Child of Darkness (14 page)

Ami laughed.
She studied the menu.
"Let's share a salad. What would you like to eat? What about lobster Thermidor?"
"I've never eaten lobster," I said. She swung her eyes to the ceiling and then shook her head.
"Okay, then that's what you'll have. I have so much to do with you to get you caught up that I have decided to devote all my time to it," she told me.
All her time? What did that mean? Where were her friends, her other activities? I know I should have felt grateful, but instead I had those pangs of fear again.
Our waiter was returning with our drinks, the cranberry-tinted liquid in large martini glasses carried as if he were bringing crowns on a silver tray. Once again, conversations stopped and all eyes turned in our direction. Ami sponged up the attention as if it nourished her very being.
"Should I take your order, or are you waiting for someone?" our waiter asked.
"Really, Tony, do I ever wait for anyone?" Ami teased. He laughed, his eyes moving quickly to me again. "We'll share the house salad. Celeste will have lobster Thermidor, and I'll have the shrimp cocktail as an entree. Also, put in an order for a chocolate souffle," she added.
"Absolutely," Tony said, reaching for the menus. "May I?" he asked me.
"Oh, yes," I said, leaning back.
He nodded, held his gaze on me a moment longer and then hurried off.
"He's drooling," Ami said. "See?"
I couldn't help blushing and looking down.
"You have to get rid of that modesty as quickly as you can, or rather, get control of it. There are times to appear modest and innocent and times when it's a disadvantage," Ami instructed. "For example, in a room full of stuffy, snobby people like this one, you want to look as confident and return their
condescending expressions as quickly and as firmly as you can. You tell yourself there is no one in here who is better than you are, and you let them all know it with the way you hold yourself, look at them, and even speak to them. Never give anyone the
satisfaction of thinking he or she is better than you are, Celeste.
"I know, for a girl who has been living as an orphan in hand-me-down clothes and for someone sleeping, eating, and breathing on the proceeds of charity, that's difficult to accomplish at first, but you're my spiritual sister now, and you live in my house. It's good to be somewhat arrogant. If you have it, flaunt it, and you have it," she said.
Her pep talk made me feel better. I lifted my head and looked out at the patrons of the restaurant, meeting every stare head-on. Just as Ami had predicted, they all quickly turned away.
Ami lifted her glass and nodded at mine.
"To us," she said, and we tapped glasses. I sipped my drink and then took a deep breath. When would I stop feeling like I was sinking deeper and deeper into some pool of sin? Every little change in me that Ami engineered seemed tainted, whether it be the use of makeup, the hairdo, the clothes, the drinking, or now the lessons in demeanor and attitude. Was she changing me into a better, more confident young woman, or dragging me down to some awaiting disaster?
Wade didn't appear until after we had eaten our salad. On his way to our table, he shook hands with and spoke to some of the other restaurant patrons. The conversation was obviously about me, as he looked our way and then spoke again.
"I hope he isn't describing you as some orphan," Ami muttered.
"Sorry I'm late," he said when he reached our table. "We had a small crisis at the plant, a truckload of wrong parts, and we had deliveries to do
tomorrow."
He sat. Ami shook her head.
"You have a general manager, Wade, whom you pay a good salary to, don't you? Why don't you let the man fulfill his responsibility?"
"The plant has my family name on it, not his," Wade replied drily, looking at the menu Anthony hurried over to give him.
"Family name," Ami muttered, "on plumbing parts."
"I'll skip the salad," Wade told Anthony. "Just bring me the filet mignon, medium well!'
"Very good, Mr. Emerson," Anthony said, taking his menu but smiling at me.
From the expression on his face when he looked at me, I didn't think Wade approved of the way I was dressed and made up. He finally noticed the Cosmopolitan in front of me.
"You ordered her an alcoholic beverage?"
"It's her first big night out with us, Wade. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal? Ami, she's underage. You can't do that. You'll endanger the restaurant as well. Please slide that over to me," he told me.
I did as he asked, and Ami immediately went into a pout.
"I'm sorry, Celeste," he said. He turned back to Ami. "You know that Mrs. Brentwood, the principal of the Dickinson School, is sitting by the fireplace with her husband?"
