The Virtuous Woman (12 page)

“I’ll go get her, Mother.”

Cara tried to go back to her book, but she couldn’t help thinking how she had failed to instill a democratic and gracious spirit in Paige. Especially since she had become engaged to John Asquith, she had become quite snobbish.

A few minutes later Paige reentered with a puzzled look. “She’s not in her room.”

“She’s probably outside.”

The two women got up and went outside but found no sign of Grace. Finally they went to the garage, where they found Kevin with his head stuck under the hood of the Oldsmobile.

“Have you seen Grace this morning, Kev?” Cara asked.

Kevin lifted his head. A mark of grease decorated his forehead, and by force of habit he kept his scarred features situated so they could not see them. “Why, yes, Mom. I saw her get a taxicab.”

“A taxi!” Cara was surprised. “Did she say where she was going?”

“No, I just saw her get in.”

“When was that?”

“Oh, about an hour ago. Maybe an hour and a half.”

“Mother, what can we do? There’s no telling what she’ll buy,” Paige moaned.

“It’ll be all right. Don’t worry,” Cara said, but she had a
sinking sensation and wished that Grace had not disappeared so abruptly.

****

“You mean she’s been gone all day?” Brian had come for dinner, bringing his family with him. The children were gathered at the dining table, listening to Phil as he kept them entertained, while Brian and his mother talked in the kitchen.

“She left in a taxi about noon,” Cara said.

“Did she have any money?”

“Yes, her father gave her some to buy new clothes with.”

Brian shook his head. He was neatly dressed in a light gray double-breasted suit with creased and cuffed trousers. A white handkerchief peeked out of his breast pocket, and a large diamond stick pin glittered from his red tie. “Why didn’t you go with her?”

“Paige was going to go with her, but Grace left before she could find her.”

“Well, I hope nothing’s happened to her.”

Cara looked alarmed. “You think something might have?”

“A woman by herself in a city like New York? You know what it’s like in some places downtown.”

“Surely she wouldn’t go there.”

“Mother, you don’t understand her. That’s
exactly
the sort of place she would go.”

“I don’t believe that. She just went out to buy clothes. She’ll be back soon.”

Brian knew his mother was a good woman in every way, but she was a little idealistic. She could not grasp the fact that this girl, who had burst into their lives like an explosion, was almost an alien being. She did not fit in with the world the Winslows inhabited, and the sooner his mother and father came to realize it, the better.

“Let’s go in and join the family,” Brian said. The two went into the smaller of the mansion’s two dining rooms, a beautifully furnished room dominated by a long shiny mahogany
table. The chairs were also made of mahogany, as was a sideboard that stood under a long mirror that reflected the diners. Every spare space was filled with antiques.

Brian pulled out a chair for his mother as he told the others, “I guess we’re not going to wait on Grace.”

Phil was seated beside Scott, and he reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. “We might as well start. Scotty, can you ask the blessing?”

Scott, only four, looked very much like his grandfather, with auburn hair and light cornflower blue eyes. “Sure I can, Grandpa.” The sturdy young fellow bowed his head. “Thank you, God, for the food. Amen.”

Phil could not help laughing. “Well, that’s getting right down to it.”

“I don’t like long blessings, do you, Grandpa?”

“Not very much.”

Paige sat next to her sister-in-law, and Joan said, “Tell me about your plans for the wedding, Paige.”

“Oh, we’re not planning to get married for at least six months.”

“I thought June was the month for weddings.”

“Well, John’s parents are going off on a cruise to Europe, and we’ll have to wait until they come back.”

“What’ll John do while they’re gone?” Joan asked as she ladled some gravy over the mashed potatoes that Logan was begging for. The three-year-old looked so much like his older brother that they were sometimes taken for twins.

“They’ve been trying to get John to go with them, but I’ve been arguing against that,” Paige said.

“Why don’t you two get married and make that your honeymoon?” Phil suggested with a smile. “That way you’ll get to know your in-laws. Taking them with you on the honeymoon seems like a novel idea.”

“Don’t be silly, Daddy!” Paige said crossly. She knew that her father had little admiration for the older Asquiths, and it disturbed her. “It takes time to get ready for a big wedding.”

“It didn’t take us long to get ready for ours, did it, Cara?”

