then looked up at me. "Let me know whoever it is who sent you here." he said. "I'd like to thank him or her personally."

  During all the time I had been with Allan, I had never felt such need as I did this moment when my eyes locked on Thatcher's. The air between us seemed to crackle with electricity, drawing our lips closer and closer until I was leaning over him and kissing him. He did not embrace me. He made mc press myself to him as if he wanted me to commit my body and passion first. I don't know if I could have resisted or should have resisted the clamoring within me. but I didn't. I kissed him again, and he put his arm around my waist and brought me down beside him.

  "You know," I said, teasing him with my lips, kissing the tip of his nose, his cheek, and just below his lips, "you're keeping me from my project."

  "Really? I thought I -was your project." he teased back, and then kissed me long and hard. "Did you ever make love on a boat?" he whispered.

  "What do you think?"

  He laughed and lifted me into his arms. "I don't see how you can write a paper on Palm Beach society without making love on a boat," he said.

  I didn't offer any resistance. Slowly, carefully, he carried me below to the master stateroom. Seconds later, we were naked and in the throes of lovemaking even more passionate than the evening before. Every once in a while. I heard the voice of caution within me, questioning me, demanding to know what I was doing, how I had managed to get so close and involved with another man so quickly. Was it madness or love? Was it out of some desperate need to find someone so I wouldn't be alone? Was I too vulnerable, or had the good fates smiled down on me and brought me someone very special, someone who would truly love me as much as, if not more than. I would love him?

  Afterward, we napped in each other's arms for nearly half an hour. He woke me with a kiss.

  "We had better start back," he said. "I don't want to owe my client any more time. He's the sort who will take advantage."

  I dressed quickly, and we cruised at a far slower, gentler pace back to the dock at Java del Mar, When I stepped off the boat, I felt as if I had returned to earth from some fantasy journey.

  "I'll be home about six,'" he said. "Don't let Bunny talk you into doing anything outrageous tonight"

  "Okay," I said. laughing.

  I watched him speed off. slapping the waves and flying into the distance like some fairy-tale prince returning to the pages of a storybook and leaving me wondering if I had dreamed it all,

  When I turned to head back to the house. I saw Linden watching me from the front of the beach house. I started to wave to him, when he turned away abruptly and went inside. It was like a cold slap on my face.

  This was going to be hard, I thought, This was going to be very hard.

  11

  The Ladies of Palm Beach

  .

  "Darling, I'm so happy you made the right

  decision." Bunny cried as she came down the stairs and saw me in the great room. "Have you had lunch yet?"

  "Yes." It was nearly four o'clock, and she was just thinking of lunch?

  "Oh, poo. I'm sorry I wasn't down in time for you. I hate eating alone, don't you?"

  I was about to tell her I hadn't eaten alone but thought maybe it was better I didn't. I just thought Thatcher would feel more comfortable if his mother didn't know our comings and goings.

  "These days, I'm a golf widow. You know how they call some women football widows during the football season? Well, when Asher gets into his golf game. I had better find things to occupy myself and friends to join me. or I'll be staring at the walls waiting for him to remember he has a wife. At least I'm grateful he's not Michael Strentchild. Do you know Michael Strentchild?"

  "No," I said.

  "Of course you do. He's the grandson of Strentchild cutlery, the biggest cutlery company in North America. He was divorced recently, a bad divorce, and do you know what he went and did?"

  "What?"

  "He had his wife's face put on all his golf balls just so he could smack at her. Asher claims he's driving the ball yards farther than ever," She laughed. "Put that story down in your book, if you like."

  "I'm not writing a book. Bunny."

  "Well, you know what I mean." she said, waving her hand in the air between us as if she could wave away words and thoughts at will, "Did Jennings take good care of you while I was struggling to get out of bed? Are you set up in your room? Do you have everything you need?"

  "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

  "Thatcher called and laid down the law... absolutely no guests for dinner tonight. I told him that was wasting your time, that you were here specifically to meet significant people, but he was adamant."

  She winked and smiled. "I think he'd like you all to himself I can't say I blame him. Matter of fact. Asher and I have a dinner party tonight at the Carlsons'. I'll have them here one night. Broderick Carlson's father was the CEO of Packard-Willis, probably the biggest trucking firm in North America. I used to say America. but Dolly told me I'm leaving out Canada, and it wasn't accurate to leave out Canada."

  I nodded, trying to look impressed and grateful.

  "Look at your face." she suddenly cried. "Have you been lying on the beach? You're absolutely red.-

  "Oh, am I?"

  -Don't you know how dangerous the sun's rays are, especially for a woman? I must get you right to my vanity table and have you put on some special cream designed to counter the ultraviolet damage. Come along," she insisted, taking my hand and marching us both back to the stairway.

  "But I'm holding you back from eating your lunch." I said.

  "Oh. food. What a nuisance," she declared, and continued to ascend, lecturing about skin and beauty all the way to her room and after. All the while. I kept thinking Linden might not be so wrong in his view of things and people around him. Maybe this is a hollow place.

