Second Thoughts

by Cara Bertrand

  “I’m not going,” I replied, but he’d already shut the door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The morning of my eighteenth birthday started with a surprise. At the beginning of second hour, I was summoned to the Administration building. I hoped it was something about reviewing my increased permissions, now that I was technically a legal adult. Some other seniors could leave campus on weekends and I thought that would be nice.

  But it was actually something much bigger for which I found myself in Headmaster Stewart’s office for the first time since the beginning of the school year. Dr. Stewart and I saw each other, of course, at Honor Board meetings and other things around campus, but you didn’t usually come to her office unless you were in trouble. Practically all of the staff wished me a happy birthday as I climbed the stairs, and Dr. Stewart met me at the door to her suite.

  “Happy birthday, Ms. Young,” she said as she ushered me inside. It was a lot warmer than the way she might have said it the year before. She gestured for me to help myself to coffee from the service waiting on her sideboard.

  From her collection, I picked a cup patterned with wide cobalt stripes and pewter flowers. Every time I visited the office I used a different one. If I could be said to have a favorite thing about Dr. Stewart, it would be the stacks of antique teacups that were just one of the ways she embraced Northbrook’s old-world charm. She asked me about college as I stirred in my cream.

  “Well, I haven’t gotten my acceptances yet. It’s still a little early for those.”

  The headmaster regarded me with an expression that seemed to say only with great effort was she containing a sigh. “Elaine, really. I admire your humility, but you must know your acceptance at nearly any school worth attending is guaranteed. Your performance here has been exemplary, as are your references. Senator Astor’s name alone is enough to ensure your admittance, and I’m well aware of the personal interest he has in your success.”

  As always, I had to remind myself to stand up straight when I was around Dr. Stewart. Even her praise could be as intimidating as her scrutiny. “Thank you,” I said, trying not to stammer. “I guess if everything goes okay, I’m probably going to choose between Baltimore and Boston, but maybe New York. They were always my favorites.”

  She nodded, unsurprised. “I’m sure Senator Astor will be pleased to hear it, and that you’ll make the best choice.” After a brief pause she continued in a softer voice. “You could do great things, Lainey. I think you will.”

  I barely knew what to say to that, so once more I told her, “Thank you.” I hoped I didn’t disappoint her, disappoint everyone. The truth was, I didn’t want to be great. Maybe I lacked ambition or drive or my life was too easy or whatever. But what I wanted was to have a small life, be a good person, and be happy. Deal in antiques and then, someday, get married, maybe have kids or at least be a really good aunt to Amy’s.

  Dr. Stewart interrupted my thoughts by saying, “Well, now, let’s not keep your guest waiting.”

  “Guest?”

  She almost, just barely smiled as she opened the door to her inner office and stepped away. Behind it was my Uncle Martin. He was wearing an enormous smile along with his typical suit and tie, and when he opened his arms for me, I flew into them.

  “What are you doing here?!” I said into his shoulder. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t told me he was coming. Much like my aunt, “Uncle” Martin wasn’t technically my uncle at all. But he was family. Before the accident, he’d been my father’s financial manager and, more importantly, his friend.

  “I thought it would be fun to surprise you,” he replied. “Happy birthday, Lainey. It’s so nice to see you.” He stepped back to look at me and gently inspected my cast. “I see Tessa’s gotten a hold of this.”

  “For sure the only thing I’ll miss about it when it’s gone is the art.”

  My uncle chuckled. “I like the purple on you, though I don’t suppose you do. I hope you’ve chosen a lovely dress to coordinate with it for this evening.”

  “I guess Dr. Stewart told you about the Winter Ball,” I said. She’d left the office for our privacy, but I dropped my voice for the next part anyway. “But, well…I didn’t actually want to go this year anyway, so now that you’re here, we don’t have to! Carter and I will take you to dinner!”

  Uncle Martin led me over to the chairs in front of the headmaster’s desk while I rambled. This was perfect. Now I didn’t have to go to the Ball. Carter would be disappointed, and probably Amy too, but I knew they’d understand. Plus, Carter would love spending time with my uncle.

