Casteel 05 Web of Dreams (20 page)

"I won't have you threaten my health with your lust," Momma replied.
"But Tinian, making love doesn't diminish your health. If anything, you should feel more complete, more fulfilled as a woman."
"Oh poo. That's something only a man would dream of saying. Honestly, Tony, you're behaving like a schoolboy who has just discovered sex. I'm disappointed in your lack of self-control."
"Lack of self control!" Tony thundered. "You were too tired midway into our honeymoon, and every day after that you found one excuse or another, and now we've been home three nights, and you still haven't the strength to make love and I'm accused of a lack of self-control?"
"Lower your voice, please. Do you want the servants to hear this?" Momma hissed. "I told you," she said in a softer tone, "I just need a little more time. Please, Tony, please be understanding. Sleep in your own room tonight again. Maybe tomorrow . ."
"I fear that tomorrow you'll have another excuse," he said in a tone of defeat. "I don't know what you're saving it for," he suddenly snapped. "Or do you expect to have another, even younger husband some day?"
Before I could turn to leave, he came storming out of Momma's bedroom. He stopped when he saw me standing there, my eyes big. His face softened some, but he said nothing. He simply continued to leave. I waited a few minutes and then went in to discuss my wardrobe with Momma, pretending I hadn't heard anything.
"Remember your promise to me, Leigh," she said before I left. "You'll come home as much as you can and spend as much time with Tony as you can. I need help, at least during these early days of my new marriage."
"But Momma, he won't want to spend his time with me. He married you; he'll want to be with you."
"He just needs companionship. You'll see. Oh dear," she said gazing at herself in the mirror. "All this tension has put bags under my eyes."
I saw no bags.
"I must get a good night's rest. Sleep well, dear, and have a good first day at your new school."
"But aren't you coming along, too?" My heart began to race with fear.
"Please, Leigh. You don't need me. Tony's taking care of everything, just as he promised. He'll take you and talk to the headmistress and see that you're comfortable and secure. Then he's going off to his offices. It will work out fine."
"But . . ."
"I must get some rest." She snapped off her reading light. "Good night, Leigh."
I swung my eyes away quickly, disgusted, angry--angrier than Tony perhaps. I knew why she didn't want to come along. She didn't want the world to know she had a daughter as old as I was. She wanted to continue this charade of youth. She was so determined I would be like a sister to her that in her mind I was her sister, not her daughter. She wouldn't do the things other mothers did; not if she could help it. At this moment I despised her, despised her for everything--for the pain and suffering she brought to Daddy and to me with the divorce, for being so selfcentered, and for lying to me all these years. I was so angry, I couldn't fall asleep for the longest time.
When I opened my eyes, I found Tony standing at my bedside staring down at me, smiling. He looked as if he had been standing there for quite a while. I had tossed and turned throughout the night, and my blanket was wrapped around my waist. My nightgown hung low, nearly exposing my breasts to his view.
"Good morning," he said. "Didn't mean to startle you, but I could tell you hadn't risen yet, and we have to keep to a schedule this morning. I want to start in about an hour, okay?"
I nodded quickly, pulling the blanket to my chin.
"I'll have Miles come up and get your bags in twenty minutes. See you at breakfast," he added and left.
I rose quickly, showered and dressed. On my way down to breakfast, I saw that Momma's doors were still shut tight. I didn't bother to go in to say goodbye.

It was a very clear morning when we set out for Boston and my new school, but the soft blue sky was deceptive because when I stepped out of the mansion, the air was so cold, I felt as if I had stepped into a refrigerator. The bright sunlight reflecting off the hard-packed snow made me squint. Tony laughed at my grimace and gave me his sunglasses.

"Here. Put these on. I have another pair in the limo," he said.
"But these are a man's sunglasses."
"No, I got them in Europe. They're unisex, and very expensive, I might add. Your mother bought two pairs, although I don't know when she will use them. She hasn't been out of the house since our return," he muttered and gestured for me to get into the car ahead of him. There was a
Wall Street Journal
and a thick folder of papers on the seat. "I usually read and work on my way into town," he explained. "But I'll put all that aside today since I have such pretty company."
