The Unloved (22 page)

“I know I should have been dressed hours ago,” she said. “But it’s so hot, and I don’t really have anything to do that I can’t put off for a day, and I just thought—”

“I’m afraid I have something that can’t be put off,” Kevin broke in, perching on the edge of Marguerite’s bed. “It’s the renovations. They have to begin in two weeks.”

Marguerite gazed at him blankly. “Only two weeks? But I thought—well, I suppose I thought it would be months.”

Kevin’s shoulders moved in a helpless gesture. “I can’t wait for months. But I have a problem.” He explained his plans to her, leading her through the changes he envisioned for the first floor and the new construction on the third. “The problem is this floor,” he finished. “I’m not asking you to give up this room—at least not yet—but I have to start doing something with the rest of it.”

Marguerite blinked. “But there’s the Rose Room, and the Green Room—”

“And the nursery and Mother’s rooms,” Kevin broke in,
deciding to confront the issue head on. Marguerite paled slightly, and Kevin could see her body tense. “I can’t do it one room at a time. The expense would be astronomical. Which means that we’re going to have to clean out Mother’s things. As for the nursery …” he began, then deliberately let his voice trail off. Not once since their mother had died had Marguerite been willing to discuss the ruined nursery. But it could be put off no longer.

Marguerite was silent for a moment, then winced as a burst of pain shot from her hip down the length of her crippled leg. She did her best to ignore it, then finally came to a decision and stood up, her leg threatening to give way beneath her. “I know you’ve been wondering about the nursery,” she said at last. She took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her eyes avoided her brother. “I did it. I … well, I suppose I always hoped that someday I might get married and have a baby, and … well, I guess that room was my way of keeping my hopes alive. I—I just started working on it one day. First I was just going to paint it, but then it just kept on going, and after a while I’d made curtains and furnished it and gotten it all ready.” Her eyes suddenly came to rest on him, glistening. “And then Mother destroyed it. She said it was just a fantasy and I had to forget about it. So she ruined it one day.” Her voice began to tremble. “She broke all the furniture and shredded the upholstery and smashed the pictures. And then she locked it up and forbade me ever to go into it again.”

Kevin gazed unbelievingly at his sister. “And you didn’t?” he asked, his voice betraying his incredulity.

But Marguerite only shook her head. “I—I couldn’t,” she admitted. “I suppose I thought that after mother died I might put it back together again.” She fell silent for a moment, then went on. “But I’m almost fifty, aren’t I? I’m not going to get married, and I’m not going to have a baby, and I’m not crazy. So take the nursery and do what you want with it. It’s time I gave it up completely.”

Kevin swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. “I—I’m not sure what to say—” he began, but Marguerite held up her hand in protest.

“Don’t say anything. I feel foolish enough as it is. Ruby and Mother understood, of course, and I hope you can too. But it’s over now. I’m not going to get married, and everything is going to change, and I have to change too.” Her eyes met his again, and Kevin thought he saw something strange in them for a moment. It was a quality of fear, or desperation, but almost as soon as it came into her eyes, it was gone.

“What about Mother’s rooms?” he finally asked, his voice low.

Marguerite hesitated only a moment, then nodded. “I’ll take care of it,” she said. “I’ll start this morning.”

Kevin stayed a moment longer, thinking there was something he should say to his sister, some gesture he should make to let her know he understood how much she was giving up, but in the end he could find no words. Saying nothing, he kissed her, then left her alone.

When he was gone, Marguerite stood still for a moment, feeling his kiss on her cheek, then unconsciously brushed it away. Her hip throbbing now, she hobbled to the door and made her way down the hall to her mother’s rooms. She went into the little parlor first, moving slowly through the room, her fingers brushing over the polished mahogany of the furniture, pausing for a moment at a large rosewood music box which she could still remember from her childhood. How she had loved to tip its lid open and watch the slowly turning metal disk as the soft melody resonated off the sounding board. She almost opened it now, but then turned quickly away, her eyes blurring with tears. She moved on, then, into the bedroom, automatically making minor adjustments to the clutter on the dresser top, putting things as her mother had liked them. At last she found herself in Helena’s dressing room, standing in front of one of the large closets, her eyes wandering over the long row of dresses—long out of fashion—that her mother had always refused to dispose of.

