“What do you mean?”
“When they fall for a woman they get very intense for a few weeks; it’s finally the great love at long last. But it quickly peters out. And they always like to surround themselves with extra girls, just in case. And anyway, Miles says there’s safety in numbers.”
Stevie smiled; how well her daughter knew her brothers. “He’s coming alone apparently, so it may well be over already.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Chloe murmured, and then looked from her mother to Cappi. “Did I interrupt anything? You were very deeply engrossed.”
“No, we were just planning the menus, going over a few things for the weekend. And actually we were just about finished when you came into the kitchen.”
Cappi said, “I’d better set the table for—”
“Oh, don’t bother,” Stevie cut in. “Let’s eat in the little sitting room tonight. It’s much cozier. Two trays in front of the fire will do us fine, thanks, Cappi.”
Later that evening they were halfway through dessert when Chloe put down her fork, looked at her mother, and said, “There’s something I want to talk to you about, Mom.”
“Yes, darling,” Stevie said, swiftly glancing at her daughter, noting the sudden tenseness of her voice. “Tell me.”
“It’s about next year, Mom. I mean about going to college after I graduate from Brearley. And, you see…” Chloe’s voice trailed off, and she gazed at her mother, biting her lip.
“What is it, Chloe?”
“I really don’t want to go…I mean go to college.”
Stevie sat up a little straighter and stared at her daughter. “Do you mean you don’t want to go to college here in America? Or college anywhere?”
“Correct, Mom! I don’t want to go to college.”
“Not even to Oxford? You talked about that so much, and you always sounded very excited. Why, only a few months ago you said you couldn’t wait to go there.”
“I know. But I’ve changed my mind. I’d prefer to go into the jewelry business, Mom. I want to work at Jardine’s.”
Stevie was genuinely surprised by this announcement, even though she had always known her daughter liked the store in New York. She said cautiously, “I like the idea of you working with me at Jardine’s, but I still want you to attend university. You can come into the business with me when you’re twenty-one or twenty-two.”
Chloe shook her head vehemently. “Honestly, Mom, I really don’t want to go to college. What’s the point, when I want to go to work. Surely you of all people understand that. You work like a dog and enjoy every minute of it.”
“That’s true, I do. And I understand everything you’re saying, but nevertheless, I would like you to finish your education. It’s important, Chloe.”
“You didn’t go to college.”
“I wish I had.”
“What could you have learned at college? About the jewelry business, I mean. Nothing. And look how successful you’ve been. You’re a terrific businesswoman, you know all about diamonds and other precious stones. You’re…well…Gideon says you’re a legend in the business. Not going to college didn’t hurt you, or stop you from becoming what you are.”
“True. But then again, I learned a lot from Ralph in the early years of our marriage. And later I had Bruce to teach me. Working with him was like going to several universities. He was the greatest professor there was, and so was Uncle André. I learned a lot from him as well.”
“And I can learn a lot from Gideon in London. That’s where I want to go, Mom, I want to go to London and work with Gideon at the Bond Street store.”
Stevie was taken aback by this statement, and for a moment she made no response. Then she said slowly, a little hesitantly, “But why wouldn’t you want to work with me in New York? I don’t understand…” She did not finish her sentence, just sat staring at her daughter through baffled eyes.
Chloe said quickly, “Oh, Mom, I’d love to work with you in New York. Eventually. But I want to start out in London because Gideon is such a great lapidary and he could teach me so much. And besides, the London workshops are much bigger than the one in New York. I just think I’d get better training there, and Old Bruce is there. I mean, I know he’s semiretired and all that, but he does go to the store twice a week, and, well, I mean, he could teach me a lot, just like he taught you.”
“I see.”
“Are you angry, Mom?”
Stevie shook her head.
“Yes, you are, I can tell. Please don’t be cross with me, Mom. Please.”
“I’m not angry; really, I’m not, Chloe.”
