Castle Moon

by Mary Bowers

  The note in the pocket of my green silk dress suddenly felt heavy, and I concentrated on not brushing my hand across the spot behind which it lay, just to reassure myself it wasn’t showing at the edge of the pocket. I knew it wasn’t. I’d checked myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. But seeing Jeralyn made me so aware of it that I must have looked guilty. She didn’t seem to notice, though. She was preoccupied with her own problems.

  I wanted to reach for Bastet, but I also didn’t want her claws to make a run in the fragile fabric of my washable silk dress, so I just lowered my head to look into her eyes and said, “Having a nice time with Jeralyn, baby?”

  She did that thing she does sometimes. Holding my eyes with a very deliberate stare, she closed hers one time and slowly opened them again. It was a signal I’d never been able to figure out, but it always happened when . . . well, when something was about to happen. It added to my uneasiness.

  “I didn’t want to bother you while you were getting ready,” Jeralyn said. “I just thought, you know, we could walk together and maybe talk a little before we have to join the others. I don’t know when I’m going to have another chance. After dinner it’s going to take forever to clear the table and clean up in the kitchen, and later on I guess you’ll be looking for Oliver’s ghost again.”

  “Does Charlotte need help in the kitchen? I’m sure I could find an apron somewhere.”

  “We’ve got it all figured out. Julie’s actually helping. She probably can’t resist having the chance to smirk at me. She’s been humming the whole time, acting like it was good for her. Anyway, I’ve got the table set, the side dishes are in electric warmers in the butler’s pantry, and Charlotte is going to bring in the turkey after the family is seated. We’re hoping they’ll just let us set the dishes on the table instead of us having to go around and serve each person.”

  “I should hope so!”

  She smiled. “I think it’ll be okay. Anyway, everything is as ready as we could get it, and Charlotte said I was just getting in the way. She’s so nice. She knew I wanted to talk to you. About last night.”

  Oh, lord, this was going to be awkward. I nodded, and prepared myself to be comforting. But I wasn’t going to lie.

  “You were there,” she said, lifting her chin and holding Bastet close. “Was she . . . were they . . . she was in his room, wasn’t she. Horace said she came running out with no clothes on.”

  “I’m sure he wishes she had. Don’t you know better than to listen to that kid? No, she was wearing a negligee. It was pretty revealing, but she wasn’t naked.”

  “But she did come out of his room?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “There’s no doubt about that?”

  “No.”

  “There’s an empty bedroom facing the door to Ryan’s. She might have come out of that one.”

  “No. She almost hit Ed in the face with the door.”

  “What time was it?”

  “Just after midnight.”

  “They were together.”

  “It’s impossible to know what had been going on. He came out of his room all befuddled and stammering.”

  “Well, he would, wouldn’t he?” she said bitterly, looking down to stroke Bastet’s head.

  “But he denied knowing that she’d been in there. He even asked me if it had been me that just ran out of his room. Have you talked to Ryan? What’s his side of the story?”

  She set her lips. I knew that look. I could only hope that Jeralyn would settle down in a day or so and be willing to listen, but Ryan was going to have to wait for her to cool off first, and that was going to be hell for him.

  I chose my next words carefully. “He at least deserves a chance. How close have the two of you been? Is it serious?”

  Very softly she said, “I was serious. I quit my job. I moved to New York. I changed my whole life.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I decided to try another angle. “How well do you know Julie? Is she capable of playing dirty tricks? Is she downright evil?”

  “Charlotte knows her better than I do. I took a disliking to her the minute I met her.”

  “If she’s the kind of woman I think she is, when she sees something pretty, she has to have it. If you won’t give it to her, she’ll smash it. That way, nobody can have it. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah. Ryan being the pretty thing.”

  “What you and Ryan have together being the pretty thing.”

  That got her, somehow, and she hiccupped a little sob.