“No, it didn’t,” she said. “But then you stole me.”

“I’ve always thought that was so romantic.” Paige smiled at the thought. Cara had had a domineering father who frowned on his daughter’s choice of a husband, and Phil and Cara had practically eloped. At the last minute, however, Cara’s father had appeared at the church and given the bride away.

The mealtime conversation continued in a pleasant vein, but all of the adults were silently wondering about Grace.

Finally Brian lifted his head. “Listen, there’s a car coming up.”

They all stopped talking except for Angel, the little girl who was almost two, who was telling a story until her mother put her hand over her mouth. “Hush, Angel. Listen.”

The front door opened and then closed, and Phil rose and said, “I’ll go tell her we’re in the dining room.”

He started toward the door, but just as he did, Grace appeared, followed by a man in a dark blue suit.

“Hello, Grace,” Phil said. “We’ve been worried about you.”

“Why, hello, Popsy,” she said and laughed meaninglessly. Her eyes were slightly glazed, and her steps were unsteady as she entered the dining room. “Sorry to be late, but I met up with Vic here, and we decided to go out and do the town. Vic, this is my brand-new family.”

The man called Vic was tall and thin, and his hair was slicked back on his head. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Vic Costello. Nice place ya got here.”

Grace looked at the family gathered around the table and was sober enough to see the displeasure on most of the faces. “What’s wrong with you?” she said loudly. “Ain’t you never seen a good-lookin’ guy before?”

Phil saw the situation getting out of control, and he said quickly, “Come in and sit down.”

But Grace was looking at Brian and saw his scowl. “What’sa matter, brother? You too stuck up to meet anybody new?”

Brian flushed and said, “Grace, you’ve been drinking.”

“Sure I been drinkin’. What about it?”

“Maybe you’d like to go up to your room, dear,” Cara said. Her face was pale, and her hands were so unsteady she had to clasp them together.

Paige was glaring at the pair. “What do you mean getting drunk and bringing a total stranger into our home! Don’t you have any decency?”

“Well, la-di-da!” Grace spat back. She glared at Paige and then laughed coarsely. “It wouldn’t do you no harm to get a real man. Ain’t that right, Kev?”

When Kevin said nothing, anger swept through Grace. “For pete’s sake, this is some dull bunch! Come on, Vic, let’s get outta here and find us a livelier crowd.”

“It’s too late, Grace,” Phil said. He moved quickly to stand close to her. “It would be better if you didn’t go.”

Grace scowled at him. “A little late for you to be wondering about your wanderin’ daughter, ain’t it, Pops?”

“I think you’d better go, Mr. Costello.”

“I’ll go with him,” Grace said. She started for the door but was so drunk she had difficulty staying on her feet.

Only Phil’s quick reaction stopped her from falling. He grabbed her arm and held her upright. “Good night, young man.”

Costello’s face grew hard. “It’s your house,” he said.

“Gimme a call tomorrow, Vic,” Grace mumbled.

Costello turned and walked away, his back stiff.

“He’s an important guy,” Grace muttered.

Phil put his arm around her as she slumped against him. “You’d better go to bed, Grace.”

She blinked her eyes, and her head rolled slightly. “I guess I am a little high. Maybe I better hit the sack.” She looked around the table and saw the horrified glances. “Well,” she said with a giggle, “I bet none of your other kids ever came in drunk, did they?”

Cara rose quickly and took Grace’s other arm. “Come along, dear.”

As Phil and Cara left, escorting Grace between them, Scott asked curiously, “What’s wrong with that lady?”

“She’s not feeling well, dear,” Joan said.

Brian and Paige exchanged glances. Both were stunned by the enormity of this family disaster.

Seeing the expression on their faces, Kevin said quietly, “We’ve got to remember where she came from.”

“Well, she’s not where she came from now,” Brian snapped. “I think it’s too late for her.”

Kevin did not answer. His eyes were troubled, and he simply shook his head.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Party

Grace woke up with a start and looked around wildly. For several seconds she was confused, not knowing where she was, but then her memory came pouring back. She looked down and saw that she was still wearing one of the two dresses she had bought for herself, and a sense of shame came over her. Throwing the blanket back, she saw that her shoes had been removed. She vaguely remembered buying the dress and then going into a bar. She had been drinking, and a man named Vic had talked to her—but from then on it was hazy. Like a kaleidoscope, she remembered a series of bars and dancing and then resisting Vic’s advances.