“Then what?”
“Disappointed, I suppose.”
“Because I don’t want to go to college?”
“Yes, there’s that. But I’m also disappointed that you don’t want to work with me in New York. Of course, the workshops are much larger in London, that’s true. But ours is not so bad, you know. And we do have Marc Sylvester and several wonderful lapidaries at the Fifth Avenue store. They could teach you just as much as you’d learn in London.”
“But I want to learn from Gideon.”
“I know you’ve always been close to him.”
“I’m closer to Miles actually, Mom, but I love Gideon and he’s a good teacher. He’s taught me a few things about jewelry already when I’ve gone to see him at the workshops during vacations.”
“He’s certainly patient and painstaking, and a bit of a perfectionist, so I have to believe you when you say he’s a good teacher. Yes, I can see that aspect of him.” Stevie gave her daughter a long, speculative look, and then asked quietly, “Have you discussed this with Gideon already?”
Chloe shook her head. “Oh, no, Mommy, I haven’t! I wouldn’t do that, not before talking to you.” Chloe leaned forward, her young face expectant and eager. “Can I go, then?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about this. It’s a big step for you, going to live in London. Alone.”
“But Mother, I wouldn’t be alone. I’ve got two brothers and a sister-in-law there, plus Old Bruce. And my grandparents. Blair and Derek would keep an eye on me for you.”
“If I agreed, and it is an if, I’d want someone to do much more than keep an eye on you, Chloe. You’d have to live with a member of the family.”
Chloe was immediately crestfallen on hearing this, and it showed on her face. “You mean I can’t live in your flat in Eaton Square?”
“Certainly not. There’s no one there to look after you.”
“There’s Gladys.”
“Gladys comes in only a few times a week to clean. No, no, that would be out of the question, if I agreed to this plan of yours.”
“I could live with Gideon. He’d love it.”
“Nonsense. He’d hate it. A single man of twenty-seven who has legions of women friends, according to you, wouldn’t want his baby sister for a roommate. It would cramp his style no end.”
“Nigel would have me. He’s married, and Tamara likes me a lot.”
“Yes, I know she does. But once again, it wouldn’t be suitable. They’re practically newly-weds; they wouldn’t want you around.”
“Oh, Mom, they have two kids!”
Stevie bit back a smile, amused by Chloe’s logic, then she said, “Even so, a young couple like Nigel and Tamara don’t need the responsibility of looking after you. They have their hands full as it is.”
“I wouldn’t want to live at Old Bruce’s house in Wilton Crescent, if that’s what you’re thinking. That place is so gloomy, it would be like being in prison. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you, Mom?”
“I haven’t agreed that you can go, Chloe.”
“Grandma would let me live with her and Derek, and you know they love me…a lot,” Chloe volunteered.
“Yes, they do. But you’re putting the cart before the horse. I have to think about this matter, and at great length. I’m certainly not going to make any hasty decisions.”
“When will you decide?”
“I don’t know.”
“But, Mommy—”
“No buts, darling,” Stevie interrupted. “You’ve told me what you’d prefer to do, and now I must give it some thought. I want you to think about it as well, Chloe. Think about what you’d be missing by not going to university. Think about those three years at Oxford and all that they would mean. Not just the education you’d get, but the fun you’d have, and the people you’d meet. Friends you make at university are your friends for the rest of your life. And I must admit, Chloe, I’m a bit baffled; you were always so keen about studying at Oxford. What happened?”
“I’ve changed my mind, Mom.”
“Promise me you’ll think about this.”
“Oh, all right,” Chloe muttered, looking suddenly put out.
Stevie glanced at her quickly and said in a sharp tone of voice, “Don’t sound so grudging about it, Chloe. It doesn’t become you one little bit.”
Chloe flushed at this chastisement, mild as it was, and bit her lip. Then, pushing the tray table away, she jumped up and sat next to Stevie on the sofa.
