Caprice (2 page)

characteristic of Ricky's was, however, that he both won and lost

with excellent sportsmanship, so they walked back to the kitchen for

iced tea in perfect harmony.

Back inside, and blinking against the darkened interior of the kitchen,

they at first didn't see Liz, who said, as if appearing from thin air,

'Your mother and father are meeting in the den for drinks at six, and

wanted to know if either of you are dining at home.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, Liz!' said Caprice breathlessly, while Ricky, too,

apologised. 'I'm eating in tonight, I forgot to tell you.'

'And I'm not,' said her brother, remorsefully. 'Does it mess up your

evening meal?'

'Lord, no,' said Liz, well used to such domestic crises.

Caprice and Ricky then headed for the stairs, to clean up. 'Going out

with someone?' asked Caprice interestedly, to which her brother

grinned.

'Yes, but not in the way you mean. Larry and I are hitting the town

tonight.'

'In other words,' she retorted with a laugh, 'you're bar hopping,

complete with fake ID, I've no doubt.'

'Hush!' he whispered conspiratorially, looking from left to right with

dancing eyes. 'You never know who might be listening.'

She stopped stock still on the second floor landing, and stared at him

with fascination. 'No!' she exclaimed. 'Really? You actually have a

fake ID? Where'd you get it? Can I see it?'

He took her to his room, and pulled out the identification from his

wallet, and she looked it over carefully. It certainly looked quite

legitimate, except for the fact that the birth date was set a few years

back. To her repeated question, he replied casually, as he stuffed it

back into his wallet, 'I got it through one of the fellows at school.

Everybody has them. The man who makes them, whoever he is,

makes a fortune, no two ways about that.'

She shrugged. 'As long as you're careful.'

Ricky stopped her with a hand on her arm. 'You wouldn't mention

this to Mom and Dad, would you?' he asked, searching her eyes.

'Good heavens, no! It's none of my business, unless you drive home

roaring drunk some night,' she said airily, dismissing his question

with a wave of her hand. 'But you're too levelheaded to do that, aren't

you?'

'God, yes,' he said with some grimness, as he let go of her. 'I may be

wild, extravagant, and utterly devastating to the opposite sex, but I

am
not
stupid.'

She glanced at him rather sharply. He was as dark as she was fair, but

they shared the same general facial characteristics, and he was indeed

quite handsome. She smiled and patted his lean cheek with

something of an absent air. 'That you're not, love.'

'No more than you, though you like to act it, sometimes,' he said,

unexpectedly shrewd. After searching his eyes, feeling slightly

troubled, she merely smiled again and left his bedroom. He shut his

door behind her sharply, after slapping her saucily in the rear.

With a glance flashed at her slim gold wristwatch, a graduation

present from her parents, she hurried to her own room to shower and

change out of her tennis outfit. As it was quite hot, with no breeze at

all outside to relieve the mugginess, she slipped on a sleeveless, light

blue blouse with a matching pencil-slim skirt and high-heeled

sandals. Her breasts were slight and firm, and so she could get away

without wearing a bra whenever she felt like it, her usual practice in

the summer heat. After brushing her damp hair and letting it hang

carelessly loose, she skipped lightly down the stairs and strode for

the den in long, easy, athletic paces.

'Hello, Mom, Dad!' she said breezily, stopping for a moment to press

a light kiss against her father's greying forehead and to receive one in

return. 'Did you both have a good day?'

'Hallo, dear. As good as can be expected,' said Irene, a slight-boned,

dark woman with a streak of silver threading her hair at each temple.

She was
a.
woman with a placid nature, whose life revolved around

the social gatherings and charity functions she was so fond of.

'Huh,' grunted her father. 'Speak for yourself, Irene. Every damned

thing went wrong at the office today. Stupid Witcomb screwed up his

account.'

Caprice grinned. Stupid Witcomb was her father's favourite

complaint. She sometimes thought that he kept Witcomb around just

so that he had something to complain about. The three talked for a

little while, sporadically, and her father made her a drink of Bacardi

and Coke, with lime. Then Ricky came into the den for a short time,

until Larry came to pick him up, and after a flurry of goodbyes and

the slam of the front door, things quietened considerably.

When they went in to supper, Caprice said, just remembering, 'Oh,

yes. Roxanne and I are going to the Langstons' for the weekend,

unless I've managed to forget some vastly important event?'

Her mother thought for a moment. 'No, dear,' she said then.

'Nothing's happening that I know of. Is it to be a party?'

'From what I gather,' she said airily. 'It's to be at their lodge in New

England. Roxanne says the place is something else.'

'That's what I've heard, too,' said Irene, with some smugness. 'You

should be glad you're going.' She sent a dry look at her father at that,

which her mother luckily did not catch. 'But didn't you say something

about avoiding Jeffrey for a while?'

She then frowned for a moment, a tiny furrow appearing between her

brows which was gone the next second like a cloud passing by on a

sunny day. 'Yes, I did,' she admitted, while she worked on her spicy,

sauce-covered veal. 'He's entirely too obvious for my taste. But

Roxanne is crazy about him. I'm afraid she might get into something

she can't handle if she were to go by herself.'

'Something she can't handle?' grunted her father.

She shrugged. 'She's crazy about him, but he isn't crazy about her. If

he plays around with her, she might end up getting quite hurt.'

Richard Senior frowned. 'Would young Langston do that?'

She looked to her father and a slow, sweet smile spread across her

lips. 'Not if I'm there,' she said.