Suddenly, not certain what she was doing or why, she reached out and took one of the dresses off the hanger.

She remembered the dress well. It had been one of her mother’s favorites—a party dress, one her mother had worn when Marguerite was only a little girl. Made of silk, it was
an emerald green and had been cut on the bias, so it had clung to Helena’s body in voluptuous folds, falling almost to the floor.

Holding it to her body, Marguerite turned to face the mirror. The dress draped against her, she stared at her own image.

She could see the resemblance, even after nearly half a century. In the mirror was a woman who looked now very much as her mother had looked then.

Taking off her dressing gown, Marguerite slipped the dress over her head.

Jeff stood in the corridor, peering through the slightly open door to his grandmother’s room in rapt fascination, He wasn’t sure how long he’d been watching. In fact, he hadn’t really started out to watch at all. He’d been headed downstairs, on his way to meet Toby Martin, when he noticed that the door to his grandmother’s room was ajar and had come to see why.

And there was Aunt Marguerite, standing in front of the mirror, holding an old-fashioned dress up and staring at herself. Then, as he watched, she’d put it on, moving slowly as she stared into the mirror. Finally, unaware of him standing just outside the door, she went to his grandmother’s dressing table and started combing her hair, piling it up on top of her head and shoving it full of large hairpins.

It made her look strange, and Jeff was beginning to feel he shouldn’t be watching at all when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He jumped violently, about to yelp in surprise, when Ruby’s hand clamped over his mouth and she spun him around to face her.

“What are you doin’ up here?” Ruby demanded, her voice low, but nonetheless clear.

“N-Nothing!” Jeff said as the old woman’s hand fell away from his mouth. “I wasn’t doing anything. I was just—”

“Just spying on your auntie,” Ruby finished for him, her
voice a severe whisper. “Didn’t your mommy ever teach you not to do things like that?”

Jeff tried to twist out of her grip. “I wasn’t,” he protested. “I just saw something in here and came to see what it was.”

Ruby regarded the boy carefully for a moment, then released his shoulder from her grasp. “All right,” she said. “But you run along downstairs and mind your own business.”

A vast surge of relief flowed through Jeff as he realized he was going to face no punishment. He scurried along the hall, then disappeared down the stairs.

But Ruby remained where she was, her eyes glued to Marguerite as the other woman sat in front of the mirror, her hands flying as she arranged her hair in imitation of the style that had been Helena’s favorite so many years ago.

Kevin pushed his chair back from the kitchen table, took his plate to the sink and scraped the remains into the strainer, then rinsed the plate before putting it into the big commercial dishwasher that had been installed the day before, and which Ruby had been complaining about ever since. “Don’t see why we need it,” she’d grumbled even as the plumber had been hooking it up. “Plenty of people around here wouldn’t mind washing dishes, if they got paid for it.” Now, as Kevin dropped his plate into the gleaming stainless steel machine, she pointedly looked the other way.

“I have to go into town to see Sam,” Kevin spoke. “Anyone want a ride?”

Jeff shook his head. “Me and Toby are gonna work on the fort.”

“ ‘Toby and I,’ ” Kevin corrected automatically. “Julie?”

“Some of the kids are coming out to the beach,” she said. “Jenny, and Kerry, and I don’t know who else.”

“Our beach?” Marguerite asked, her brows arching. Julie, her own eyes suddenly worried, turned to her aunt.

“Isn’t it all right?” she asked. “I mean, after Grandmother died you said—”

“Of course,” Marguerite broke in. “I didn’t mean it that
way. You know your friends are welcome. It’s just that—” She hesitated, her eyes going to Kevin as if for help, but when he didn’t seem to sense what she was getting at, she turned back to Julie. “Well, I just wondered if you should be seeing Kerry again, so soon after …” She couldn’t quite bring herself to finish her thought, and her voice trailed off, but Kevin suddenly understood.

“I think it would be good for her,” he decided. “We all need to keep busy, and see people, and if Julie can have a good time with her friends, she certainly ought to.”

“But so soon …” Marguerite repeated, and now Julie looked pleadingly to her father.

“It’s not too soon,” Kevin told his sister. “Things aren’t the way they used to be, and life goes on.” He smiled warmly at his daughter. “You have a good time,” he told her. “And if you want to ask Kerry to stay for dinner, do. It would be good for all of us to have some company for a change.”