  "Now, just look at my face.' Bunny said, sitting herself down in front of the vanity mirror. "If you didn't know I was Thatcher's mother, would you be able to predict my age with any real accuracy? Well?" she said. insisting I respond.

  "No," I said. ''I mean. I would never guess you are as old as you are."

  "Exactly. And it's not because I had a cosmetic procedure two years ago. That was just a little thing I did for my eyes. It's my skin, my complexion, that keeps me looking young. See here." she said, opening a jar of skin cream. "This is a special formula from France. It's made up of herbs, a secret recipe. I don't mind paying five hundred dollars a jar for it. It works."

  "Five hundred dollars?"

  "And this," she said. "is a lotion that comes with it. You rub it in every night before you go to sleep."

  "How much was that?"

  "Five hundred, or six. I don't remember. Age is complexion, but it i
s also attitude. You've got to think young to be young." she said.

  "Yes, my mother had similar ideas." I said.

  She did? There, you see? How old does she look?" She died a few years ago in a car accident," I said.

  "Oh, dear. How dreadful for you. Anyway." she said, bouncing out of a dark thought as quickly as it had come on. "she was right-- and looked young right up to the day she died. I bet. Now, sit right here and put this cream on immediately." she ordered, getting up. "We live in the Sunshine State, but we have to avoid the sun. I have some wonderful hats with wide brims for you to wear."

  She opened her closet door, which she had done when she had given me the tour. It was as long and as wide as most people's bedrooms and filled with clothes, shoes, and hats. It had its own sitting area, mirrors, and even a television set.

  "Feel free to borrow anything you want, my dear. In fact, I want you to think of this whole house as your home, too, while you're here. okay?"

  "Thank you."

  "Good. Rub that cream in evenly."

  We heard a gentle ding-dong and then Jennings's voice. "Madam?"

  Bunny went to her intercom and pressed a button, "Yes. Jennings?"

  "Your guests have arrived." he said.

  "Oh. wonderful. Since Isabel has eaten. I was afraid I'd have to nibble on something alone. Tell them we'll be right there." she said, and turned to me. have some people for you to meet. Thatcher said not to invite anyone to dinner, but he didn't say anything about high tea," she declared, and clapped her hands.

  "High tea?"

  "Well, it isn't exactly high tea the way the English think of it. This is more like the high tea at the Empress Hotel on Vancouver Island or

  something-- finger sandwiches, biscuits. The Carriage sisters and I have our tea times once a week like clockwork. They are great gossips. Somehow, they know where to look to find everyone's dirty laundry. Aren't I clever? You'll love these two women. They are core Palm Beach. Their husbands were big developers here. brothers. Two brothers married two sisters. Isn't that a good story?

  "The brothers died two years apart. and I swear. Thelma and Brenda Carriage won't marry again unless they find two brothers who are suitable. Come right down." she concluded breathlessly. "You can get wonderful information from them, I'm sure."

  She hurried out of her bedroom, leaving me gaping stupidly after her, wondering if this whole place wasn't a private mental clinic after all.

  I looked at myself in the mirror and then rubbed in her cream. Five hundred dollars for a four-ounce jar? Maybe it worked, or maybe it was just snake oil for the rich. Every class of society had its con men. Those who preyed on Palm Beach society were probably just better educated, more sophisticated, and better dressed. It didn't hurt if they came with a French or other European accent. either, I supposed.

  Anyway, I had to go downstairs to meet her friends and play the part I had cast myself in for my contrived drama. Soon. I assured my troubled spirit, soon I'd be able to step off the stage and be in the real world, the world of truth. Just for now, just for a little while. I would put on the makeup and the costumes and stand in the lights.

  Bunny held her high tea in the sitting room where I had first met her and Thatcher's father. Asher. When I entered, one of the Carriage sisters was standing up, modeling her outfit as if she were on a fashion runway. She had short platinum hair, very curly in front. Her sister, a dark brunette, also had short hair but straighter and styled so severely it looked like a hat. Even though it was difficult to tell which one was older, they both looked as if they were in their early sixties.

  "Oh. Isabel, you're just in time to see Brenda's fashion show," Bunny said. laughing.

  Both sisters turned to me. Brenda's eves softer. bluer. Thelma's more gray and steely. I thought Brenda had a softer face altogether, although they both had hard, sharp features, thin noses, tight lips that looked like slashes when pressed together, and taut cheeks wrapped so firmly around their facial bones their skin looked absolutely translucent, tissuepaper thin. Thelma's chin was rounder and her neck a bit longer.

  "Thelma. Brenda. this is our houseguest, Isabel Amou."

  "How do you do," Thelma said first. She said it with such clipped pronunciation it almost sounded angry. Brenda laughed and shot forward to extend her hand.

  "Hello," she said, and returned to their conversation as though my entrance, my very existence, was truly insignificant. "Despite what Thelma thinks, this is the rage," she declared.