I looked away quickly. I knew he was trying to be nice because he had seen how upset I was about Momma's not coming along, but I wasn't feeling pretty, nor was I in a good mood. I felt trapped, forced to go to places I didn't want to go to and do things I didn't want to do, all because it was what made Momma happy. She seemed always to get what she wanted, and without any of the accompanying hardships or effort. She was upstairs, comfortably in bed.
"You're going to love Winterhaven," he said as Miles drove off. "The main building used to be a church and the bell tower is still there. It chimes for each passing hour, and at twilight, they play melodies.
"All the buildings have names and form a half circle. There's an underground passageway that connects the five buildings. Students use it when snow makes walking difficult. You'll be staying in the main building, Beecham Hall. It houses the dorms and the dining rooms, and the assemblies are held there as well."
"If it's an all-girls school, how do you know so much about it, Tony?" I asked sharply. I didn't mean to take my anger out on him, but I couldn't help myself. He smiled and gazed out his window for a long moment. I thought he wasn't going to-explain, but then he turned back to me, his eyes glassy.
"I used to know a girl who went there," he replied softly.
"Oh? Was she a girlfriend?" I asked petulantly. He either ignored or didn't hear my irritable, sarcastic tone. His smile widened and he nodded.
"Yes. She was a very pretty, very sweet girl . . . almost angelic, I thought. She was never unhappy, but she had so much compassion and love in her that she cried if she heard a mouse had been caught in a trap." His eyes grew dreamier and dreamier as he recalled more and more about her. "She had a soft voice and a small, perfect heart-shaped face. She was childlike, innocent and very gentle. No matter how sad or depressed I was when I saw her, in moments I felt happy and alive again."
"What happened to her?" I wondered why he hadn't married such a wonderful person.
"She was killed in a car accident in Europe while on holiday with her parents . . . one of those treacherous mountain roads. I really knew her only a short while, but . . anyway," he said quickly, "she attended Winterhaven, and I would meet her there, so I got to know it well.
"Actually, Jillian reminded me a lot of her. She has that same perfect face, that same soft look, a look artists seek. You have it too, Leigh," he added turning back to me quickly.
"Me? No, I don't look that much like Momma. My eyes are too close together and my nose is so much bigger."
"Nonsense," he insisted. "You are too modest. Some of it should rub off on your mother," he said with surprising bitterness. "She's driving me mad, you know. But," he said quickly, "that's my problem. Today, we must see to your happiness and your wellbeing." He settled back to enjoy the ride.
Was I being too modest? Was I really becoming pretty or was Tony just saying it to cheer me up? Beside Daddy, no other man really complimented me so lavishly. Was that because I was still young or was it because only daddies and stepfathers would say such things to me? Certainly my hair was becoming as rich and as soft as Momma's, and we had the same color eyes. Was it wrong for me to hope I would be as beautiful, even more beautiful?
"There," Tony said, pointing, when we approached the school, "see what I mean?"
Winterhaven did have an elegant and special look to it. It was nestled snugly in its own small campus of bare winter trees with evergreens relieving the bleakness. The main building was white clapboard, gleaming in the early morning sunshine. I had expected a stone building, one of brick.
As soon as we arrived, a man from the school came out to collect my luggage and wheel it away on a cart. Tony gestured toward the administrative offices. He saw the look of trepidation on my face. It was a new school with new teachers and new friends to make. I couldn't help being nervous. This was the time a girl needed her mother beside her to comfort her, but mine was probably still in bed, her face covered with overnight creams, I thought disdainfully.
"Don't look so frightened. You'll do fine here. I saw your school grades, and as for making friends, all the girls in this place will trip over themselves trying to get you to be their companion. Except for those who will be terribly jealous and angry that the new girl is so pretty," he added. His smile gave me strength to climb the steps.
