by Jane Peart
"Be a lamb, Kitty, and go out to the kitchen and bribe Florrie for some food, will you? I'm famished! I didn't have a chance to eat lunch. As it was, I had to run to catch the train!"
With a sigh of resignation, Kitty went to do her sister's bidding and Cara ran upstairs to their bedroom. By the time Kitty came up with the tray, her sister had already opened her suitcases and was unpacking, strewing her clothes over every available surface.
At the sight of the plate of sandwiches and molasses cookies, Cara stopped immediately. "Ummm! I knew Florrie wouldn't let me down!"
"Well, she wasn't too happy about fixing all this so close to dinner time. She grumbled and said for me to tell you—" Here Kitty lapsed into the voice of their family cook—"Doan make a pig of yoself so's you doan do justice to the nice supper I spent all day cookin'."
"She needn't worry. After what they call 'food' at school, I can't get enough when I'm home," Cara assured her as she settled down on the bed and, spreading a napkin on her lap, picked up one of the ham sandwiches.
Curious to find out more about the two days Cara had been officially still at Fern Grove, Kitty decided to find out. "What happened? You know, Mama expected you on an earlier train. In fact, she was a little puzzled when we got your telegram saying you wouldn't be in until the 2:20. And frankly, Cara, I couldn't understand it, either."
"Well, she won't mind when she sees the present I got her!" Cara neatly evaded the question. Then she gave Kitty a long, speculative look. "Promise not to faint, or tell me I shouldn't have?"
"Oh, Cara, come on!" Kitty shook her head, wondering what her twin was going to spring next.
"I told you I went Christmas shopping, didn't I?"
Kitty nodded. "Yes, what about it?"
"Well, I bought myself a present, too!" Cara's eyes sparkled with mischief, almost always a prelude to some outrageous admission.
Kitty groaned. "What now?"
Cara polished off the glass of milk, then put aside the tray, got off the bed and down on her knees, and slid a dress box out from under the bed.
"Just wait 'til you see!" Lifting the top off a box imprinted with the label of one of Richmond's most expensive shops, she drew out a dress—flame-colored chiffon, embroidered with glittering beads—and held it up to herself.
"Oh, dear!" Kitty gasped.
"Is that all you have to say?" Cara swirled around to let the accordion-pleated skirt fan out as she spun. "Well? What do you think?"
In spite of herself, Kitty knew Cara would look spectacular in the dress, the shade enhancing her vivid coloring, its style setting off her slender grace. "I's . . . beautiful . . . but I'm just wondering what Mama—" She lowered her voice. "How much did it cost?"
Cara rolled her eyes. "You would ask that! Isn't it grand . . . worth whatever I paid?"
Wanting to agree, but knowing their parents might object, and rightfully so, to its daring, its sophistication, Kitty hesitated.
Cara looked peeved as she folded the dress and returned it t o the box. "I thought you'd love it, too. I'm disappointed you d i d n ' t . . . well . . . rave about it more."
"I do think the dress is wonderful, Cara, but I only wonder what Mama and especially Daddy—"
There was a mild explosion. "Well, I don't care! The minute I saw it I knew I had to have it . . . no matter what anyone else said. I have to be me! I can't always be concerned about what other people think of me . . . even you, Kitty!"
"Don't say that," protested Kitty. "I's not the money that bothers me, it's—"
Cara looked somewhat chastened. "If you must know, it cost me two months' allowance." She paused, then tossed her head defiantly. "But it's too late to worry about it now. I can't take it back. Besides, I bought satin slippers the same color and a beaded evening bag to go with it!"
Kitty swallowed back the question of how her sister was planning to manage school expenses for the next few weeks. Surely, with all these purchases, Cara had overdrawn the joint bank account their father had set up for them. There was only one answer. She would become Cara's banker until the impulsive shopping spree was paid for.
Of course, what made her twin so irresistible was that she could be so high-handed, so irritatingly selfish one minute and incredibly sweet and generous the next. Kitty could never stay upset with her for long, and so she forgave the extravagance.