  “If what you have is worth anything at all, you should at least listen to Ryan’s side of the story. After all, he wasn’t in her room. She was in his. Having a tryst on the third floor would have been a lot less risky than having it where the whole Moon family was sleeping in the rooms all around them.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “If Ryan turns out to be a low-down dirty rat, I say dump him. You’re too young and pretty and smart to put up with a louse. But if he’s not . . . if this is just Julie’s way of making you break up with him . . . he should at least have a chance to defend himself. What if he’s innocent, and the problem is that Julie wants him for herself? Are you going to stand aside and let her have him, or fight for your man?”

  Her eyes were wide open, but she kept her mouth clamped shut.

  We were down the spiral staircase now. We had taken the one at the west side of the castle. I didn’t want to enter the dining room from the butler’s pantry, and since it was a longer route, it gave us more time to talk. When we got into the great hall, Jeralyn stooped to release the cat. Bastet streaked off into Oliver’s office, like she knew where she was going, and I muttered, “Anywhere but near me.”

  Jeralyn, still abstracted, turned to me. “What?”

  I gestured after Bastet. “She didn’t want to come to the castle with me, but Oliver insisted. Ever since we got here, she’s been acting like a brat. I thought she’d be over it by now, but she seems to have her own agenda.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been monopolizing her. It’s just so nice to have a pet again. The Moons aren’t animal people, except for Ryan. He wants to rescue a plain old mutt when we get our own apartment.” Catching herself, she stopped talking and we walked on into the dining room.

  I said nothing, but privately, I was glad Bastet was – well, let’s call it what it was – guarding Jeralyn. Something evil was weaving itself around her; Bastet had realized it right away, and now I was feeling it too.

  The first thing I saw upon entering the dining room was that awful bust sitting on the mantel, looking fiercely down the length of the table. Through some trick of the light, his expression had changed, as if he were there to discipline his descendants.

  * * * * *

  Ed came up to me and offered me a glass of red wine.

  He said something, looking at me deeply, but I didn’t catch it. From the other side of the room, I heard Oliver’s voice booming at me. “A family tradition.”

  I turned and saw him making his way toward us. Ryan and Maxine were watching him too; Fawn, Elizabeth and young Horace hadn’t arrived yet.

  Oliver came up beside me, but didn’t lower his voice. “When we celebrate his birthday, we always bring him in. I don’t know how that got started –“

  “You got drunk one year and went staggering off to get him. It’s a wonder you didn’t drop him,” Ryan said, coming toward me, and incidentally, Jeralyn. She turned her nose up and went past him into the kitchen.

  “You mean it’s a shame he didn’t drop him,” Maxine groused, turning to glare at her grandfather’s stark white face.

  Oliver ignored his sister. “I was not drunk,” he told his nephew good-naturedly. “I was sentimental. And full of wine. There’s a difference. Come and sit down, Taylor. Don’t let the old man intimidate you.” He threw a playful look at the bust. “It only encourages him.”

  “Can’t we have Orion, too?” I asked, meaning to show some spunk.

  “And
excellent idea!” Oliver cried, as the others groaned and glared at me. “Ryan, why don’t you go into the north gallery and bring that little pastel of my father? You know the one. Mother did it one day – just a quick sketch – while they were sitting on the terrace. She wasn’t a great artist, but with that sketch she caught something. His eyes, I think. It’s always been a favorite of mine.”

  “Why just the men-folk?” Maxine said, seating herself and looking grim. “Bring in the whole gang, why don’t you? I know Cousin Clarice is a special favorite of yours.”

  Ryan, who was about to argue, suddenly exited the dining room before anyone could ask for more portraits. He took the path through the kitchen, of course. It was the shortest way, but if it had taken him by way of Duluth, Minnesota he would’ve gone that way. Jeralyn was in there.

  He was back fairly soon, looking sober, so Jeralyn must have turned her back on him. He had with him the drawing I’d noticed earlier, when I’d been in the portrait gallery.

  “Where’s Clarice?”

  “Stop it, Maxine,” Oliver said. He took the little drawing from Ryan and put it on the mantel himself, then stood back to look at it. It was about eight by ten, and modestly framed under glass. The bust loomed monumentally over it, but the pastel had so much more life to it that it upstaged the sculpture. Suddenly, the bust of Horace didn’t bother me anymore.

