THE MURMURED CONVERSATION between Alton and my mother turned to silence as I stepped into the dining room. I watched with satisfaction as red crept from the starched collar of Alton’s shirt like a tide, making its way up his thick neck to the tips of his ears. Time had changed his once blonde hair to white. I fought back my smile as something about the contrast of the reddening of his skin and the white of his hair amused me. With the vein in his forehead popping to attention and his jaw clenched, he pushed back his chair. As he was about to stand, my mother reached for his hand and turned toward me. The eerie calmness of her voice threatened to transport me back in time.
Then I saw the glass of red liquid, a cabernet wine, and I gave myself permission to smile. As a child I never realized the depth of my mother’s self-medication. White wine during the day and red at night: Montague Manor didn’t need clocks. We could tell the time by the color of the drink in my mother’s glass. Occasionally, other names were used: mimosa or sangria. It was all the same. Adelaide Fitzgerald lived her life in a blissful state of serenity because without it, she would have had to face the gruesome reality. She wasn’t strong enough to do that ten years ago. She sure as hell wasn’t strong enough today.
But I was.
“Alexandria, dear…” Her words never slurred. “Didn’t you find the dresses I bought for you?”
“I did. Thank you.” The programmed words weren’t totally insincere. The dress Jane showed me was lovely—for a teenager. “It’s late and I had a few text messages to answer. I know how you like to eat at precisely seven. Seeing that you held dinner for me, I didn’t want to make you wait any longer.”
The text part wasn’t a lie either. I just hadn’t responded to them yet. I wasn’t sure how I wanted to answer Chelsea. I’d messaged her to let her know I’d landed. It was in response to How are you holding up? that rendered me at a loss for words. Since I was someone with a degree in English, words should be my forte.
“Well, it is just us tonight,” she reasoned. “Tomorrow will be different.”
The fork I’d just lifted grew heavy. My hand landed upon the tablecloth with an exasperated sigh. “Tomorrow? Mother, I can’t stay. I have things that need to be done. I have a life.”
“You’re staying until after our meeting on Monday,” Alton replied.
“What meeting?”
Mother pressed her lips into a disapproving straight line toward her husband. “Let’s not get into all of that. We have the whole weekend before we need to worry about that.”
“That what?” I asked again.
A young woman entered from the kitchen with a pitcher of water. Her presence left my question floating unanswered in the air.
“Water, miss?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ll also have a glass of cabernet.”
Her eyes widened and she turned toward Alton. Ever so slightly he nodded.
Asshole. If they planned to keep me trapped in this house for three full days, it would take more than mint chocolate chip ice cream to get me through.
“Leave the bottle,” I said as she poured my glass.
The back of my throat clenched as I sipped the thick liquid. Unquestionably, the wine from the Montague wine cellar was more expensive than what I purchased at the grocery. I savored the dry cedar-wood flavor.
When I had control over my trust fund, I would consider spending more money on my wine. The taste I’d just enjoyed reminded me that it would be money well spent. As I inhaled the fine aroma, a recent memory came back and filled me with warmth.
I’d rather be drinking wine in Del Mar with him than sitting in this stuffy dining room.
“I’m not sure I approve of the way you’ve changed while away at school.” Alton’s words were as dry as the wine.
Lifting my brows, I tilted my head. “I’m not sure I approve of the way things have stayed the same here.”
“Please,” my mother began. “Alexandria, I’m delighted to have you home, if only for a few days. Can you please make an attempt to get along…” She took a long drink from her glass and eyed the bottle. “…for me?”
Alton poured her another glass. I sighed and began to eat my salad. It wasn’t until the main course was served that I remembered our earlier discussion.
“What is happening tomorrow night?”
My mother’s eyes came back to life. “Well, since it’s been so long since you’ve been home, and we need to celebrate your graduation, I’ve invited a few friends over.”
My stomach sank. So much for coming in and getting out of Savannah unnoticed. “A few friends?” I asked.
“Yes. It would’ve been bigger, but this was all done on short notice and as you know, many of our friends vacation this time of year.”
“Most of the people I know work this time of year.”
“Really, Alexandria?” Alton questioned. “How has your job been? Last I heard you were at an expensive spa in Southern California.”
I turned his direction. “Why would you know that? Are you having me followed?”
“No.” The word spewed forth as if the idea was preposterous. “Your mother is still listed on your trust. It’s Ralph’s job to keep us informed.”
“No,” I corrected. “It isn’t. If that’s the way Mr. Hamilton does his business, perhaps I’ll move the trust elsewhere.”
“If you’d read the trust, you’d understand the legalities.”
“I received the trust when I was nine years old. But you’re right. If I’m stuck here for three days, I’ll make a trip to Hamilton and Preston and take a look at it.”
“Because an English major will understand,” Alton said, obviously demeaning my choice of study.
“More so than a child.”
“Please,” my mother implored. “As I said, can we talk about all of this later? Tomorrow, Alexandria, I have plans for us.”
I exhaled. “What plans do we have?” It was clear my time wasn’t my own.
“I thought it would be nice for us to go to the spa.”
I closed my eyes, fighting the memory I’d had as I walked to my room. Careful to avoid Alton’s glare, I plastered my best Montague smile on my face and said, “That sounds lovely, Mother. What time should I be ready?”
“I made our appointment for ten. Then we can go to the tearoom for lunch…”
I smiled dutifully as she went on and on about the changes that had occurred in Savannah since I’d moved. With Alton’s occasional glare in my peripheral vision, I knew the truth. Nothing ever changed—not in Montague Manor and not in Savannah.