"It is stunning, Cara. You'll be the belle of the ball!"
The following afternoon, the twins rode over to Montclair to visit Meredith, their first reunion since the summer. They were always struck by the contrast between Meredith and her brother. Meredith was plain and small as Kip was tall. Her gentle nature and genuine sweetness of character more than compensated for what she lacked in beauty.
What the twins could not know was that Meredith was deeply troubled by a situation she had never confided to either friend. She had confided to her diary moments before they arrived: "Though I love my friends and can't wait to see them again, I've envied them since I was a little g i r l . . . for one thing only—their home. There's a difference between Montclair and Cameron Hall, and I've never seen it so clearly as now, after being away for the first time. Montclair is so cold. There's no laughter, no warmth. Perhaps it is because, and I hate to admit it, there is no real heart here, no love—" Then, hearing the front door open, she had shoved her leather book under the cushions of the window seat and hurried downstairs to welcome her guests.
After hugs all around, greetings and excited questions, Meredith brought them upstairs.
"Oh, Merry, your room is so neat!" was Kitty's first remark as she looked around with obvious pleasure, thinking of the mess they had left of their own rooms at Cameron Hall.
Cara's clothes were usually deposited wherever they happened to land. The dressing table was cluttered with her combs, brushes, and cologne bottles, the mirror practically invisible behind invitations, old dance cards, Valentines.
When they were at home, the room was cleaned at least once a week by the maids, who grumbled about the untidiness, but the room they shared at Fern Grove was like a small shipwreck most of the time.
"It looks different somehow," commented Cara, noticing the new rose-flowered chintz curtains and matching slipcovers on the two wing chairs flanking the small fireplace where a cheerful fire glowed in the hearth.
"Mama had it redecorated for me while I was away at school," Meredith explained. "Let's sit down. I can't wait to hear everything!"
They flopped on her high, canopied bed and began chatting.
"Now tell us all about Peabody," urged Kitty. "We've been anxious to know all about it. Your letters didn't say much."
"That's because our letters are censored!"
"Not really!" the twins gasped in unison.
"Well, not exactly censored, but the Dean of Discipline has a list of approved correspondents, and all letters must first go to her office, so everyone's sure she reads them," Merry told them. "In fact, some of the girls I know have been called in and questioned about the addressees on some of their letters, since all incoming mail goes through her office, too."
"However have you and Manny managed to communicate?" asked Cara.
Meredith flushed to her hairline and put her finger to her lips. "If Mama should ever find out—"
Excited by the prospect of a romantic adventure involving someone as shy as Meredith, Cara leaned closer and whispered dramatically, "Your secret is safe with us, for pity's sake, Merry!"
All three huddled, heads close, as Meredith continued. "Well, one Saturday while we were visiting a museum in Boston, I had a chance to slip out from the group—"
"Yes, yes, go o n - " prodded Cara.
"Manny met me and we went to a little cafe—"
"What happened? What happened?"
"Nothing happened, but we did manage to arrange a way to write. I have a post office box in town, and one of the day students picks up his letters for me—"
"Oh, I can't stand it! It's so utterly romantic!" sighe
d Cara, grabbing one of the lacy pillows and hugging it to her.
"Hush, Cara." Kitty gave her twin a disapproving glance. "Aren't you afraid you'll get caught, Merry?"
"Not really," she replied, her big eyes unusually bright. "Of course, I don't know what would happen if Mama ever found out."
As if on cue, there was a light tap on the bedroom door. Then it opened and Mrs. Montrose peeked in, a slight frown on her pale face. "Oh, I didn't realize you had company, dear. Hello, twins. I wasn't aware you'd come home for the holidays."
She nodded to Kitty and Cara, who slipped off the bed at her entrance and stood while they answered her polite questions about school and family. This completed, Mrs. Montrose turned to leave.
Meredith, looking anxious, put her hand on her mother's arm. "Did you want something, Mama?"
"No, dear, I just wondered what all the noise was about. I was lying down and—" Her voice trailed off weakly.
