Property of a Noblewoman (26 page)

“I’m not going to meet that girl’s illegitimate baby. Why should I?”

“Because she’s your brother’s daughter, and your niece,” Tom said again, but his father just turned stone-faced and looked away.

Tom had offered to pick her up at the hotel, but Valerie insisted she could drive herself to their home, and she headed toward Montecito at six o’clock, and followed the directions he had given her to their house. When she got there, she saw that it was a big sprawling Spanish-style home with a wide circular driveway perched high on a hill, with a beautiful view. The house was substantial, and the grounds extensive, perfectly manicured and well designed, and there was a large swimming pool and tennis courts off to the side. She walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell, and a moment later the door opened and Angie appeared. She was an attractive blonde with a wide smile, and right behind her a tall man appeared, who looked like a teddy bear, and the only trait they seemed to have in common was the same snow-white hair. Without hesitating, Tom gave her a warm hug, and Angie kissed her hello. Valerie had worn a pale blue cashmere sweater and gray slacks and was carrying a blazer in the cool air, and wondered if she was too informal. Angie was wearing a dress and high heels, and Tom was wearing a shirt and tie and a suit in her honor. But the atmosphere in the house was informal, and they walked her through the beautifully decorated home to a patio with heaters outside, where they could enjoy the view.

Angie told her they had bought and remodeled the house when the children were young, and it was a little too big for them now, but they loved it. And they had good living quarters for Tom’s father, who was with them now. He had been living with them since Tom’s mother died ten years before. But Valerie saw no sign of Walter, as they drank white wine and got to know each other. They seemed like warm, kind people and made her feel at home. And she was surprised by how at ease she was with them, as though they had known each other all their lives. They were that sort of people, with an easy California style, but Valerie felt something more.

The conversation turned toward her being an artist, and Tom surprised her by saying her father had been a talented artist too, and that Walter had many of his drawings, and some of his paintings. It explained where her own talent had come from, since no one else in her family had had any interest in art. It was one of the things that had drawn her to her husband when they met.

They chatted for an hour before dinner, and then went inside. Angie had organized a beautiful table and meal, and the housekeeper had stayed to serve it. Valerie noticed that the dining room table had been set for three, and remembered that Tom had said his father went to bed early since he was so old. And Tom excused himself before dinner to go and check on him.

He found his father in his bedroom in his wheelchair, looking out the window and scowling.

“Are you going to come and meet her, Dad? She’s a lovely woman.”

“No, I’m not.”

“She’s older than I am. She’s not some kid, or some hippie. You at least owe her that.”

“I don’t owe her a damn thing,” he growled, and spun around to turn his back on his son, who quietly left the room. It was like dealing with a child. He had never seen his father behave like this and didn’t like it. And he knew that Valerie would be disappointed not to meet him, after coming this far.

Instead, as he walked back to the dining room, Tom picked up some framed photographs on the way, then showed them to Valerie. They were photographs of her father, as a boy and in his teens. There was one of him at the age he must have been when he was in love with her mother, and another of him in uniform right before he left New York for the West Coast. And she was struck immediately by the resemblance, not only to her but to her son. Valerie looked far more like him than any of the Pearsons. And he was a very handsome young man. Tom was watching her intently as she looked at the photographs and then back at him.

“You look a lot like your father,” he said softly as they sat down to dinner. Valerie nodded, thinking how remarkable it was that she had found them. She could have called all the wrong Thomas Babcocks, but she hadn’t. She had honed in on the right one, on the second try. And now she was here.

“Does your father look like him too?” she asked, curious about him.

“Not really. He looks more like me, although he’s smaller now than he was. He’s lost a lot of weight.” She nodded, wondering when she would meet Walter and how that would feel.