After a blank moment, he took a bite of veal and then asked, 'Do you

mean you plan on keeping an eye on your young girl friend for the

whole blasted weekend?'

'Oh no,' she replied, with a little laugh. 'I mean that, if I'm there,

Jeffrey won't be paying an inordinate amount of attention to

Roxanne.'

'You see,' said Irene, exasperated with her obtuse husband, 'Roxanne

is crazy about Jeffrey, but Jeffrey is crazy about Caprice.'

Caprice had forsaken alcohol during the course of supper, and she

reached for her iced waters feeling the slick wetness of the sweating

glass as she raised the cold drink to her lips. 'Entirely too obvious,'

she repeated, not without a sneaking degree of satisfaction.

'And who's chaperoning this weekend fling?' asked her father.

She shook her silver blonde head. 'I haven't the faintest idea. I would

think it's quite respectable, knowing the Langston family. I wouldn't

put anything past Jeffrey, but his parents surely wouldn't let him have

the full use of the lodge unquestioned. Someone will undoubtedly be

there.'

'Langston,' mused Richard, idly. 'What's the older Langston boy

doing?'

Caprice didn't know, but Irene did and said, 'I think he's managing

the New York branch of the family business now. And he's hardly a

boy, dear. Heavens, he must be close to thirty by now.'

'I never met an older brother,' Caprice said then. 'What's his name?'

'Pierce, I believe,' replied her mother, absently. 'And it's really not

surprising you haven't met him, dear. Not really your age group, is

he?'.

The next day, Caprice received a phone call from Roxanne, who

wanted to make plans for the weekend. She listened as the other girl

chattered about flights from Byrd Field, but then interrupted gently.

'Rox, I don't want to fly.' She made her voice sound slightly plaintive.

A pause. 'What, did you want to drive up? Really, Cap, it would be

much easier to just get that flight out of Richmond, and much

quicker, too.'

'Yes, you're right of course,' she replied immediately.

The satisfaction was evident in the other girl's voice. 'So shall I book

two flights on Friday for us?'

Flying would be much easier, but it would also leave them trapped

for the entire weekend without independent transportation, and she

said slowly, 'No, I don't think so. Thanks anyway.'

Swift alarm now, in Roxanne's voice. 'What do you mean? You

haven't changed your mind about going, have you?'

Caprice smiled at the hall stairs, where she happened to be staring.

'You go ahead and book a flight for yourself,' she replied,

understanding^. 'I believe I'm going to drive.'

Friday dawned bright and clear. She had her suitcase already packed,

so, -after dressing in khaki shorts and a rich cream sleeveless shirt, it

was a simple matter of running downstairs to sit down at the light

breakfast Liz prepared for her, and then throwing her suitcase in the

back of the Porsche. The day was already quite hot, so she took out

the sun roof before leaving the driveway, and about fifteeen minutes

later she was pulling up at her friend's house and leaning on her horn.

For a few moments the front door didn't budge an inch, and then it

exploded open with the force of Roxanne's exuberant exit. The

brunette skipped down the steps lightly, suitcase in hand, and was in

obviously better spirits than she had been when Caprice had last

talked with her.

'I decided to forgive you,' said Roxanne with a puff, as she tossed her

suitcase along with Caprice's.

'That's very generous of you. Get in. Forgive me for what, though? I

think I've forgotten.'

'For driving, idiot. You knew I wouldn't fly without you.' Roxanne

climbed in and ran a covetous hand over the passenger seat. The

brunette had been frankly envious of Caprice's car ever since her

father had given it to her for her twenty-first birthday.

'Yes, well, it's a lovely day, and we're going to have a marvellous

time,' said Caprice a bit absently, as she backed out of the driveway.

'I hope you didn't forget the map?'

'Of course not.' Roxanne patted her handbag complacently. 'It's right

here, never fear.'

'That's good,' Caprice replied cheerfully, as she pressed down the

accelerator and the car gained speed. Hot wind whipped through her

hair. 'I hope you can read it. I never could make sense out of a map.'

Later that day, Caprice looked out of her bedroom window at the lush

wooded greenery that surrounded the Langstons' large house. Lodge

was scarcely the word for it; it was nearly as big as her own family's

house, and this was used only for holidays. She shook her head. Her

family was what one might call rich, but this was a totally different

meaning to the word.

She and Roxanne did have a lovely drive north, arriving with sunny

spirits, a bit of glow on their noses and arms from the open sun roof,

and windblown hair. They found Jeffrey's parents in residence, along

with several of the weekend guests who had already arrived, so the

house was lively, with the promise of a party and dancing later in the

evening. She took one more look around the room she'd been given, a

lovely one, though quite small. That didn't matter to her in the

slightest, for she was simply thankful she didn't have to team up with

one of the other girls.

Roxanne was located across the hall from her, so, after she had

brushed her silver gilt hair into some semblance of order, she strolled

across and rapped on the door.

Rox's voice called out for whoever it was to enter, and Caprice stuck

her head around the edge of the door. 'I'm ready to go back down,'

she said. 'Are you?'

The brunette was touching up her make-up, and peering at herself

closely. 'How do I look?' she asked through stiff lips, as she ran her

lipstick over them. 'No, don't answer that. I don't think I want to

know. Yes, I'm ready if you are.'

Caprice's laughter pealed merrily down the halls. 'Quit acting like a

martyr!' she exclaimed. 'Come on. We're here to enjoy ourselves,

right?'

And she led the way down the stairs, lightly skipping. When they

reached the large living room, they ran smack into Jeffrey, a

handsome, dark fellow, who laughingly caught at Caprice's arms to