"Oh, did we disturb you? I'm so sorry, Mama."
The twins exchanged a knowing glance.
"That's all right, dear. I've taken something for my headache. . . . If you will, though, could you lower your voices a little?"
"Of course, Mama."
The door closed, and for a moment all three were silent.
"Don't worry. She couldn't possibly have heard what we were saying," Cara reassured Meredith.
"Now, tell us about school," prompted Kitty.
As Merry began a detailed account of life at the Massachusetts women's college, Cara's mind drifted a little. Who would have thought that docile, compliant Meredith would have a secret rendezvous with her love and carry on a clandestine correspondence? It was daring, even reckless of her, risking not only her parents' disapproval, but probable expulsion from the strict institution she attended. Remembering again the rigid rules, Cara viewed Meredith with new respect.
Following Meredith's recitation, Cara's reaction was immediate. "Whew!" Everything in her free spirit rebelled against such confinement. "From what you're telling us, it's easy to see that the powers-that-be don't give you much time for fun."
"Couldn't you persuade your parents to let you transfer to Fern Grove?" Kitty asked sympathetically.
"Well, naturally, that thought has crossed my mind a lot." Merry sighed. "But Mama seems to think . . . it's just her opinion, you know . . . that I'll get a better education at a northern college."
"And for what?" demanded Cara, suddenly disgusted. "I mean, what will any of us do with our educations?"
Merry looked startled and glanced at Kitty who attempted an answer. "Well, I guess we could always . . . teach?"
Cara jumped off the bed and moved restlessly around the room. "And who wants to teach?" She went to the window and looked out. "I know what I'd really like to do, what I'd really like to be studying—" But before she could finish, she broke off, leaned closer to the window, and announced, "Here comes Kip, and Scot's with him!" She turned, her mood instantly brighter. "Come on, le's go down and say hello!"
Cara was out of the room in a flash, the other two following more slowly. At the top of the stairs, Kitty hesitated, expecting to feel self-conscious about seeing Kip again for the first time since summer. Whether or not the incident meant anything to him, she had not been able to forget that magic moonlight kiss. It didn't matter that he had thought she was Cara; the thrill she had experienced had lingered because even before that moment, she had been in love with Kip.
From where she and Meredith stood, Kitty could see down into the front hall just as the door opened and the two young men burst into the house. She watched as Cara ran to meet Kip, saw him clasp both her hands and swing her about, their acrimonious parting of last summer apparently forgotten.
Then suddenly Kip looked up and, catching sight of her, waved.
"Come on, Kitty," said Meredith, taking her hand and starting down the steps.
Kip was handsomer than ever, Kitty saw. Now standing over six feet, he had the lithe build of a natural athlete. But Kip had more than good looks. He had a kind of casual charm and easy good manners so that his Harvard classmates had jokingly dubbed him "our resident Southern gentleman." It was all true, Kitty thought rather wistfully. No wonder half the girls in Mayfield were mad about him.
Seeing Cara chatting animatedly with Kip, Kitty thought how "right" they looked together, then realized it was like looking at herself standing there with Kip!
As she and Meredith joined them, Scott smiled. "What have you three ladies been up to?"
Before either could answer, Cara said flippantly, "What do you think we were talking about? Men? How attractive and irresistible you are?"
"That's possible." Scott shrugged, still smiling.
"Well, you're wrong, big brother," she retorted. "We were talking about how unfair life is for women, with so few opportunities to explore our talents and abilities!" she retorted.
At that, Meredith looked startled. "That's not exactly true, Cara."
Cara brushed off the correction with a smile, then linked arms with Kip as they all moved into the drawing room. "So, Kip, have you made the Dean's list yet?"
"That'll be the day." He laughed. "Scott's the scholar—and Owen, of course."
"Speaking of Owen," Scott spoke up, "he's going to be in Arbordale next week to help out with the special Christmas services at Trinity Church."
Trying to keep her composure, Cara asked, "Will he be coming over here?"