They talked about a variety of subjects during dinner – music, art, theater. Angie said they went to L.A. often for cultural events, but they liked living in Montecito, and having more space and better weather, and Tom’s architectural practice had always been there. Tom said the children had loved growing up in Santa Barbara, and only one had moved to L.A. They talked about their children, and Valerie showed them a photograph of Phillip. Tom commented on how much he looked like his grandfather too. The Babcock genes had been strong in both Valerie and her son. And Angie proudly showed her photographs of their grandchildren, whom she adored.

Valerie asked if they ever came to New York, and they said not often enough, but they were busy with work and their kids. And they didn’t like leaving Tom’s father for long periods of time. They were obviously dedicated to their family, and responsible people. And Tom smiled at her at the end of dinner.

“I never had a sister, and I have no cousins. I like having a cousin now. I wish you’d found us sooner,” he said warmly.

“So do I,” she said, and meant it. “I didn’t even know you existed, or about any of this until very recently. It all came as a surprise, not to say a shock.” She laughed. “But in a funny way, it’s a relief. I never fit in to the family I grew up in, and I always felt they resented me and disapproved of me, and I didn’t know why. Now I know. It wasn’t really about me, it was their disapproval of the circumstances of my birth, not something I’d done wrong, which was how I felt. I don’t think my mother ever got over it. It takes a lot to banish your own child and declare her dead. It broke my mother’s heart, never seeing me again. Our nanny used to send her photographs of me, which was how I made the connection when I saw them.”

She told them about Marguerite’s safe deposit box then, and the jewelry, Phillip doing the appraisal, by sheer coincidence, and Fiona’s admission to her of what had really happened so long ago. “I would never have known about your uncle, my father, if I hadn’t gone to see her, and she hadn’t told me. She was surprised I never figured it out, but my grandparents hid it well. Even my birth certificate was falsified and showed them as my parents. They went to great lengths to conceal the truth from me. I wonder if they had any contact with your grandparents after I was born, or if they never spoke again. Apparently none of them wanted my parents to get married, and they were certainly very young. And it would have been a terrible scandal among the people they knew in those days.”

“I never heard a word of it,” Tom admitted over coffee and dessert. “My father even denied it when I asked him about you. It must have really shocked him to have it surface after so many years. Nobody ever mentioned Tommy having a child.”

“You’d think someone would have been curious about me, but I guess it was just too upsetting to face it, so no one did. I would have liked to meet your grandparents.” But meeting Walter would be enough. She hoped he would be well enough to see her during her brief stay. Tom had said during dinner that he was having a rough spell – he didn’t tell her that his father was refusing to see her and behaving like an angry child. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings after the effort she’d made to come out and meet them. He was glad she had. They shared many common interests, and were as openminded as she was, despite their conservative appearance. They were bright and fun and interested in the world, in sharp contrast to Winnie, whom she’d grown up with and was so shut down, and negative about so many things. Angie and Tom really seemed to enjoy life, just as Valerie did.

She stayed at their house later than she’d planned, and got back to the hotel after midnight, after promising to come back and see them again the next day. Angie had offered to take her to the local antique shops the next morning, and Tom wanted to show her his architectural office, which he was very proud of, and they took her out to lunch afterward. He obviously had a very successful practice and had built many of the houses in Montecito that they drove by. And during lunch, Tom asked her what was going to happen to her mother’s jewels. She had told them about the Christie’s auction in May, and explained that she was currently waiting for results of the DNA test, which would confirm her as Marguerite’s heir.

“It’s more of a formality.”

“I’d love to see the jewelry,” Angie commented, and Valerie promised to send her the catalog of the sale.

They had organized a dinner with their children that evening, and even their son from Los Angeles came. They had gone all out, and Valerie was touched by the warm reception she got from everyone. It was remarkable considering that she was the long-lost illegitimate cousin and niece that no one had even known about. And now they all acted as though they had been waiting for a lifetime to meet her. Except for her uncle Walter, who was continuing to refuse to leave his room. All his grandchildren asked where he was when they arrived.

“Grampa’s not feeling well. He’s resting in his room,” Tom said simply. Two of them went to see him, and Tom’s oldest son came out and commented to his father.

