by Judith Gould
No, she thought idly. I was never the girl she wanted and haven't become the woman she wanted me to be. But then, I never really felt that I belonged here or that I was even an important part of life here.
There had been a time when she would have given anything to fit in with these people and what most thought was their fabulous lifestyle. She'd really struggled to be the daughter her mother and father wanted her to be.
But no more. I don't want to live like them. I want to live my own life, the way I want to live it. I want to be me.
It sounded so simple, she thought, but she'd found it very difficult to break the bonds. It had been hard to see the disappointment on her parents' faces, to hear the recrimination in their voices, to deal with the constant pressures that they exerted on her. But despite all the battles, she was finally living her life in a way that she found fulfilling.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the tinkling of her mother's laughter and the sound of Teddy's doting voice. She took a sip of her drink and sighed. Might as well go face the music, she decided. She retraced her steps downstairs.
Teddy and Marguerite were standing in the marble- floored entrance hall, drinks in hand, and looked up at her as she came down the stairs.
"Hi, you two," Valerie said cheerfully.
"Hello, dear," Marguerite said, her eyes sweeping appraisingly over her daughter's appearance. She offered up a cheek for a kiss.
"It's good to see you, Mother," Valerie said.
"I'm glad you could fit me into your busy schedule," Marguerite said with a light laugh.
Valerie didn't reply, but kept a smile fixed on her face.
"Hi," Teddy said, brushing her lips with his, then putting an arm around her shoulders and hugging her to him. "We've been out looking at the garden," he said unnecessarily. "It's incredible what your mother does practically by herself."
"Oh, Teddy," Marguerite said, "you don't have to humor me. I know it's a disaster, but what can one do?" She spied Effie out of the corner of her eye. "Oh, look," she said, "Effie's ready to serve. Shall we go in?"
"Let's," Teddy said, offering Marguerite his arm. She took it, and he winked at Valerie. "Can you manage?" he asked.
"It's twenty or thirty feet, but I think I can manage it," Valerie joked.
Darkness had descended outside, and in Marguerite's dining room the silver and crystal sparkled in the candlelight. They had finished Effie's delicious feast of chilled avocado and cucumber soup, tiny stuffed Cornish game hens grilled with a ginger and plum sauce, fresh asparagus drizzled with Hollandaise sauce, wild rice with Portobello mushrooms, and a salad of micro-arugula, endive, radicchio, and baby oak with a balsamic vinaigrette. She had just served the dessert, homemade ginger ice cream topped with fresh organically grown strawberries and raspberries smothered in a syrupy kirsch sauce.
"Thanks, Effie," Teddy said, "this looks delicious. Everything was really wonderful."
"Thank you, sir," Effie replied as she headed back into the kitchen.
"She never ceases to amaze me," Valerie said appreciatively. "I don't know how she does it. Cooking and cleaning and—"
"She is good," Marguerite interjected, "but I'm trying to teach her to rely less on sauces. They're so awfully rich, don't you think?" She glanced at Teddy speculatively, and he didn't disappoint her.
"Everything was very rich," he readily agreed. "You certainly couldn't eat like this all the time."
"Indeed not," Marguerite said. "It would spell certain ruin for both your health and your figure. And as for her cleaning, Val, dear"—Marguerite looked at her daughter pointedly and shrugged—"well, she barely hits the high spots with a feather duster anymore. I do think it's awfully sweet of you to be so loyal to her, but I sometimes think that Effie is taking advantage of me."
"Oh, Mother," Valerie burst out in barely concealed astonishment. "Effie's devoted herself to you for over forty years. I hardly think that if she slows down a little bit at her age, you should call that taking advantage of you."
Marguerite haughtily ignored her daughter's outburst entirely. She turned her attention back to Teddy. "The wine was divine," she said, "and perfect with this meal."
"Why, thank you, Marguerite," he said. "I have a fairly good cellar now, but it'll take a long time and a lot more money to get it where I want it. The Puligny Montrachet was a ..."