"I doubt if the Rector will give him much time off," Scott continued. "I understand that the Reverend Cranston is somewhat of a benevolent tyrant, fussy as an old hen that everything be done according to law and liturgy. My guess is that he'll keep Owen hopping the whole time . . . at least, for Christmas week. But maybe we can entice him over here for our New Year's Eve party and open house."
"Is he staying at the rectory, then?" asked Cara with careful indifference.
"No, actually, he has an aunt and uncle who live in Arbordale. I think he'll be staying with them," Scott said offhandedly, then turned to Meredith. "So how do you like college life?"
For the next few minutes the conversation became an exchange of "tall tales," each trying to top the other. Then Kip suggested that Merry go out to the kitchen to see if she could rattle up some refreshments.
"I definitely smelled gingerbread when we walked into the house, didn't you, Scott?"
When Meredith disappeared, Scott and Kitty got into a discussion about the new hunter their father had recently purchased on his last trip to Ireland, from his friend Dan McShane's horse farm near Dublin.
Kip turned to Cara. "Want to go riding tomorrow?"
"We're going to look for greens and holly to decorate the house, but you can come along if you like. You always were good at climbing trees. We'll put you to work cutting mistletoe."
"With the appropriate reward if I do a good job, I trust."
"Come and find out!" she said as she sat down at the piano and strummed a few chords.
"That's an offer I can't refuse." Walking over behind her, Kip gave the piano stool a strong push, sending Cara spinning around.
She threw back her head, laughing. "Stop, stop! You're making me dizzy!"
"I always have that effect on young ladies."
"What conceit!" Cara jumped up, picked up a pillow, and began chasing Kip around the room, batting him with it as he ran. Kip slid a chair in front of her to block the way, then ducked behind the sofa to miss the pillow she flung at him.
"Hey, you two, stop clowning!" ordered Scott. "Want to get us all thrown out for disorderly conduct?"
Just then, Meredith came back into the room with a tray. She set it down on a table, and everyone gathered around to help themselves to mugs of fresh apple cider. After a last pantomimed attack and defense, Cara and Kip collapsed on the sofa, side by side, breathless and laughing.
"My goal for this holiday is to talk my father into buying an automobile," Kip announced, helping himself to a large, still-warm square of gingerbread.
"Don't mention them around my father," said Scott. "He thinks that motor cars are an abomination."
"Well, naturally, he would, being a horse breeder. But they're the coming thing, you can't deny that. I mean, some of them can travel as fast as twenty miles per hour—"
Even Scott seemed impressed.
"Really?" Cara sounded excited. "If you do convince your father, will you take me for a ride? In fact, I'd like to learn to drive one myself."
"Ha!" scoffed Scott. "You do enough damage to Mayfield roads on horseback. No telling what you'd do if you tried driving a high-powered gasoline engine vehicle."
Pointedly ignoring her brother's remark, Cara turned back to Kip. "Do they really go that fast?"
"You bet! I've driven one," Kip declared loftily. "I tried one out when I was visiting Jed Hastings at his home in New York. He got one for his birthday."
At that, there was a collective groan of disbelief that Kip countered with a superior smile. "Can I help it if my roommate is a millionaire's son?"
"Oh, those Harvard men!" teased Cara.
"What do you know about Harvard men?" demanded Kip belligerently.
"All I need to know or want to know, for that matter!" she retorted airily.
"You couldn't! You haven't met any . . . except me!" flung back Kip.
"That's enough for me if you're any example—full of themselves, incredibly arrogant, believe they're God's gift to women!"
"A lot you know about it. You wouldn't even come to the dances I invited you to," said Kip, beginning to sound sullen.
"Well, I was invited to VMI, where all real Virginians go . . . or to the University of William and Mary—not some stuck-up Yankee college!"
"You don't know what you're talking about!"
"I know a great deal more than you think I do!"
Scott held up both hands. "Peace, peace. Tis the season to be jolly, or at the very least, civil. Cut it out, twin," he said to Cara sharply.