Claire at Sixteen (6 page)

“We live in Concord,” Scotty replied. “My mother said it was bad enough to have to live in the Boston area, but she was damned if she'd live in Boston. Besides, my grandparents, Grandfather and Grandmother Hughes, are still alive, so we couldn't take over their house. It's a lot like Clark's, a lot like your aunt Grace's.”

“And Concord is different?” Claire asked.

“It's a beautiful town,” Scotty replied. “We all love the time we get to spend at home.”

“Can we turn the heat on when we get there?” Claire asked.

“Sure,” Scotty said. “Or we can make our own heat.”

Men, Claire thought. So predictable. She tried to imagine Clark coming on like that, and laughed.

“What's so funny?” Scotty asked.

Claire could hear the defensiveness in his voice. She glanced at him casually and thought about who he was. Scotty had gone to an all-boy's prep school. He attended the occasional debutante party. His brother Schyler was notorious for his success with girls. Scotty had spent two years pining after Thea, who had probably never even bothered to kiss him. No wonder he lacked subtlety.

“I was under the impression you were interested in me,” Scotty said when Claire didn't answer. “You've been the one making all the moves. What's going on? Is this some sort of game you've invented, just to drive Thea crazy?”

“What makes you think Thea even cares?” Claire asked.

“You mean she doesn't?” Scotty asked.

Claire laughed to herself. “If you're interested in me, then leave Thea out of it,” she said. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Scotty said. “And I am interested in you. But I thought it was mutual.”

“It is,” Claire replied. “I think you're wonderful, Scotty. I always have. I told you that yesterday, and I meant it.”

“Then why were you laughing at me?” Scotty asked.

“I wasn't,” Claire replied. “I was laughing at myself.”

“I still don't get the joke,” Scotty said.

The car had warmed up sufficiently for Claire to take her hands out of her pockets. She removed her gloves first and tried to will the hole to mend itself. “I laughed because I'd half convinced myself you didn't care about me,” she said. “No, that isn't exactly it. I was convinced you still saw me as only Thea's kid sister, the way you had when we first met two years ago.”

“Two years ago you were fourteen,” Scotty said. “How else was I supposed to see you?”

“I was afraid you still saw me as fourteen,” Claire replied. “I'm not a kid anymore, Scotty.”

“I know that,” Scotty said. “I'm not all that sure you were a kid at fourteen.”

“I was younger,” Claire said. “I've grown up a lot in the past two years.”

“So have I,” Scotty declared. “Enough to know love isn't a first-sight thing.”

“It is in my family,” Claire said. “First Megs with Nicky and then Evvie with Sam. Thea with Kip, too, I suppose. They all fell in love at first sight when they were sixteen.”

“You're sixteen now,” Scotty said. “Are you about to fall in love at first sight?”

It depends on how nice your house is, Claire thought. “I don't know,” she replied. “I fell a little in love with you when we first met two years ago. I haven't felt that way about any other boy since then. Sometimes I dream about you, Scotty.”

“I dreamt about you last night,” Scotty said. “Uh, it's getting kind of hot in here. Would you mind if I opened my window?”

“I'd like the breeze,” Claire said. She could imagine what the dream had been, but she knew better than to laugh again.

Scotty pressed a button, and his window mysteriously lowered itself. Claire thought about how few things Clark had to actually do for himself. He didn't even have to roll down his own windows.

“Our house is near Walden Pond,” Scotty declared. “You know, where Thoreau lived.”

“I know,” Claire said. “I've been to Concord. Megs took us once when we visited Aunt Grace. We went on a tour of Louisa May Alcott's house. She was always Thea's favorite.”

“I can see that,” Scotty said. “I bet Jane Austen was Evvie's.”

“It could be,” Claire said. “Who's your favorite?”

“For serious stuff, Melville,” Scotty replied. “For relaxation, Louis L'Amour. Who do you like best?”

“Colette,” Claire said.

Scotty laughed. “I should have known,” he declared. “You are definitely not the Louisa May Alcott type.”