  "For a teenager, perhaps." Thelma muttered,

  "What do you think, Isabel?" Brenda asked, turning back to me. "It looks comfortable." I said.

  She was wearing a long, light, white tunic-style shirt over a pair of black cropped pants and leather flip-flops. I noticed her toenails were painted a bright silver. Both of the Carriage sisters were full-figured women. Thelma was in a more conservative slenderizing sweater and skirt outfit and did look more her age.

  "Oh, it is comfortable. It's a chic Maharani, the modern Indian woman look. I don't know why my sister is so critical. If we don't experiment with style occasionally, what will we experiment with? We're past the time when we experimented with sex." she added.

  "Brenda!" Thelma said sharply.

  "Well, we are. aren't we? Or, at least, I am. I can only speak for myself. I suppose there are women our age still on the hunt, so to speak."

  "You know there are Thelma said. She turned to Bunny. "Just yesterday, I told her what I had heard about Casey Freyman and her gardener. Gardeners, I should say."

  Brenda laughed. "Well, more power to her. They say Viagra can help women, too." she said.

  "Sit down, you fool. I swear. Bunny, I spend most of my day mending the fences my sister cracks in this town with her foolish gossip and childish behavior."

  "That's what an older sister is for," Brenda said, sitting down but petulantly,

  "Please, join us. Isabel." Bunny said, gesturing toward the free chair.

  I sat

  "What would you like?"

  "Oh. I'm not hungry, thank you."

  "How about something to drink. a Bloody Marv. perhaps? Brenda is having a Mai Tai."

  "No. thank you. I'll just have some iced tea. That is iced tea?" I asked. nodding at the pitcher.

  "Oh. yes."

  She didn't make any effort to pour it into a glass. so I began to reach for it, and, almost out of thin air. a maid appeared. poured the iced tea for me, and then, as quickly as she had come, stepped out of the room.

  "Your house servants seem to come out of the woodwork," I remarked,

  Bunny laughed. Thelma raised her eyebrows, and Brenda nodded. smiling.

  "That's how they are supposed to appear," Bunny said.

  Thelma turned her body completely toward me. "I understand you are here to dissect Palm Beach society," she said. "Put us all under a microscope."

  "Not exactly dissect," I said, smiling nervously, "I'm working on a thesis paper."

  "About rich people," Bunny added quickly.

  "Yes." I admitted.

  "I can't think of anything more boring." Thelma said. "The younger generation here is a completely spoiled. self-centered. degenerate bunch. and the older generation is absorbed with the effort to be younger. as you can see from my sister's behavior. Every club will be like the one you've just visited: every affair will be a carbon copy of the affair you've just attended."

  "If you dislike it so much, why do you continue to live here?" I asked, actually curious about it.

  Her sister laughed.

  "Where else would I live?" Thelma snapped back at me. "Most of the rest of America is plagued with crime and filth."

  And if she moved away, whom would I have for my Wednesday teas?" Bunny cried as if it were a real worry,

  "You'd find someone else pretty quickly," Thelma told her.

  Bunny just laughed and then leaned toward me and admitted she would.

  Thelma looked satisfied that she was right. Her eyes fixed on me again. "Wh
ere are you from?"

  "South Carolina," I said.

  "Where?" she pursued.

  "A little community outside Columbia called Spring City. And I am a student at the University of North Carolina."

  "How did you come to this place?" she followed.

  -"Thelma, you're behaving like a private detective." Bunny intercepted, seeing the look on my face.

  "I... a friend of my father's... made some introductions for me," I stuttered,

  "Oh? And who would that be?"

  "Thelma!"

  "I'm just trying to make some polite

  conversation. Bunny," she said, but pulled back to nibble on a finger sandwich.

  "Has this modem Indian woman look reached the Carolinas yet?" Brenda asked me.

  "I think I've seen women on campus wearing it, yes."

  "You see?" Thelma said. "Women on campus. I'm sure there are no students your age. Brenda."

  "This is not a style for young women only Madeline assured me of that." Brenda insisted.

  "Madeline would assure you of anything to make a sale." Thelma told her sharply, and then turned back to me. "What business is your family in?"

  "My father was a doctor." I said.

  "Really. Is he retired?"

  "He passed away recently."

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Brenda said.

  "And your mother?"

  "She died a few years ago in a car accident."

  "Oh, dear me, dear me," Brenda moaned, "Must you extract all this horrible information from the poor girl. Thelma?"

  "Whether I do or not does not affect the reality of it. Brenda. My sister has always resembled an ostrich." she said. "keeping her head in the sand."

  "I have not!"

  "I suppose you will hear some talk of it if you interview the gossips in this town, but when my sister's husband. Marshall Carriage, died in his sleep. Brenda kept anyone from knowing about it for three days. She didn't even tell me."

  Brenda's face looked as if it would crumple into sobs any moment.

  "I think she expected a resurrection. It could have been quite a little scandal if that autopsy showed anything but heart failure," she added, stabbing her sister with a look that would have pierced an army tank.