  It was in the eyes, as Oliver had said. They smiled at you. The rest of the drawing was a series of quick, precise strokes, suggesting hair, the shape of a face, and one shoulder. But the eyes were alive.

  We took our places at the table, sitting where we’d been at the only other meal we’d had together so far. The last three family members arrived just as Oliver was turning to look for them. He scowled, but didn’t say anything.

  The many-armed monstrosity had been removed from the center of the table. With that epergne in place, there wouldn’t have been enough room for the food to be set out, family-style. Apparently, we were serving ourselves, as Charlotte had wanted.

  Charlotte, Julie and Jeralyn weren’t eating with us. They came in once we were seated. Charlotte set the turkey platter before Oliver, who rose to carve it.

  “Aren’t we going to pray over it?” Maxine said acidly.

  “An excellent idea,” Oliver said. “Go ahead, Maxine. Lead us.”

  She glared, got an evil look in her eye, then, with Horace the Elder and Orion looking over her shoulder, she began.

  “Thank you, o lord, for giving us something fat to carve up and devour. And since that gives me an idea for a book, thanks for that, too. Amen. What do you say, Oliver, should I run down to the museum and bring a chainsaw for you?”

  Horace the Younger laughed, I grabbed my wineglass, and Ed knocked his over. It was all downhill from there.

  * * * * *

  They battled their way through dish after dish, criticizing the cooking, bringing up old grudges, and glorying over old family scandals. Every now and then, since we were pals now, young Horace would lean forward and grin at me across his mother’s bosom. Then she would look at me doubtfully, but at least she never smacked him anywhere. As a matter of fact, other than obviously wallowing in joy over the stories of his shady ancestor, he behaved himself pretty well. The whole family seemed charmed at the way old Horace had cheated the widows and orphans. By the time the cake came out, I was ready to bail, but I couldn’t. I reminded myself that it was almost over.

  Young Horace led everyone, including the secretaries, who had appeared in formation at the doorway to the pantry, in a strangely rollicking version of Happy Birthday. Ed and I just sat and blinked at one another. Neither one of us sang. I mean, the birthday boy was dead.

  All throughout the meal I had avoided looking at the mantel, but as they sang, I looked down the room at the dead men and wondered how many Moons would celebrate them in the future. The families of robber barons, with a very few exceptions, tended to fritter the money away and return to being commoners within two or three generations. The mantle would fall on Ryan next, and other than not being interested in politics, Jeralyn hadn’t mentioned that he was pursuing a career.

  I waited for Fawn’s big news, but it didn’t come. She had seemed excited about it at breakfast, but I guessed that Oliver had discouraged her somehow at their private meeting. If so, he didn’t show it by throwing her a stifling look every now and then. In fact, he ignored her completely. They all did.

  It wasn’t as if she wasn’t talking. She made gentle, drip-drip-drip conversation with this person and that, smiling dimly and getting no response. At one point, Maxine made a crack about how Fawn’s finishing school in Paris had made her a brilliant conversationalist.

  “I do take an interest in people,” Fawn said, ignoring the sarcasm. “By the way, Maxine, how is your latest book coming along?”

  “I’m having trouble with it,” Maxine snapped, bearing down on her with beady eyes. “But I’m expecting to get over the rough patch soon. I always do.”

  “How nice.” Fawn dropped it and turned to me. “And how is your investigation going? I think it’s all so interesting, looking for ghosts.”

  “Are you paying her?” Oliver snapped.

  “Why, no.”

  “Then you don’t get a report.” To me: “Don’t tell her anything.”

  As if there had been no interruption, he went on with a discussion he was having with Ryan about hurricane season, which had just begun. We’d been lucky for a few years, Oliver said, but it was only a matter of time. One of these years, Castle Moon was going to be thrown into the ocean during a howling storm, and anybody too stupid to evacuate would drown and that would be the end of it. He looked at Maxine and she looked at him. Then they went on with their separate conversations, hardly missing a beat.