“I'm not the Jane Austen type, either,” Claire said. “And I hope this won't upset you, but I'm not the Melville type or even the Louis L'Amour.”

“I bet you're great at l'amour,” Scotty said. “I bet you know all the rules.”

“I'm sure there are things you could teach me,” Claire replied, trying to decide if she wanted to go to bed with him. On the one hand, it would be fun, especially knowing that Thea still didn't have any idea what was going on. And Scotty was good-looking and nice and well-to-do, an admirable combination. But if she let Scotty sleep with her, then he'd never respect her again. And while in the long run she didn't care if Scotty respected her, for the next few days it might come in handy to have him think of her as at least a halfway decent girl.

“We'll be there in a few minutes,” Scotty said. “I'm dying to get there.”

That decided it. Claire was not about to be a quick roll in the hay. “Scotty, please listen to me,” she said, and she wished she looked younger, looked more like Megs. “I don't want you to think I've been misleading you.”

“About what?” Scotty asked.

“About our making love,” Claire replied. “I want you so much, but not today, not like this.”

“You mean in the car?” Scotty said. “It wouldn't be in the car. Why do you think I'm taking you to my house?”

“That's it,” Claire said. “I want you to be taking me there because it's important to you, because it's your home, not just some place that's cheaper and more convenient than a motel.”

“I don't like teases,” Scotty said.

Who does? Claire thought. “That's why I'm being honest with you,” she replied. “I've dreamed about us being lovers. For years that's all I've wanted.”

“It's what I want, too,” Scotty said.

“No,” Claire said. “You want us to have sex. That's only part of it.”

“You want flowers too?” Scotty said. “Boxes of candy? You want me to take you to the movies first? I didn't think that was your style.”

It wasn't, and Claire had to give Scotty a couple of points for perceptiveness. “I want us to know each other better,” Claire said. “That's all. I want to see your home, see where you grew up. You have an advantage over me. You know my family, I don't know yours. I want us to share our lives, just a little bit, before we share a bed.”

“I like the ‘just a little bit' part,” Scotty said. “You busy tomorrow?”

“No,” Claire said. “Yes. We're going to visit Aunt Grace. But I'll be free in the evening.”

“Do you want me to turn around?” Scotty asked. “Take you away from bedrooms?”

“I trust you,” Claire replied. “And I would love to see your home. You made it sound so special.”

“It is,” Scotty said. “I used to love spending time there. I hated leaving it all the time.”

Claire pictured Scotty's long lonely childhood and wished she had more time to be sympathetic to him. She'd bought a day's reprieve, but that might not be enough. And there were things she had to get from Scotty, information if nothing else. “Did you get to spend a lot of time with your grandparents?” she asked. “I always thought it must be nice having grandparents.”

“You're welcome to mine,” Scotty said. “My grandparents aren't exactly the warm cuddly kind.”

“Even the legendary Sebastian?” Claire asked. “How could someone with a name like that not be perfect?”

Scotty laughed. “It's nicer as a last name than a first one,” he said. “He has a real cruel streak. He used to make me cry sometimes with the things he said.”

“He's still alive?” Claire asked.

Scotty nodded. “All four of my grandparents are still alive. Granny, my mother's mother, is pretty nice. They'll be up for a visit over New Year's. We'll all be together then.”

“You don't sound like you're looking forward to it,” Claire said. So Sebastian Prescott was going to be in town. She wondered how Evvie would react if she knew. “Isn't the house big enough?”

“You wouldn't understand,” Scotty said. “Your family is so close. But I don't have that much in common with mine. My mother worships Schyler, I guess because he looks like her, and my father, well, he's cold, like his parents. I never fit in. But there were times I'd dream about being in a normal family, the kind where everybody lives together and loves each other. The normal American kind. That's what our house looks like, a stage set for that family. Well, you'll see what I mean. Here we are.”

They drove into a curving driveway, and Claire looked at what was a genuine mansion. The house was stately and white, and she could see even in winter how well tended the grounds were. If Claire owned a house like that, she'd never leave it.