Valerie withdrew into herself, eating the ice cream and berries and watching the easy exchanges between her mother and Teddy. He's just her type, she thought somewhat resentfully. Handsome, rich, and charming to boot. But equally as important was that Teddy came from the same background and class that they did. Her marriage to him would be considered an alliance between two descendants of the same gloriously aristocratic French Huguenot heritage, and any foibles he might have would be overlooked by her mother because of that illustrious background. Her father, she knew, would agree wholeheartedly about Teddy. Valerie, while not disrespecting her lineage, held it in no particular regard. It seemed so remote in time and meaning to her that she really never gave it a thought.
It's no wonder she and Teddy get along so well, Valerie thought, nibbling on the kirsch-soaked berries. He's as much of a snob about his lineage as she is. Too bad Mother's not younger.
She saw Marguerite adjust one of the cabochon emeralds at her ears and regarded her more closely.
Despite the resentments she harbored toward her mother, Valerie had to admit that Marguerite Louise de Coligny de la Rochelle was a woman every bit as formidable as her name implied. Even though she was sixty-five years old, she had a flawless and creamy, if subtly lined, complexion. She had prominent, elegant cheekbones, a high forehead, a straight nose, and wide lips that were just full enough. Her silvery hair, even white teeth, trim figure, and immaculate grooming made her seem almost ageless.
Her vanity about her appearance had always astounded Valerie. Her mother spent hours at the dressmaker's, choosing fabrics and being fitted, as she had all of her clothes custom made. They were usually faithful and expensive copies of Chanel and other great designers. Then she spent hours with the hairdresser, the pedicurist, the manicurist, and untold time at home grooming, grooming, grooming. She went to bed slathered virtually from head to toe in some lotion or other, and never permitted the bright sun to touch her skin.
Yet Marguerite had told Valerie she would never submit to the surgeon's knife or dye her hair. She considered women who did beneath her, contemptible really, slaves to unintelligent and ill-formed notions about beauty. These poor women, willing victims, she averred, were products of the brash, tacky, and utterly tasteless view of beauty promulgated by an aesthetically impoverished mass media.
"Valerie, my dear!"
Marguerite's cultured voice interrupted her reverie. She found her mother staring at her quizzically.
"I'm sorry," Valerie said. "I missed what you were saying."
"You haven't been paying any attention to us, dear," Marguerite said in a chiding manner. The emerald on the finger she pointed accusingly at Valerie glinted in the light. "How like you. We were discussing Teddy's business, Val. Something I should think you would take an interest in. He's been having a wonderful year with the stock market."
"Oh," Valerie said, "that's great, Teddy." She wondered why he never discussed his business with her.
Teddy smiled indulgently, as if Valerie couldn't possibly be capable of comprehending the complexities of this business-related conversation.
"You're so clever, Teddy," Marguerite enthused, "and I think you're to be congratulated."
"Well, trading definitely has its ups and downs," Teddy replied. "But I have had an extraordinarily good run recently. Of course, the way the market's been lately, Marguerite, who wouldn't?"
"Yes," she allowed, "but not everyone knows how to take advantage of it the way you do, Teddy. I guess bloodlines always tell, don't they? It's all in the genes."
Teddy laughed. "Maybe," he said. "But I doubt if I'll ever be the investment guru my father
was."
Marguerite tinkled laughter. "Well, my dear, I think your father would be very proud of you."
"Well, thank you," Teddy said with an amiability that he didn't feel. He really didn't know or care what the late, great Theodore de Mornay would have thought. He'd hated the son of a bitch while he was alive and had grown to like him no more in death. The same with his mother, Claudine, who'd been nothing more than an apparition to him, coming and going in ball gowns, jewels, and expensive perfumes before spending the last of her fifty-odd years a virtual prisoner in her own bedroom, addicted to prescription drugs and alcohol.
"I wish Dockering Wainwright did so well by me," Marguerite said, worrying the emeralds at her neck with long slender fingers. She looked over at Valerie. The significance of the look was not lost on her daughter.