  At one point, he gestured vaguely around the room. “I suppose once you inherit, you’re going to get rid of the place. I wouldn’t blame you. I’ve been thinking of getting rid of it myself for years. Who the hell would want it, though? You’ll have to give it away. Maybe the county needs a new correctional facility.”

  “Or an insane asylum,” young Horace suggested, grinning.

  “Wouldn’t that be appropriate?” Oliver said, gazing down the table at Maxine.

  “You wouldn’t dare sell the castle,” she intoned.

  “Oh, wouldn’t I? It’s about time you got a little place of your own. Someplace in a busy town, where you could meet people, maybe find yourself a boyfriend.” He howled with laughter while she glared at him.

  She turned on Ryan. “Are you serious? You’d sell the castle?”

  Ryan looked startled. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Oh, really?” Oliver said largely, like it was a huge joke. “Haven’t thought much about what you’re going to do after I kick the bucket and you inherit?”

  “I’m sure Ryan has no plans to sell the family gathering place,” Maxine said. “After all, the rest of you all live in apartments. You couldn’t host a family get-together unless you started shoving people into broom closets. Where would we have Horace’s birthday?” she asked, slowly and pointedly, looking down to the other end of the table, “once your Uncle Oliver is dead?”

  “You think you’re going to outlive me?” he asked quietly. “You wouldn’t be the first one to be wrong about that. Are you going to haunt me, too?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “Nobody’s haunting you.”

  “You forget, I have my own trust fund, from my father,” Ryan said. “I’m doing all right. And I don’t have extravagant wants or needs. Please live a long, long life, Uncle Oliver.” He lifted his wineglass and saluted.

  Ed and I were the only ones who joined him. Elizabeth turned and said something to her son, pretending she hadn’t heard.

  At that point, Jeralyn and Julie walked into the room and Elizabeth stared at them. “No, Ryan, I’d say your tastes are very simple indeed. Common, in fact.”

  “Would anyone like coffee?” Jeralyn
said, turning nearly purple. Behind her, Julie went around the table with the cream and sugar on a little tray, smiling to herself.

  Once the two secretaries were finished serving and had left the room, Fawn looked at her daughter and said, “What did you mean by that? Will somebody please explain the joke to me?”

  “Oh, haven’t you noticed? Your son has been –“

  “Elizabeth!” Oliver shouted, immediately silencing her.

  Ryan placed his napkin on the table, stood up and said, “I think I’d like to be excused now. Since we remain short-staffed, I suggest we carry our own dishes to the kitchen.”

  Charlotte appeared in the doorway of the pantry before Ryan could pick up his plate and said that wouldn’t be necessary, she and the other secretaries would be happy to clear, and she hoped everyone had enjoyed the dinner.

  “At least you’re safe from the family rake,” I heard Maxine mutter to Charlotte as she got up and threw her napkin down. “You’re nearly as old as I am.”

  Charlotte kept a set smile on her face and pretended she hadn’t heard.

  I got up in the middle of the pack and staggered out.

  * * * * *

  Ed caught up to me in the music room and suggested we sit down there as the rest of the family went on to the great hall and off on their various ways. We had just seated ourselves when I saw Ryan at the entrance to the front hall. He looked so forlorn. When he motioned to me, I asked Ed to wait while I went to see what he wanted.

  By the time I got across the hall, he was in the doorway of the chapel, and he drew me inside.

  It was tiny, and surprisingly cold. There were two thin, pointy windows in the outer wall with stained-glass windows that had to have been raided from some little European church by Horace the elder. Being on the south side of the castle, they admitted light, but in a gloomy blue-and-orange wash. Otherwise, there was no light, and the stone altar and uncomfortable-looking pews and kneelers looked very lonely. It wouldn’t have held more than ten worshippers at any one time.

  Looking at me earnestly with the side of his face blue from the stained glass, he said, “You’re Jeralyn’s friend, aren’t you? You’ve known her for a long time.”