Betrayal (5 page)

Every time she’d talk about having my hair trimmed I’d cry and stomp. Thinking she could lull me into it, she made reservations for us at an upscale spa. We had pedicures and manicures. However, it was as they moved me to a stylist’s chair that I figured out their devious plan. I screamed at the stylist and my mother as I ran to the car.

Even now I remembered her ashen expression of disappointment and embarrassment. Per her usual response, I was sent to my room. It was all right: my hair would eventually get me to freedom.

That evening after Alton came home, I was summoned to the grand hall. When I arrived there was a chair. I didn’t understand at first and asked where my mother was. He said she was resting, too upset over my behavior to leave her room. Then he told me to sit in the chair. One by one the entire Montague Manor staff materialized around me until the hall was full of eyes.

That was when I learned about the staff’s ability to see and yet not see. That was my first lesson. He told me matter-of-factly that neither a Montague nor a Fitzgerald behaved in the manner I had. I reminded him I wasn’t a Montague or a Fitzgerald. I was a Collins.

He said that my behavior was unacceptable in public or in private, and if I wanted to behave like a common street urchin, then I could look the part. It wasn’t until he stood back and a man I recognized as one of the gardeners came forward with large shears that I understood what he was saying.

Alton wasn’t the one who cut my hair, and the cut wasn’t a trim. He and the rest of the staff watched as two other members of the grounds crew held me down and the other man cut. By the time he was done, my tears and fright had faded to whimpers and the room of eyes had disappeared, evaporated away. I was left alone with my stepfather in the grand hall in a chair surrounded by chunks of red hair.

“You will not tell your mother about this.” It was the first time he told me that, but not the last.

I wondered how he thought she wouldn’t know. After all, the entire staff had witnessed what had happened and with one glance she’d see that my once-long hair had been butchered. But my lesson in Fitzgerald / Montague living wasn’t complete.

After Alton made me sweep the lengths of hair from the floor, he handed me off to Jane, both my nanny and friend. She was the one who read me my bedtime stories when I was little and tucked me into bed. As I aged, her role in the household morphed. Her responsibilities grew, but always she was there for me.

That evening, as she held me, she promised to make it better. She wouldn’t let me look in the mirror, but I could feel it. It was almost my bedtime when Jane brought a woman to my room and explained that the woman would do the best she could to make my hair pretty. I was only ten, but I was certain that
pretty
wasn’t possible.

With delicate scissors, the woman snipped and clipped. When she was done, it was the smile on Jane’s face that gave me the courage to look at myself in the mirror. The cut was even and maybe even stylish, but it was short and I felt like a boy. It wasn’t until Jane tucked me in that I finally understood: my hair wasn’t the only thing that was gone. So was any hope of escape.

Jane explained that I’d thrown a temper tantrum about the salon. In my own rage I’d taken scissors to my long hair. I cut some places so short that the only way to fix it was to cut it all off. Though she told me the story with determination in her voice, I saw the sadness in her eyes and knew that she was telling me the story my mother would hear. And it was.

I straightened my neck, my long ponytail sliding across my back, and resumed my walk toward my room. The memory reminded my why I’d successfully avoided this house and room for nearly four years. Though my stomach turned, I was now an adult. I could make it for one night.

“Oh!” I exclaimed as I entered my room. It wasn’t the sight of my canopy bed or flowered wallpaper that excited me. My heart leapt at the sight of the woman standing beside my bed. Her smooth, dark skin had a few wrinkles and her brown eyes were older, but they’d been my anchor. I’d assumed that after I left Savannah, her job would no longer exist, or Alton would find a way to get rid of her. “Jane! You’re still here.”

She wrapped me in the warmest hug I’d had since I arrived. “Child, of course I’m still here. Where did you think I’d go?”

When I was little, Jane seemed so old, but now I saw her as closer to my mother’s age, actually younger. Memories spun through my mind like a carousel. It was everything: the bedroom, the house, and the grounds. It was the sense of imprisonment and the love of the woman squeezing my shoulders.

“I don’t know.” I squeezed her too. “You’re the best surprise I’ve had since I arrived.”