  But that wasn’t what was going to happen. “My dear,” Uncle Martin said. “I have no intention of keeping you from your Winter Ball. It’s your senior year—you should enjoy all the events that come with it.” When I started to protest, he held up a hand. “And though I am here to wish you a wonderful birthday, there’s more than that—there’s business, too. You’re eighteen today, Lainey. An adult. My time as executor of your trust has officially come to an end.”

  Wow. That hadn’t even occurred to me. “I…” didn’t really know what to say.

  In truth, I didn’t think a lot about money. For one, thanks to my parents, I was lucky enough not to have to. My allowance had always been generous, maybe even extravagant, and more than enough for pretty much anything I wanted or needed. I’d never spent much time thinking about this day, when all the money in reserve for me would become unrestrictedly mine. I couldn’t say I’d looked forward to it; I’d surely have given it all up to have my parents here to celebrate with me.

  But they weren’t, and my life was what it was. Uncle Martin reached for my hand.

  “Would that it were different,” he said, echoing my thoughts, “and your father himself were here instead of me in his place, but congratulations, Lainey, you’re an heiress.”

  I still didn’t know what to say, so I leaned over and hugged him again. When I finally found a response, it was simply, “I’m just glad you came.”

  “Just doing my job,” he joked and I squeezed him tighter.

  From there, it was oddly formal, and easy to think of as distant and apart from myself. This thing I was doing, signing papers and initialing clauses and accepting a card printed with access codes. It was business. It was me retaining one Martin Schearer as my personal financial manager at nothing less than his usual rates.

  Dr. Stewart joined us to serve as witness, along with the effusive woman from the front desk who usually served me tea but was also the school’s notary. It amazed me that someone who worked with teenagers and Dr. Stewart all day could always be so jubilant, and I liked her even more for it. She seemed charmed by my uncle as she stamped and sealed our documents, which was hardly surprising. He was polite and polished, the very definition of dapper, an educated, wealthy, and, also, gay man closer to sixty than fifty. He charmed everyone, especially women over forty. I adored him.

  When the business was concluded, I was excused from the rest of the already abbreviated day of classes. I took my financial manager to lunch. It was early enough, so we went to Dad’s. Breakfast was their specialty, but during the week they served sandwiches with soup, chips, and a pickle too. I knew Uncle Martin would love it there, and that Mercy would love him as much as everyone else.

  “E-laine!” she cried when we came through the door, using my full name and an extra-heavy accent for effect. The dining room was about half-full and split between people having late breakfast or early lunch. “I know you ain’t skipping classes because it’s the very day of the dance, but what’re you doing here?”

  I laughed. “I take it Carter came in this morning?” He also had a rare day off today—and tomorrow too.

  “He did.” She bustled over to hug me. “But it’s good to see you too. And who’ve you brought this time?” she added, eying my uncle, and his suit, with interest. Possibly no patron ever had worn a suit like my uncle’s to Dad’s Diner.

  “Martin Schearer,” my uncle interjected, ta
king Mercy’s hand into his own for a warm shake. “Lainey’s uncle of sorts, and also, though I know she’ll protest, the man here to take her to lunch for her birthday. It’s a pleasure to meet you; I’ve heard so much.”

  Mercy eyed him even more. “Well aren’t you a delight. First the senator, now you. Our Elaine certainly brings the best dates to the diner.” She turned her scrutiny on me. “And I wondered if you’d mention the birthday. Thank you, but don’t worry, Mr. Martin Schearer. Lunch will be on the house, birthday girl.”

  From the back, Dad called, “Order UP! And happy birthday, Lainey!”

  All things considered, this hadn’t been the worst of my birthdays so far. I couldn’t stop smiling as we chose an empty table in the back, actually the same table I’d shared with Senator Astor what felt like both forever and no time at all ago. I told my uncle as much as we sat down.