“Can I ask Toby?” Jeff asked, his voice eager, and Kevin actually found himself laughing for the first time since Anne had died.

“You bet,” he replied. “Ask anyone you want.” He glanced at his watch then, and started toward the door. “If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to be late.” But Marguerite stopped him before he could leave.

“Kevin, I—well, I’ve been thinking. About Mother’s rooms. I know what I said this morning, but I’ve changed my mind.”

Kevin’s eyes clouded. “Changed your mind? But I thought we’d agreed. Marguerite, I need the rooms. I—”

“I know you need the rooms,” Marguerite interrupted. “But I can’t let you have Mother’s. Not yet. I … well, I just can’t.” She hesitated briefly, then went on. “I’ve decided to move into Mother’s rooms myself, Kevin. You can have my room, and the nursery. With the other rooms, that will make five. Surely that’s enough for now, isn’t it?”

Kevin looked sharply at his sister. “You don’t have to give up your room. Not yet, anyway. I thought we’d decided—”

“But I want to give it up,” Marguerite insisted. “I’ll just
move into Mother’s rooms for a while. It’ll give me time to go through her things and decide what to do with them. Then, by the time the third floor’s ready, I’ll be ready too. It’ll work out fine. Really it will!”

Kevin thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “If it’s really what you want,” he agreed. Then something else occurred to him. “What about the chair lift?” he asked. “Is there any reason not to get rid of it? It’s an eyesore, and that generator Mother had installed in the closet could go downstairs to run the furnace if the electricity goes out.”

Marguerite hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “I—I guess it doesn’t matter,” she said at last. “Do whatever you want.”

Then Kevin was gone, and a moment later Julie, too, left the kitchen, heading upstairs to get ready for her afternoon at the beach.

Jeff stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth, then slid off his chair and started toward the back door, but before he could even open it, Marguerite spoke.

“Where do you think you’re going, young man?” she asked.

The cold sharpness in her voice made Jeff freeze in his tracks and slowly turn around. “Ou-Outside,” he stammered. “Toby’s meeting me at our fort.”

“Is he?” Marguerite asked. “Well, I’m afraid he’s going to have to wait. You have some work to do, don’t you?”

Jeff stared blankly at his aunt. “What?” he asked.

“You can clear off this table, and help Ruby with the dishes.”

Jeff blinked. What was she talking about? He never did the lunch dishes. He and Julie helped with the dinner dishes, but Ruby always did the lunch dishes herself.

“It’s all right,” he heard Ruby saying. “Let the boy go, Miss Marguerite. There’s not much of a mess, and I can—”

“No!” Marguerite snapped, her eyes never leaving Jeff. “It’s time he learned to do a few things around here. He’s already spoiled, and I don’t see—”

Jeff’s temper suddenly snapped, and he glared angrily at his aunt. “I’m not spoiled!” he yelled. “And you’re not my mother, and you can’t tell me what to do!”

Marguerite rose to her feet, her own eyes flashing. “How dare you speak to me like that?” she demanded. “How dare you?” She took a step toward Jeff, but he backed away.

“Don’t you come near me!” he yelled. “You’re crazy! That’s what you are. I saw you this morning, and you’re crazy!” Then he pushed his way through the screen door and fled down the back-porch steps, running down the hill until he disappeared into the thick stand of moss-covered pines.

When he was gone, Marguerite stayed where she was for a moment, then turned and limped stiffly toward the butler’s pantry and the rest of the house beyond.

Ruby, her eyes clouded with worry, watched her go, but said nothing.

Maybe I’m wrong, she told herself as she began clearing up the lunch dishes and loading them, without thinking, into the dishwasher. Maybe it’s nothing at all. Maybe she’s just on edge.

And yet, as she went about her chores, she knew she wasn’t wrong, and that Marguerite wasn’t simply on edge. No, it was more than that.

Perhaps a lot more.

Julie lay on the sand, Kerry sprawled out beside her. It was a quiet day, for all the kids gathered on the beach were friends of Mary-Beth Fletcher’s, and as they had gathered on the island, each of them had wondered what might really have happened to her. But none of them had felt much like talking about it, and in the end they had decided not to talk about Mary-Beth and to try to have a good time.