Valerie cleared her throat and placed a smile on her lips. "Dock's been handling your affairs forever, Mother," she said, "and he seems to have done a fine job. Dad always thought so," she added. She looked at Teddy. "That's not to say you wouldn't, Teddy, but Dad always had Dock do it. . . and, well ..."
"I wouldn't think of encroaching on the great Dockering Wainwright's territory," Teddy quickly interrupted. "I'm sure he's a great investment advisor."
"Nevertheless," Marguerite said, "he certainly doesn't seem to get your results, Teddy. If you ask me, he's half asleep at the wheel."
"I think Dock's on top of things," Valerie said. "He may be old-fashioned and conservative, certainly he's not a risk taker, but he's astute and dependable nonetheless."
"Is he?" Marguerite asked. "I may be an old woman who knows very little about these things," she continued in an overweeningly self-deprecating manner, "but it seems to me that my little portfolio has hardly grown in value at all. Needless to say, it naturally follows that my dividends haven't either. And in a market that everybody knows is going great guns. Why, half the real estate sold around here is for cash! Total asking price, if not more. It's all these smart young men like Teddy from New York." She paused and looked directly at her daughter.
"Maybe you're right, Mother," Valerie conceded, "but I've never heard a complaint against Dock." She looked directly at her mother then. "Anyway, it's really not for me to decide who handles your affairs, is it?"
"No," Marguerite said, "it certainly is not." Her focus shifted back to Teddy again. "I think it's high time I gave old Dock a little goose," she said. "I suppose we all get a little complacent at times, don't we?"
"It's easy to do," Teddy said. "Especially when it's not your own money you're handling. Or if you don't have some sort of special interest in your client's welfare."
"Well said, Teddy," Marguerite pronounced. "I'll get on the telephone to Dock tomorrow, then give you a call to let you know what he has to say for himself. If that's okay with you, that is."
"Of course, Marguerite," Teddy replied. "I think it's a sound idea."
"Good, that's settled, then," Marguerite said. She took a sip of water, the huge emerald on her finger catching the light again, then set the glass down and turned the full wattage of her gaze on Valerie. "Valerie, my dear," she said, "I think there's something you haven't told me."
"Told you?" Valerie knew right away what her mother was talking about, but she decided to play dumb. She knew it would antagonize Marguerite if she didn't give her the satisfaction of an immediate answer. She also knew that she was being petty, but she decided to make her mother weasel the answer out of her. That would punish her and Teddy for discussing the engagement ring behind her back. "What's that, Mother?" she asked. "What haven't I told you?"
Marguerite's eyes took on a steely expression, but it was fleeting and quickly replaced by a laugh of amusement. "Valerie, my dear," she said, "you've been working far too hard with those filthy beasts. I can't think what else would make you forget something so important."
Teddy cleared his throat and smiled. "Val," he said, "she might be referring to a little something that happened over the weekend. Remember?"
Valerie decided to quit playing her little game. "Oh!" she cried. "How could I!" She looked at Teddy, who smiled endearingly at her. "Oh, Teddy, I'm sorry," she said. "I feel like such an idiot."
"Don't worry about it," he said good-naturedly.
Valerie glanced over at her mother. "Teddy and I . . . we ... he gave me an engagement ring last weekend," she finally managed. She couldn't bring herself to say, We're engaged.
"Splendid," Marguerite pronounced, as if surprised. "Absolutely splendid." She reached over and touched her daughter's hand. "I'm so pleased for you," she said. Then she reached over and patted Teddy's hand. "Both of you. It's wonderful news."
Valerie nodded. "I'm glad you're happy, Mother," she said in a quiet voice.
"You must show me your ring, Val, dear," Marguerite said.
"Uh, well," Valerie sputtered, feeling herself blush hotly. "Oh, I... I forgot to put it on."
"You what!" Marguerite exclaimed. She stared at her daughter in disbelief.
"Oh, Val," Teddy groaned. "I noticed you weren't wearing it, but I thought that surely you had it tucked away in your handbag or someplace to surprise your mother."