She stood up abruptly, then closed her eyes tightly, for a headache struck her like a red-hot ice pick being pressed through her temples. She held on to her head for a moment as she swayed. She took a deep breath, then slowly moved her hands and opened her eyes. She walked carefully to the window and looked out, noting that it was sometime in the morning, for the sun was not far up in the sky. The grass was bright green, and the large oak trees that framed the driveway were bright with their early spring growth. As she stood there, she remembered fighting Vic off in the taxi on the way back to the house. She had a horrible taste in her mouth, as she always did when she drank too much, and felt disgusted with herself. She always hated the morning after her drinking binges because she suffered frighteningly painful
hangovers, yet despite the consequences, she continued to drink too much.

Finally she turned from the window and went to the bathroom adjoining her room. She drew a hot bath, undressed, and soaked in the tub until her head felt better. She rinsed and got out, drying off with a fluffy white towel, then put on the new underwear she had bought, pleased with the silkiness of the garments. She slipped into her other new dress, even though she knew—despite the high price—that it was not the sort of dress a young Winslow woman would wear. It was too tight and the color was too bold—a brilliant peacock blue. But to her it was beautiful, and if Paige didn’t like it, that was just too bad. She put on her stockings and shoes, then sat down on the vanity and brushed her hair. She was sorry now she hadn’t washed it when she was in the bath, for she realized it smelled of smoke. But she didn’t feel well enough to go to the bother now. She studied her image in the mirror and began to put on her makeup. She had noticed that Cara used almost no makeup, and Paige used it sparingly. She thought about experimenting with less, but a defiance rose in her, and she quickly lavished on her favorite red lipstick and applied even more eyeliner than usual.

Finally she pulled on the jacket she had bought. It was made of a smooth lightweight wool and felt good in the morning coolness of the house. She went down to the kitchen, where she found a short, heavyset woman working at the sink. She assumed this must be the cook, whom she had not yet met.

The woman turned and said, “Good morning. You must be Miss Grace. I’m Betty, the Winslows’ cook.”

“Good morning, Betty.”

“You want some breakfast?”

“No, just coffee.”

“You ought to eat some breakfast. It ain’t good to go without eatin’ in the morning.”

“Well, maybe a piece of toast with some jam.”

“You sit down and I’ll fix it for you.”

Glad enough to obey the cook’s order, Grace sat down and laced her coffee heavily with sugar and cream. When the toast came, she buttered it and put a thick layer of blackberry jam on it.

“I done make that blackberry jam myself. You like it?”

“It’s real good. How do you make blackberry jam?”

Betty looked at her wryly, her eyebrow lifted. “You don’t know how to make jam? Why, there ain’t nothin’ to it. You first pick the ripest, plumpest berries you can find, then wash ’em and crush ’em in a big saucepan. You add water and sugar, heat it to boilin’, and stir until the sugar’s dissolved. You boil it till it’s thick, then you put it in jars and cover ’em with wax. How come you don’t cook, I wonder?”

“I never learned to do much except open cans.”

“Maybe I can learn you how to cook a little if you wants to know.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She nibbled at the toast. “How long you been workin’ here?”

“Twelve years. Me and Luke, we come here right after we got married. He’s a regular handyman, he is. Fixes things, does some of the rough cleanin’ and the like.”

Grace ate her toast while Betty told her about some of the things Luke had fixed. She felt somewhat better by the time her toast and coffee were gone. “Thanks, Betty.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Grace. Your mama’s gone with Miss Paige, but your daddy is workin’ in his studio.”

“Oh? I’ve never been there.”

“It’s up on the third floor. It’s fixed up real nice and you get a wonderful view of the grounds from the big windows. You go up the stairs, turn to your left, and there’s some more stairs.”

“Thanks, Betty.”

Leaving the kitchen, Grace made her way up both sets of stairs and paused outside the heavy oak door. She was ashamed to face Phil, but she preferred to face up to things
rather than put them off. She opened the door and saw Phil standing in front of an easel by one of the tall windows.