  “Speaking of,” he said. “I have an envelope for you he asked me to pass along. I momentarily forgot about it during all our business this morning.” When I looked at him with surprise, he said, “Have I told you how Dan’s persuaded me to join the board of the Astor Arts program?”

  “Uh, no, you didn’t mention it. Sounds perfect for you, though.” It felt slightly strange, or ironic maybe, that the man I’d always considered my uncle was now on a first name basis, and joining the boards of charities, with the man who was actually my uncle. Aunt Tessa had introduced them, of course.

  But I really couldn’t think of someone better to help direct the Astor Arts charity than Uncle Martin. They funded youth arts programs across the country and provided grants for working artists early in their careers. Aunt Tessa had told Dan and me during our dinner in Baltimore how she’d actually been preparing to apply for a grant before my parents’ accident. After a moment of mulling it over, I told my uncle, “You know what? I’d like to make a donation. That can be your first official act as my financial manager.”

  “Consider it done,” he said. After a pause he added, “He looks quite like your father you know, the senator.”

  “I know.” Boy, did I know.

  “I’d seen him before, glimpses in the political news, but even with Tessa’s warning, seeing him in person was…a bit like meeting a ghost. One I miss very much.”

  “Oh, Uncle…” I covered his hand with mine and squeezed. He patted our joined hands with his free one before saying, “Just a fond moment for an old man, nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re not old!”

  “Not at heart, no, my dear. And never when I’m with you.” God, I loved Uncle Martin and the way he always made me—everyone—feel special. After another pause and a last squeeze of hands, he said, “It is a surprising likeness though.”

  “Did you, uh, mention it to him? What did he say?” I was sure my aunt had by now, but I didn’t want to put ideas into Dan’s head. If I ever told him who I was, I wanted it to come from me.

  My uncle shook his head. “No. It didn’t seem necessary. They’re different men, after all. But I enjoy having a new friend who reminds me of my old one. How interesting it would have been for them to meet, don’t you think?”

  We had a great lunch after that, the perfect kind of birthday afternoon I wished would never end. Uncle Martin’s surprise visit was only for the day, so we lingered until closing over discussions of antiques and my aunt, investments and charities, new friends and old, and, also, my future. Unsurprisingly, my uncle heavily favored my return to Baltimore.

  “Your time at the Academy has been so good for you, with the stability and the rigorous academics,” Uncle Martin explained, and sometimes I smiled at him just because who else said things like stability and rigorous academics seriously? But he did. He was a good salesman too. He went on, “I can’t help but believe a similar environment that’s also close to your family wouldn’t be equally healthy or better.”

  Though his argument for “coming home,” as he called it, was practical, I knew it was mostly that he wanted the chance to live close to me and my aunt for the first time in my remembered life. His enthusiasm, along with Aunt Tessa’s more subdued encouragement, was hard to ignore.

  “I’m strongly considering it,” I promised him as we pulled back through the gates at school. Campus was busy with Winter Ball prep, students scurrying and cars coming and going. We pulled up to my building, only to find a limo already there and my roommate pacing around outside it.

  “Lainey!” She was calling before I’d even finished opening my door. “Oh, finally! C’mon! We’re so late!”

  Uncle Martin stepped out of the car and I officially introduced them. Amy did her best rapid-fire conversation as she ran around to my side of the car. “Hi, Mr. Schearer, it’s so nice to meet you! Are you staying? I hope so, because I’d love to talk to you some more and maybe you could tell me embarrassing stories about my friend, but Lainey and I have to go!” She tugged on my arm, like an excited little kid.

  Uncle Martin was clearly amused. He’d never seen me with my friends before and he indulged my roommate’s whimsy with all the excitement of a favorite uncle. “A delight to meet you too, dear. And if you have to go, I mustn’t keep you!” His eyes sparkled and I knew Amy loved him instantly. I managed only a quick hug and goodbye before Amy dragged me into the limo.

  We waved to him as we started away and Amy gushed, “Wow, he’s adorable.”

  “He is. I miss him already. And I don’t think I’m that late?” I was maybe a little behind schedule, but not enough to warrant the fretting and rushing my roommate was doing.