“It's beautiful,” she said as she and Scotty got out of Clark's sports car. “It looks like a dream.”

“It is a dream,” Scotty said. “Be careful. The steps are icy.”

Claire held on to him as they walked to the front door. Scotty opened it, and she followed him in. “It's wonderful,” she said. “If Thoreau had lived here, he never would have moved to Walden Pond.”

Scotty laughed. “Let me turn the heat up,” he said. “It's an old house, so it'll take a while to warm up. You might want to keep your coat on.”

“Thank you,” Claire said.

“For what?” Scotty asked.

“For bringing me here,” Claire replied. “And for understanding.”

“You're worth waiting for,” Scotty said. “And you were right. We shouldn't rush. You're not cheap, and neither am I.”

Scotty really was nice. Claire marveled again at how foolish Thea was.

“Will you give me the tour?” she asked. “I want to see everything.”

“It'll be my pleasure,” Scotty said. He reached his hand out, and Claire took it, then moved closer and kissed him. “Sorry,” she said when they had finished. “I thought I saw some mistletoe.”

“I have a garden of it in my bedroom,” Scotty said. “Hanging trellises. It grows out of my ceiling like ivy.”

“Or mildew,” Claire replied. “I just had to kiss you then. But that's all.”

“That's all,” Scotty said, kissing her back. Claire was breathless by the time they finished. Maybe she was being too cautious. How cheap could it be to make love in a mansion?

“Claire,” Scotty said. “Oh, Claire. You drive me crazy.”

“I drive myself crazy,” Claire said, and she realized that was the first completely truthful thing she'd said to him. “I'm sorry, Scotty. It's just I want everything.”

“That's what you deserve,” he said. “All right. Let's get this tour going while we can still think.”

Claire nodded. Scotty led the way into the living room.

“Isn't it lovely,” he said, gesturing at the decorating-magazine perfection of the room. “As kids we were never allowed in here. My mother was afraid we'd get things dirty.”

Claire sympathized with Scotty's mother. If she had a room that pretty, she wouldn't let two boys anywhere near it. “Where were you allowed?” she asked.

“In the family room,” Scotty replied. “Here, I'll show you.” He led her through a maze of rooms, each as perfect as the last until they reached a room that only by the Hugheses' standard could be called a family room. It too was without blemish, only the TV was there, and the VCR, and a pool table, and a model train set, and an upright piano.

“You have a piano,” Claire said. They had been supposed to get one, but Sybil had gotten hurt instead.

“We have two,” Scotty replied. “The baby grand is in the music room upstairs.”

“Of course,” Claire said. She walked over to the piano, and checked out the photographs on it. There was Scotty in short pants, and standing next to him an older boy she assumed was Schyler. He was handsome, but Scotty was cuter. There were pictures of a couple she assumed were Scotty's parents, including one of them standing with Clark. And there was a picture of Nicky, as a very young man, standing with a woman Claire didn't recognize.

“My grandparents on their honeymoon,” Scotty said. “The legendary Sebastian, as you called him.”

Claire stared at the picture and hoped she wasn't giving anything away with her reaction. Of course it wasn't Nicky. The picture was at least fifty years old; she could tell that from the dress the woman was wearing.

But she had seen snapshots of Nicky on his wedding day, and the resemblance between the two men was extraordinary. And one way or another, they shared the name Sebastian.

And then Claire realized the kernel of truth Sam had tossed into his story that morning. There were no secrets about Schyler. That was a lie. But Evvie knew the name Sebastian Prescott from the summer she met Schyler, the summer she spent with Aunt Grace at Eastgate. And that meant Aunt Grace would know for sure what Claire was beginning to suspect.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

“Behave yourselves,” Evvie whispered to Claire and Thea as they stood in Aunt Grace's front parlor waiting for her to greet them.

It seemed to Claire all she'd been doing lately was behaving herself, but she kept her opinion to herself. Besides, Evvie probably wouldn't agree.

“Aunt Grace scares me,” Thea said. “How long do we have to stay?”