“DINNER FROM HELL IS OVER.” I hit send. “I CAN’T LEAVE UNTIL MONDAY EVENING.” I hit send again.
My phone buzzed with Chelsea’s reply. “CAN’T?”
“I TOLD YOU. THIS PLACE IS A PRISON.” I hit send.
Chelsea: “I TOLD YOU THAT YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ME WITH YOU. I KICK ASS AT JAIL BREAKS!”
I laughed. Damn, I missed her. I couldn’t believe we’d really be separated when I moved to New York. I only had two weeks before I needed to move. Of course, that meant that Chelsea needed a new roommate or she needed to move too when our lease was up. There was no way she could afford our apartment on her own.
“I’LL KEEP THAT INFO UNDER WRAPS!” I replied.
Every time I asked her what she was going to do, she’d tell me to take her with me to New York. She’d interviewed for a few jobs in and around San Francisco, but I was seriously beginning to think she planned to move to New York. I wanted that, but I didn’t. The apartment I’d found on the Upper West Side was small with only one bedroom and cost as much as the place we had in Palo Alto.
Chelsea: “SERIOUSLY, WHAT DOES YOUR MOM WANT?”
Me: “I STILL DON’T KNOW. SOME MEETING ON MONDAY THAT SHE DOESN’T WANT TO DISCUSS. I KNOW IT’S TOO EARLY FOR IT TO GO TO ME COMPLETELY, BUT I’M THINKING IT HAS TO DO WITH THE TRUST FUND.”
Chelsea: “DO YOU THINK THEY’LL SIGN IT OVER TO YOU?”
Me: “I DON’T KNOW. MAYBE THERE WAS SOME CLAUSE ABOUT GRADUATING COLLEGE THAT I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT.”
The faint knock at the door made me jump. I looked at the clock and my pulse increased. It was after nine-thirty.
“Alex, don’t let the ice cream melt.”
I took a deep breath. Jane. I’d forgotten about our ice cream and movie night.
Me: “I’LL KEEP YOU POSTED. TALK TO YOU LATER!”
Chelsea: “LATERS!”
Somehow I thought that salutation would be better coming from a hot billionaire than my best friend.
“I’m coming,” I called as I crawled off my bed and moved toward the door.
The locking mechanism clicked when I turned the key. The old house still had skeleton keys for each room. It was how the unused rooms could be locked from the outside. The obvious problem with skeleton keys was that most every one of them was the same. It didn’t take a jailer’s ring to open any of the doors. All you needed was one key, unless the key was in place on the other side.
I opened the door to Jane’s smiling face. Tucked in the crook of her elbow was a basket with two visible pints of ice cream, spoons, and napkins. My grin grew.
“I don’t think I’ve eaten ice cream directly out of the carton since I was here,” I said as I let her in. Turning the key and locking the door from the inside was habit that didn’t even register.
“Then what have you been doing?” She narrowed her eyes. “That’s why you’re so skinny and me…” She pointed to her behind. “…I got cushion!”
I flopped down on the bed. “Oh, I have cushion. It’s just not in the rear.”
“Yes, you do! When did that happen?”
I laughed. “Sometime during my freshman year. I woke up one day and boom! There they were.”
As Jane began emptying her basket, I noticed she was no longer wearing her normal slacks and blouse, but comfortable yoga pants. “Hey,” I said, “I haven’t had a chance to change. How about you get our movie going while I go put something better on than jeans that have been in three states today?”
“I’ve got it. Don’t worry about the ice cream.” She tried to stick a spoon into hers. “It’s still hard as a rock. Some things in this old house don’t work like they used to, but that walk-in freezer… it’s a dinosaur… a frozen one!”
“Ice age!” I exclaimed as I pulled an old pair of running shorts from my dresser. When I stepped into the bathroom, I noticed the shower. Peeking my head back out into the bedroom, I saw Jane’s cushion as she leaned down to put the DVD in the DVR. “Jane, I’m going to take a quick shower and rinse off today’s crud.”
She looked my way. “Hurry, child. Don’t forget the ice cream.”
“Oh, I won’t.”
About ten minutes later with my long hair in a towel wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt, I opened the bathroom door. From the bathroom all I heard was the opening music to our show playing over and over. But as I stepped out, I heard Jane shutting and locking my door again.
“Did you forget something?”
Her rosy expression was gone. “No.”
“What is it?”
She walked toward me and grabbed my hand. Giving it a squeeze, she said, “Nothing at all. Let’s not spoil our reunion.”
“Jane?”
“You had a visitor.”
My heart fell to my stomach as my knees grew weak.
“See. That look there is why you don’t need to know any more.”
I knew whom she meant. “What did he say?”
“Said he wants you to stop upsetting Mrs. Fitzgerald.”
I sighed. “God, I hate it here!”
Jane patted my arm. “I said you would probably be awhile. You were indisposed. I offered to give you the message and may have mentioned that we were planning an all-nighter—a movie marathon.”
Swallowing, I nodded weakly. “Jane, tell me again.”
“What, baby girl?”
“What you used to tell me.”
“You’re as beautiful on the inside as you are on the out.” Her cheeks rose. “And, baby, with those knockers—sorry, cushions—you’re gorgeous on the outside. Don’t let anyone or anything ever make you forget that.”
She took a step toward the ice cream and stopped. Turning back to me she added, “And you ain’t no baby no more, Miss Alex Collins. You’re a beautiful, successful adult.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
“Now, let’s eat some ice cream, or we’ll be drinking mint chocolate chip milk.”
“Yuck!”