“Wow, Gramp is in one hell of a foul mood. What happened?” He had never seen him that way before.

“It’s a long story.” He didn’t want to explain now, in case Valerie overheard him and was hurt by her uncle’s refusal to meet her. He had lost hope of his father becoming reasonable by then.

Valerie thought Angie and Tom’s children were wonderful. The conversation was lively and fun at dinner, and she was sorry Phillip hadn’t come. But she hoped to come back again, and promised to bring him next time. She wanted them to meet him too.

They were talking and laughing after dinner, as Tom served champagne to everyone, and he was just toasting his new-found cousin when they were suddenly aware of another presence, and all heads turned to see Walter wheel himself into the room with a stern expression.

“What’s all the noise out here? You people could wake the dead.” He was a dignified-looking, very old man, and he wore a proper suit, with a white shirt and tie, and had put on his shoes, and Tom knew it had cost enormous effort to do so by himself, and he was proud of him, as he handed him a glass of champagne.

“You look terrific, Dad,” he said gently, as Valerie smiled at him from across the room, and then walked toward him respectfully, and extended her hand. His disapproval of her was plain on his face, but it didn’t deter her. She had been waiting to meet him.

“It’s a great honor to meet you, sir,” she said softly, and he hesitated for a long moment. Then he shook her hand as his eyes bored into hers. He wanted to dislike her as much as he had hoped to, but he found he couldn’t, and tears filled his eyes as he looked at her, and then he finally spoke.

“You look so much like your dad, even at your age.” And then he smiled. She took out the photograph of Phillip to show him then, and he stared at it hungrily. “I guess that’s how Tommy would have looked at his age.” She sat down next to him, and they talked for a long time, as he slowly mellowed in the face of her gentleness and grace. “Your mother was a very pretty girl,” he admitted. “And I know she loved him. He loved her too. I always worried about what would happen between them, it was a flame that was just too bright, and I was afraid they’d get burned. I was at Princeton when it all happened, and when I came home, all hell had broken loose, and she was already gone. And then Pearl Harbor, and we were both drafted. I shipped out before he did. He was desperate about you. He didn’t want Marguerite to give you up. He wanted to marry her when he came back, but he never did. And I never knew what happened to you after that. They told my parents that you’d been given up, and that was the end of it. My mother didn’t believe them and thought there was something suspicious about it, but I think they didn’t want to know. I think because Tommy died, they wanted to find you after you were born, but it was all too difficult then, it was easier to just let it go. We never spoke of it again. And then we heard that your mother died, and the whole story died with her. It was a chapter that was closed.” He stared at her in amazement. “And now here you are.” He looked at her sternly for a long moment. “You took a long time to show up.”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know any of it either. They never told me anything. I just found out a few weeks ago. Too late to meet my mother, sadly. She died last year, before I knew. We never saw each other again after she left, I was only a few months old.”

“She was a beautiful girl,” he said again. Valerie didn’t tell him that she had married Umberto. He didn’t need to know. And it was a lot for him to absorb. It brought up all his sadness at losing his brother, although he seemed very interested in her son, and wanted to know more about him. And she told him she was an artist, and he had Valerie wheel him into his room so he could show her some of her father’s paintings, and they were very good.

Walter was tired then, and said he was going to rest for a while. The young people were making too much noise, and it had been a big evening for him.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked her, with anxious eyes.

“If you’d like to. I’m not going back to New York till tomorrow night. And I’ll be back again.”

“Bring your son next time. I want to meet him. He looks like a fine boy.”

“He is. I think you’d like him.” He nodded, as he gazed at her.

“I’m sorry they made such a botch of it for you,” he said gruffly. “You’re a good woman. She probably was too. It sounds like she had a hard life if she never saw you again, and they said she was dead. I hope she was all right in the end.”

“I hope so too,” Valerie said softly, and he nodded and patted her hand. And before she left his room, she leaned down and gently kissed his cheek, and she saw that there were tears in his eyes, but he was smiling when she left.