I was surprised by what I found. I had expected something like a posh hotel lobby, but what I saw looked very austere. It was very clean, with highly waxed hardwood floors. The walls were off-white, and the moldings were elaborate and darkly stained. Potted ferns and other household plants were scattered here and there on tables and beside straight-backed, hard-looking chairs to relieve the starkness of the white walls. From the foyer I could see the reception room that was a bit cozier, with its fireplace and carefully arranged chintz-covered sofas and chairs.
Tony led me to the office of the headmistress, Miss Mallory, a stout, affable woman who shone on both of us a wide, warm smile.
"Welcome to Winterhaven, Miss VanVoreen," she said. "It's an honor and a privilege to have the daughter of the owner of the country's most famous luxury ocean liners attending our school." She kept smiling at Tony. I estimated her to be in her mid- to upper twenties, perhaps young for her position, although her high-pitched voice and granny glasses made her seem much older. She had her dark brown hair pinned tightly into a bun and wore no makeup, not even lipstick. She seemed a bit insecure, but from the way Momma had described Tony's influence with the school, I imagined he could have an effect on her future. The school had an expensive tuition, but really existed on the basis of the contributions rich people like Tony made.
"I know Mr. Tatterton is a busy man, so let's move quickly. I imagine he wants to see your living quarters," she said smiling again at Tony. "I'll show you your dormitory room myself," she said, "and afterward, you and I can get to know each other a lot better when I describe your program to you. I planned it for you personally," she added, raising her eyebrows to impress Tony. He didn't change expression.
"Right this way," Miss Mallory said, gesturing. "I've asked your roommate, Jennifer Longstone, in remain in your room this morning rather than attend class, just so I could introduce the two of you." She turned to Tony. "Of course, I don't do such a thing with everyone. And, of course," she said turning back to me, "if there is any problem between you and Jennifer, anything at all, don't hesitate to tell me and move you to other living quarters." She smiled again at Tony and led us down the long corridor that connected the administrative offices with the dormitory.
There were a number of bulletin boards along the way, and although most of them were taken up with club announcements and reminders about tests and such, there were also a number of reminders about dorm regulations prohibiting hoarding of food in rooms and forbidding liquor, including beer and wine. Study hour was from seven to eight and after eight, students could go into the recreation room to watch television or play board and card games until curfew, but any form of gambling was prohibited. None of the students were permitted television sets in their rooms and the loud playing of music was taboo. Of course, smoking was off limits everywhere.
I saw that every prohibition carried the threat of demerits with it. Miss Mallory observed the way I read the bulletin boards as we passed them.
"Yes, you see we have very strict rules at Winterhaven," she told me. "We are proud of our girls, proud of their demeanor and their exemplary behavior. Once in a while, we have a problem, but we take care of it quickly. If someone does prove to be incorrigible, the demerit system will terminate her stay here.
"For obvious reasons," she continued, "we expect you to be prompt for all your classes and do all your assignments on time, as well as be on time for all meals. A table has been assigned to you, and you are not permitted to change your seating unless the occupants at another table invite you to join them. You can, of course, invite someone to join you as well. Each student is expected to wait the tables for one week each semester. We rotate the service, and most students find it not unpleasant.
"But," she added, stopping at a door, "I'm sure a girl of your class and breeding won't have any difficulty with any of this." She flashed a smile at Tony and opened the door.
I was surprised at the plainness of the room because I had expected that girls from such rich and well-known families would have luxurious quarters. Also, the room was much smaller than I had anticipated. The floors were polished hardwood with scatter rugs set down beside the simple, light mapleframed single beds. There were two matching dressers side by side at the center, between the beds. In the corners were two desks with lamps and above them and to the side of each were dark pine shelves. There was a bowl-shaped light fixture at the center of the ceiling. The walls were the same off-white with the darkly stained molding found in the lobby of the building. Behind the headboard of each bed were two panel windows, each with a pale yellow shade and thin, eggshell white curtains.
Jennifer Longstone was seated at her desk in the right-hand corner. She stood up immediately and smiled. She was at least three inches shorter than me, with a round face with big dark eyes and what I thought was beautiful black hair, as black as licorice. I liked her smile and the way her pug nose twitched. She wore a white blouse and a blue skirt with saddle shoes and bobby sox.