  “You are,” she insisted. “Because I have a surprise! Happy birthday!” She was grinning and practically vibrating and that’s when I realized:

  “Have you had some champagne?”

  “Maybe just a little.” She shrugged and before I could say anything, she went on, “Anyway, I know you said you didn’t want any presents blah-blah-blah, but you need this. It’s perfect for you and I don’t know why I never thought of it sooner. No protests. Drink this”—she handed me a bottle of water from a little cooler—“and thank me profusely later.”

  What she got me, it turned out, was a massage.

  I’D HAD MASSAGES before, mostly to help with my “migraines” before coming to Northbrook solved that problem for me. It was the only treatment I ever liked, but none of them compared to the one Amy got me. The salon, really a spa, where we had our hair and nail appointments, was the fanciest one in the area. You had to make Winter Ball appointments a whole year in advance, and now I understood why.

  After a magical ninety minutes of hot stone massage followed by a private, million-nozzle steam shower, I felt amazing. Relaxed, limber, and practically weightless. Amy was right—a massage was exactly what I needed. Actually, she’d probably argue that I needed them more often, but today’s at least was the perfect present. I didn’t care that I only had time to get my nails or my hair done. I chose nails, because my roommate was pretty handy with a hairbrush. I felt so good, I was even looking forward to the dance.

  When I finally got back to our room, Amy looked amazing and had polished off nearly an entire bottle of champagne, all with no help from me. Because of the combination of those things, she wasn’t nearly as concerned about the state of my readiness as she should have been.

  “You’ve got a lot to do, miss, and not much time to do it,” she admonished me and thrust my own glass of champagne into my hand. “Starting with this.”

  “This didn’t go so well for me last year,” I told her, but I took a sip anyway. It was just as bubbly and sweet as I remembered it.

  “No,” she countered. “This is exactly what you need to keep yourself from reverting to your natural state of stressing. Drink up, and let’s get you done.”

  We talked while she fussed over me, doing my makeup and helping braid my hair in a sort of crown I used to practice on myself during my frequent hours of alone time before Northbrook. It was nice just to be with my roommate without drama. I sipped the champagne—slowly—and
let her cheer fill me up better than the drink ever could.

  “Why is it such a big deal here, the Ball?” I asked, eyes closed while she worked her magic on my hair. Almost everyone who could go—sophomores, juniors, and seniors—went. Freshmen were allowed as dates, but no students from the lower school. I’d have thought more people would skip it, would be too cool or not want to go alone or whatever. But they didn’t.

  “Well, it’s tradition. Everybody goes. That’s what you hear from your first day here, so by the time it’s your turn, you want to go. It’s a chance, well, three chances, to get dressed up and have fun and show off and be out way past curfew with all your friends.”

  “Everybody has prom though, and they don’t all go.”

  “Yeah, but a lot of them do. My friends from home all go and they have a million other things they could do. But us? We have campus and the bookstore. Curfew, like I said. The Ball is the thing we get to do. So”—she pulled my head back with the brush and I opened my eyes to see her wicked grin—“we fucking do it.”

  Amy had pitched a fit when I confessed I didn’t want to go, and between her and Carter, I’d caved easily. How could I disappoint both of them like that? And how could it possibly be worse than last year? That was probably a dangerous question, but I was pretty sure last year couldn’t be topped. Now I was feeling so relaxed about, just, everything, I was determined to make this year’s dance great. Or at least not a debacle.

  Amy had also pitched a fit when my dress came in the mail at the last minute, mostly because I hadn’t let her choose for me, but I knew it was perfect when I saw it online. And I was right. I kept looking at where it hung on the back of the bathroom door. The silk was deep emerald and the skirt flowed all the way to my feet, but the top had a low V in the front and tiny straps that slipped up my arms and over my shoulders to keep it in place, leaving my back completely bare to the waist. It was a dress I could imagine my mother would have worn, sexy but relaxed and with some mystery, and I couldn’t wait to put it on.