Taking hold of her mother’s hand, she squeezed it, then reached up and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t be angry with me, Mommy.”
Observing her daughter’s worried expression and detecting the concern in her eyes, Stevie murmured softly, “I’m not angry, Chloe, but I do want to do what’s best for you, and you must try to understand that. After all, you’ve obviously been thinking about this for some time, whilst I’ve just heard about it…so please, give me a few days to get used to the idea. And let me talk to Gideon. And my mother and Derek.”
Chloe nodded and her face brightened considerably as she exclaimed, “So you’re definitely not saying no?”
“No, of course not…” A faint smile surfaced on Stevie’s face. “I’m saying…maybe.”
Stevie had learned long before that when she couldn’t sleep it was far better to get up and keep busy, especially if she had a problem on her mind. To her way of thinking, it was much easier to worry when she was upright and moving around than when she was lying down.
She and Chloe had both gone upstairs to bed at eleven. Stevie had fallen asleep at once, lulled into a deep slumber by the two glasses of red wine she had drunk at dinner.
Then she had awakened suddenly several hours later, at three in the morning. Sleep had proved elusive thereafter; at four o’clock she had slipped out of bed, taken a shower, dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a sweater, and gone downstairs.
After making a cup of coffee and a slice of toast, Stevie had walked around the house, collecting her many orchid plants. These she had taken to the plant room next to the laundry; carefully, methodically, she had watered them individually in the big sink, letting the water run through each one, then slowly drain away.
Everyone knew she loved orchids, and so she frequently received them as gifts. In consequence, her collection was quite large; two or three dozen were scattered throughout this house, and there were more in her New York apartment.
Mostly they were various species of the Phalaenopsis, with white or yellow blooms, plus pale, blush-pink cymbidiums. She also collected the miniature slipper orchid with pale green or dark brown blooms, and the dark brownish-wine-colored Sharry Baby with its tiny flowers and delicious chocolate scent.
But of them all her real favorites were the white and yellow Phalaenopsis, and she did very well with them, making them last for months. The house was an ideal spot for them to grow, cool, and full of soft, muted light most of the time.
Now Stevie lifted a pot containing a yellow-blooming Phalaenopsis and carried it through into the sun room, where she returned it to its place.
Stepping back, her head to one side, she admired it for a moment, thinking how beautiful it looked, so elegant against the white walls and standing on the dark wood surface of the antique chest. This was positioned in a corner between two windows, and the orchid had the most perfect light there.
Stevie moved around the house for almost another hour, carrying the plants back to their given spots in different rooms, and then she poured herself a mug of coffee and went back to the solarium.
She stood in front of the French windows, warming her hands on the hot mug, sipping the coffee occasionally. Her eyes scanned the sky. It was cold and leaden, and she could tell already that it would be a gray day, bleak, overcast, sunless. Even the landscape had a bleak look to it, the trees bereft of leaves, the lawn covered with a sprinkling of white frost. Thanksgiving Day 1996 had not dawned very brightly.
Stevie turned away from the window. Seating herself on one of the large overstuffed sofas, she put the mug on the table in front of her and leaned back, resting her head against the soft cushion covered in a faded antique chintz.
What to do? What to do about Chloe? She was not sure. In fact, she was very uncertain, really. Her daughter had surprised and disappointed her when she had abruptly announced she did not want to go to university, most especially since she had been so gung-ho about attending Oxford. Stevie had always wanted Chloe to have a good education, to graduate with a college degree. The last thing she had expected was to hear her daughter express the desire to work at Jardine’s. There had never been any real indication on Chloe’s part that she was keen on the jewelry business, other than a passing interest in the New York store.
Admit it, she’s hurt you badly, wanting to work in London, a small voice at the back of her head whispered. And yes, that was the truth. Chloe’s words had been like a slap in the face.