Ami glanced in that direction, and I looked as well. An attractive middle-aged woman with light brown hair sat facing us. Her husband had his back to us. I thought she had a nice smile, and unlike most of the other patrons, she didn't seem at all interested in us. She laughed at something her husband said and then wiped the strands of her shoulder-length hair away from her right cheek.
"So what?" Ami muttered.
"So what? So she'll know Celeste is not old enough to be served alcohol and that you ordered it for her. What kind of a foster mother are you? Not smart." Wade sipped my drink. "It's too sweet," he said. "How can you drink this anyway?"
"Sweets for the sweet," Ami quipped. Wade shook his head, but settled down and smiled at me.
"Excited about tomorrow?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, although nervous was a better term to apply, I thought.
"You'll do well," he told me. "I'm sure you have better study habits than half the school population, most of whom are spoon-fed everything. What subjects interest you the most?"
"Boys," Ami offered for me.
Wade looked at her and then slowly turned back to me.
"I guess English," I said. He nodded.
"Yes, that was my favorite, especially English literature."
"Yes, well, you get lots of opportunity to use that knowledge in a wholesale plumbing plant, don't you?" Anti snapped at him as if she hated all education, regardless of the subject.
"You'd be surprised," he said. "Pipes have to be grammatically correct to fit correctly, and elegant sink, tub, and shower fixtures have to be described poetically."
We both laughed. It was Ami's turn to smirk, but before she could comment, our food was served. Wade looked surprised by my dish.
"She's never had lobster before, Wade, so don't start talking about the cost."
"I'm not. It looks very good, in fact. I probably should have ordered it myself."
"It is good," I said, tasting it. "It's delicious." He smiled.
"Who's your favorite author?" he asked.
"I don't know as I have one favorite," I told him. "I didn't expect to enjoy reading Mark Twain as much as I did this year. I love
Huck Finn."
"So did I," Wade said.
Ami groaned.
"Really, Wade, next thing you'll do is get her reading the
Wall Street Journal."
He shrugged and looked at me.
"Maybe I will," he said. "Why shouldn't she understand the financial world?"
"She'll have more important things to do."
"More important? Like what, Ami?"
"Oh, please," Ami said, and pushed her plate away. She had eaten barely half of her dinner. "I'll be right back," she said. "I have to powder my nose. Actually," she said after she stood, leaning toward Wade, "I have to pee."
She giggled and started away, deliberately pausing at a table to speak with a man who had been smiling at her, to the displeasure of the woman he was with. Wade watched her and then turned back to me.
"I'll give you a wake-up call tomorrow," he told me as he continued to eat. "Ami will say she'll do it and you shouldn't worry, but she won't."
"Thank you."
"I'll admit that taking you in was all her idea, but once I agree to do something, I do it right," he continued. Then he leaned toward me to whisper, "This food is good, but it's just as good at Billy's Hideaway and half the price. You'll learn. You'll see what's really important," he promised.
Everyone's trying to teach me something, I thought. Everyone wants to be right about what is most important in life. I just hoped I wouldn't come between Ami and Wade or cause some new troubles. Then Mrs. Cukor would be the one who was really right about me. I would have brought the evil eye into the Emerson home after all. I did have some dark curse attached to my very being.
After Ami returned, and our souffle was served, she wanted us to go into the bar and listen to the trio, but Wade told her she should take me home to get a good night's rest.
"She's starting a new school. It's not easy, And."
"Oh, it's not hard either. An hour or so longer won't matter."
"The bar's no place for her," he emphasized.
She raised her eyes to the ceiling and then stood up abruptly.
"Come along, Cinderella. Wade thinks my car will turn into a pumpkin any moment."
She started away, miffed. I looked at Wade, who was staring down at the table.
What had brought these two people together? I wondered. What did they like about each other? For Wade, beauty was apparently not enough, and as far as Ami was concerned, Wade was uninteresting. Were they different once? Had something changed them? Perhaps this was the way most married people behaved after a while. What did I really know about husbands and wives, families?
"I'll be right home, myself," Wade said as I came around the table.
Ami was already waiting at the restaurant entrance, pouting. I hurried after her. Most of the patrons were already gone, but the bar was filled and the music was loud. People were laughing and drinking. Ami looked at the scene longingly. I almost thought I should suggest Wade take me home and she stay, but she stepped out of the restaurant quickly and ordered her car.