"I'm sorry," Valerie murmured. "I was in such a rush to change clothes and get here after work, and besides"—she shrugged and smiled—"I'm just not used to it yet."
"No harm done," Teddy said in a forgiving voice.
Valerie turned to her mother. "It's really beautiful, Mother," she said. "And huge! You'll love it. I promise to come by with it one day this week after work."
"I do hope so," Marguerite said, not adding that Teddy had shown her the ring the day he'd bought it. "Teddy's made such an effort on your behalf, and I should think you'd be terribly happy with so generous a gift."
"I. . . I've just been so busy and everything," Valerie said. "I was on call at the clinic this weekend, and there was an emergency. And—"
"That clinic," Marguerite said with a frown of distaste. "It's always that clinic. I knew it. You spend far too much time there. And what sort of emergency could possibly make you forget you'd become engaged?" She looked at her daughter questioningly.
"Stonelair," Teddy said grimly, not giving Valerie the opportunity to answer for herself. "The mystery man."
"Oh, dear, no," Marguerite said, visibly shaken. "Don't tell me you've been out to that dreadful place, Val, dear. I've been told on the best authority that he's some sort of drug baron or something. Is it true?"
Valerie shrugged. "Who knows?" she replied. "I was taking care of a sick horse. I didn't even meet the man." She paused, then added jocularly: "But I didn't see mountains of drugs or guns or anything."
No one laughed.
"Well," Marguerite said in her most indignant voice, "it seems to me it would almost have to be drugs or something equally disgusting to support a place like that. Not even the young Wall Street tycoons that are buying everything in sight around here could afford that place." She paused, looking at her daughter significantly. "Besides," she continued, "nobody of any importance knows him as far as I know. And he's so secretive that I'm certain something evil is going on out there."
"I don't know anything about any of the gossip you've heard," Valerie countered defiantly, "but they've asked me to take care of all their animals. Personally."
"Oh, dear," Marguerite said, her eyes widening in alarm.
"You're surely not thinking of taking them up on their offer," Teddy said.
Valerie didn't answer him at once.
"Well, you're not, are you?" he prodded.
"I don't know yet," Valerie replied. But it was at that precise moment that she made up her mind to accept Conrad's offer and become Stonelair's exclusive veterinarian. She would make certain to discuss it with the clinic staff tomorrow.
"You don't know yet?" Marguerite parroted. "I must say I'm surprised by your cavalier attitude. I shouldn't think you would even entertain the notion." Her voice and demeanor were disdainful in the extreme. "He must be some sort of
horribly evil Mafioso or some such thing. Why, I'm told that the beastly man has turned down every invitation that's been extended to him."
"What's so evil about that?" Valerie asked. "I mean, how does that make him a drug lord or Mafioso? Maybe he just doesn't like to mingle."
"Well, it makes him antisocial if nothing else," Marguerite said. "Which is highly suspicious, if you ask me."
"I haven't seen the place," Teddy interjected, "but I've talked to a couple of local guys who've been in there to do work. From what they say, the guy's spent millions on the place. Brought all the labor from down south, Florida or someplace. He sure seems to have bottomless pockets. I know that I couldn't even begin to do what he's done to that place."
Valerie had been watching Teddy, and she couldn't help but detect the somewhat cocky manner he assumed when he felt bested. Nor did she miss the distinct note of resentment in his voice. He's jealous of Conrad, she realized. Jealous of his money, if nothing else.
"Well, enough said about such an unsavory and frightening subject," Marguerite announced. "Let's have coffee on the porch, shall we? It's lovely out." She smiled at them both.
"Just what the doctor ordered," Teddy said.
Marguerite rose, and Teddy followed suit, taking her arm to lead her out to the screened-in porch. Valerie trailed along behind them. Effie had already lit candles on the porch, and it looked invitingly casual after the formality of the dinner. Teddy saw Marguerite to her chair, and Valerie spread out on a big, comfortable, old wicker sofa.