Stevie knew that Chloe could learn everything in New York. There was no need for her to go to London. Jardine’s was the one store left on Fifth Avenue that had its own workshop on the second floor, and it was excellent. Marc Sylvester, her top lapidary, was brilliant, and Chloe could learn as much from him as she could from her brother Gideon, or Gilbert Drexel, the chief lapidary at the London shop.
Am I being selfish, wanting to keep her with me? Stevie asked herself. Possessive? Over-protective? If she was honest with herself, she had to admit it was a little bit of all three.
But then again, what mother didn’t want to keep her daughter by her side, and for as long as possible? And if not by her side, then at least in the same country. What Chloe wanted was not only to leave the nest, but fly away to distant shores.
Stevie let out a long sigh, thinking of her daughter. Chloe was only just eighteen, and she was so much younger in many different ways, more like fifteen, in fact. For one thing, she had led a very sheltered life, particularly when they had resided in London. She had been surrounded by family…her three brothers, and her grandparents, and had attended Lady Eden’s exclusive private school for young ladies as a day girl. The harsh everyday world had hardly penetrated her consciousness.
Even in the eight years they had lived in New York, Chloe’s life had been somewhat cloistered. She’ll never make it on her own, Stevie thought. She’ll be overwhelmed. She’s too sensitive, too delicate, and just far too young to be away from home, away from me. I’m going to say no. I must. I’m not going to let her go to England. She can go a year from now only if she is enrolled at Oxford.
It seemed to Stevie at that precise moment that a load had been lifted from her shoulders. Just making the decision was a blessed relief. The tight pain in her chest, which had been like a steel band since four o’clock that morning, was beginning to ease at last.
4
NO MATTER HOW BUSY SHE WAS, STEVIE ALWAYS found time at some point each day to write in her daily journal. And so that morning, while she waited for her mother, Derek, and Miles to arrive, she opened her current diary and wrote: Thanksgiving Day 1996: Connecticut, then sat staring at the page, lost in her thoughts.
She had kept a journal for years, most of her life, and there were volumes of them locked away in a cupboard at the other side of the upstairs study, where she now sat at the desk.
Thirty-four years had been recorded in them since her mother had presented her wit
h her first diary when she was twelve. That had been in 1962. It seemed very far away now; so much had happened to her in the intervening years. She had lived a lifetime and then some, or so it seemed to her.
Her first diary had had its own little lock and key and it had withstood the test of time very well; she had looked at it recently and been amazed that it had weathered the years so well. The paper was a bit yellowed at the edges, the ink faded on some pages, but that was the only damage, if you could even call it that.
On the whole, a miracle of preservation, Stevie thought, and put down her pen, sat back in the chair, her thoughts turning to her mother, who had also kept a diary most of her life. They had always been close, had had a symbiotic relationship when she was a child. Her father, Jerome Anderson, had not been the right husband for Blair, nor had he been a very good father, and this had brought her and her mother even closer together.
Newspaperman, ladies’ man, bon vivant, and man-about-town, Jerry had not been cut out for family life, and that was exactly what her mother had craved. Beautiful, glamorous, international supermodel Blair Connors had wanted only to be a wife and mother. She was the success she was because of her face and figure, the way she dominated the catwalk and made love to the camera. It was certainly not because of drive or ambition. Even at the height of her career she had wanted to stay at home and cook, raise children, be a housewife, a mother, and a good wife to the right man. Domesticity was her idea of bliss.
Derek Rayner, English classical actor par excellence, handsome matinee idol and movie star, had seemed such an unlikely candidate for the role Blair had cast him in all those years ago. The wrong man, as far as Blair’s friends were concerned.
But as it happened, he had been the right man, the perfect choice, the perfect mate. Blair and Derek had been married for over thirty years and still adored each other. Their only disappointment was that they had not had any children of their own. Perhaps that was one of the reasons they were inseparable, and Derek never went anywhere without his beautiful and accomplished wife.
Power of a Woman Page 4