"I really enjoyed everything. Thank you," I said, hoping to help her to feel better.
"What did I tell you?" she asked, spinning on me. "He didn't even comment about my hair."
She raised her anus.
That's right. That was odd, I thought. Why didn't he?
"Maybe he's seen you in the wig before."
"Of course he's seen me in it before, many times before, but that's not the point. Men," she said, and started for the car when it was brought up to us. She tipped the valet, and we got in and drove off.
Suddenly, she laughed.
"It's all right," she said. "I'm really not upset. I just wanted him to think I was."
"Why?"
"That way he'll be nicer to me. Always let them think you're mad at them, even if you have no reason to be. It puts them on the defensive, and there is no better place for a man to be put than on the defensive," she lectured. "By the way, that goes for boys your age as well. It makes no difference. As I told you, all men are boys," she said. Then, under her breath, she added, "In one way or the other."
When we arrived at the house, she insisted we go into the living room and have what she called an after-dinner cordial.
"You have to know about these things, Celeste," she said. "You'll be invited to rich peoples' homes now. Their children have been brought up exposed to elegant, expensive things, have traveled to all sorts of exotic and beautiful places. You should know about the good life, appreciate what you can have, will have.
"I don't want any of them to know you're an orphan, a girl who lived in orphanages most of her life," she added firmly as she poured a black liquor into what she called brandy glasses.
"How am I to prevent them from knowing?"
"Simple," she said. "We'll tell them a different story."
She gave me the drink and sat across from me. I looked at the glass.
"Go on, try it," she said.
I did. I thought it tasted like licorice. Actually, I enjoyed it.
"It's Opal Nera, black sambuca," she said. "Now then, who are you, and why are you here?"
She sat back, thinking. I sipped more of my drink and sat staring at her.
"Okay. You're my niece, understand: Your parents are in a nasty, nasty divorce. Most of those snobs will understand and appreciate that," she told me. "Half of them come from divorced parents. I volunteered to take you in for the remainder of the year so you would have a more stable environment. Now where do you come from?"
She sipped her drink and tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair.
"Can't be from the South. You have no accent. We have to be careful. These kids have influential relatives everywhere. Where have you been?"
"Nowhere," I replied.
"Where was that farm of yours?"
"It's in the Catskills."
"Okay. What's your father do?"
"What about a pharmacist?" I suggested. Maybe it was the alcohol, the food, the excitement of the whole evening, but I was suddenly enjoying this.
"Pharmacist? No, that's not wealthy enough, unless he owned a chain of stores. Let's keep it a little vague. He's an international entrepreneur, and he's away from home so much, and that's why the marriage failed. Your mother might have had a lover. Yes, she has a lover and you knew it and it was painful for you because even though your father is away so much, you love him and feel sorry for him. However, he might have lovers, too. In Europe. Perfect. If anyone asks anything specific, you get sad and say you can't talk about it. It's all still so raw and painful. Oh, this is terrific," she said.
I laughed and finished my sambuca.
"You like that?"
"Yes."
"I'll teach you everything about good wine, good whiskey. You'll have eaten in fancy restaurants, so we'll talk about food. And we'll eat in good restaurants, frequently, so you'll know what I mean. This is going to be so much fun!" she cried.
We heard footsteps in the hallway.
Wade paused in the doorway and looked in at us. I put my glass down quickly.
"What are you doing, Ami? You were supposed to come home so she could get a good night's rest."
"We have to unwind, Wade. Women like us just don't hop into bed, close our eyes, and drift into Never-Never Land." She turned to me. "Wade falls asleep in seconds!'
"Not always," he said in a dark tone.
Ami's smile faded.
"All right. We'll go to bed, Daddy,`" agreed, put down her glass, and stood.
I did too, and we started out of the room. Wade stepped aside. I glanced at him quickly. He raised his closed right hand to his ear to indicate he would make my wake-up call. Ami and I headed up the stairway.
"Of course he's right, I suppose," she admitted. "What are you going to wear tomorrow?"
"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."
"Wear the blue skirt and the blouse we got at Femme Fatale. You have that blue cardigan sweater. It's smart. Oh, and wear the dress watch, too. Here," she added, pulling a gold band filled with diamonds off her left hand. "Wear this too. You have to look the part you're playing."