"Jennifer," Miss Mallory said, "this is Leigh VanVoreen and her stepfather, Anthony Tatterton."
"Pleased to meet you," Jennifer said and extended her hand first to Tony and then to me under Miss Mallory's scrutinizing eyes.
"Jennifer is in all of your classes," Miss Mallory continued. "1 thought you two would like that. Jennifer will show you around after you settle in and then, you will report to my office to discuss your schedule. Jennifer, you can then resume your own schedule."
"Yes, Miss Mallory," Jennifer replied, but there was a gleam in her eye when she looked at me. I liked her immediately.
"Mr, Tatterton," Miss Mallory said. "I hope this meets with your satisfaction."
"Well, it's really Leigh who has to be satisfied," Tony said, gazing at me with his characteristic smile.
"I'm all right," I said.
"Well, then," Miss 'Mallory said. "We'll leave you two to get acquainted. As soon as you've completed your tour, Leigh, please report to me promptly."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'll see you on the weekend," Tony said. "Call if you need anything, however, for I am in town every day."
"Thank you, Tony, and give my love to Troy."
"I will." He kissed me quickly on the forehead and followed Miss Mallory out. Jennifer didn't move or say a word until the door closed. Then she exploded with an energy that overwhelmed and amused me.
"Hi. I'm so glad to have a roommate. Your name's Leigh? I'm from Hyannis Port. Have you ever been there? Oh, of course, you must have been there. Or at least have driven through it. Do you want me to help you unpack your things? This is your dresser and closet, but if you need more room, you can use some of my closet. There's room. That was your stepfather? He's so handsome. How old is he'?" She paused to take a breath and I laughed.
"Oh, I'm talking too much. I'm sorry. You probably have a thousand questions for me. Go ahead, ask away," she said folding her arms and standing back.
"How long have you been at Winterhaven?"
"All my life. No, I'm joking. Three years. It's a junior and senior high school, you know. I'm sentenced to spend it all here. Where did you go to school before?"
"In Boston at a public school."
"Public school! You lucky one--classes with boys in them and boys in the hallways and in the cafeteria. Here we see boys only when the high priestess permits a dance."
"High priestess?"
"Miss Mallory. You know she's only twentysix, but Ellen Stevens told me she heard that Miss Mallory has taken a vow like a nun, dedicating herself to education. She will never marry. She lives here and never has a date!"
"Ellen Stevens?"
"Yes. Oh, you'll meet everyone at lunch. We have the best table in the junior high wing. There's Ellen and Marie Johnson, whose daddy makes all those automobile tools, and Betsy Edwards, whose father runs the Boston Opera House, and Carla Reeve, whose . ."
"Is everyone known by what their father does?" I interrupted. It took the wind out of the sails of her excitement.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought you'd like to know. At least, most girls who come here want to know those things."
"Well I don't," I said sharply. Her face sagged. "All right," I said, "what does your daddy do?"
He was a lawyer, one of the best in New England," she said proudly. And then her smile turned as fragile as paper-thin glass. "but he died last year."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"I suppose that's why I brag about everyone's fathers." She dropped her eyes and then raised them quickly as a new thought reinstated her enthusiastic mood. "but how come you have a stepfather and one so young?" I was sure she thought my father had died too and we had much more in common than just our ages and classes.
"My mother divorced my father," I blurted. I didn't see the point of hiding it. Eventually, everyone would find out anyway. Her eyes widened.
"How sad," she said. "Is it hard for you to see your real father?"
"Yes. He works a lot. He runs an ocean liner business. But, he's going to come here to see me this week," I added, not hiding my happiness and excitement. "He'll take me to dinner."
"That's nice," she said. "My daddy used to do that," she added wistfully.
"Not this time because it's the first time I'll see him in a while, but maybe next time, I'll take you along, if you'd like."
"Really! I'd love it. And I won't say anything stupid or embarrassing. You'll tell me what to say and what not to. And I won't tell any of the other girls anything you tell me about it. I promise, cross my heart, pinky promise," she said extending her pinky. I had to laugh.