Her cheeks rose and a dimple appeared. “Look at you! You’re all grown up.” She tapped the top drawer of my bedside stand and let out a low whistle. “I’m glad I was the one who unpacked your things.”

My cheeks filled with crimson. “I guess I am. Grown up
and
also glad it was you.”

She spun me around. “And look at you! So pretty! You’re going to be a big, fancy lawyer.”

I nodded. “That’s the plan.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” It was the sincerest statement I’d made since I returned.

She walked into the closet and came out with a pink sundress. “Your momma’s been real excited about your visit. She’s been shopping.”

“Oh please, Jane. We all know my momma doesn’t need a reason to shop.”

Jane winked at me. “Did I hear that you’re not Alexandria anymore?”

I nodded. “That’s right. I’m Alex.” Just saying the name gave me strength. “I’m Alex Collins.”

“Well, look at you, all-grown-up Alex Collins. I know you don’t need no nanny, but maybe for tonight, could you settle for an old friend? After your dinner, maybe I can come back up here and we can catch up. You can tell me all about California.”

The black hole of Montague Manor evaporated. In a room I hated, I remembered how I’d survived. “Under one condition,” I said with a grin.

“What would that be?” she asked with a wink.

“You sneak some mint chocolate chip ice cream up here and we find my old DVD of
A Knight’s Tale
.”

Jane walked to the bookcase and immediately pulled out the DVD. In a low voice she whispered, “I bought two pints! Now hurry up: the sooner that dinner’s over, the sooner we can eat that ice cream and ogle at Heath Ledger.”

“Thank you, Jane.”

“Really? A pretty woman like you willing to spend the night with an old lady like me? I should be thanking you.”

As she spoke I walked into the attached bathroom. All my toiletries from my suitcase were neatly arranged on the counter. When I looked into the mirror, the haunted girl who’d walked up the stairs was gone. In her place was Alex Collins. I splashed my face with water and let down my hair. It wasn’t as red as it’d been when I was ten, but it was long and flowed over my shoulders with waves that spilled down my back. After a few swipes with the brush I said, “Okay, I’m ready to get this dog and pony show going.”

Jane’s smile monopolized her entire face. It was a phrase she’d used for most of my youth. She’d remind me that the Montague way of life was nothing more than show, a display for the outside world. Whenever I’d be forced to attend a public function or do something I didn’t want to do, she’d make me feel better by reminding me that it was all
a dog and pony show
. It helped. I could do whatever I was supposed to do as long as I remembered who I really was. She’d tell me that pretty on the outside wasn’t as important as pretty on the inside. And she’d always remind me of how beautiful she thought I was.

Her smile dimmed. “You forgot to put on that dress your momma bought.”

“No,” I said with the confidence I’d almost forgotten I possessed. “I didn’t forget. Alexandria doesn’t live here anymore.”

“You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

“Thank you, Jane. So are you.”

THE MURMURED CONVERSATION
between Alton and my mother turned to silence as I stepped into the dining room. I watched with satisfaction as red crept from the starched collar of Alton’s shirt like a tide, making its way up his thick neck to the tips of his ears. Time had changed his once blonde hair to white. I fought back my smile as something about the contrast of the reddening of his skin and the white of his hair amused me. With the vein in his forehead popping to attention and his jaw clenched, he pushed back his chair. As he was about to stand, my mother reached for his hand and turned toward me. The eerie calmness of her voice threatened to transport me back in time.

Then I saw the glass of red liquid, a cabernet wine, and I gave myself permission to smile. As a child I never realized the depth of my mother’s self-medication. White wine during the day and red at night: Montague Manor didn’t need clocks. We could tell the time by the color of the drink in my mother’s glass. Occasionally, other names were used: mimosa or sangria. It was all the same. Adelaide Fitzgerald lived her life in a blissful state of serenity because without it, she would have had to face the gruesome reality. She wasn’t strong enough to do that ten years ago. She sure as hell wasn’t strong enough today.

But I was.

“Alexandria, dear…” Her words never slurred. “Didn’t you find the dresses I bought for you?”

“I did. Thank you.” The programmed words weren’t totally insincere. The dress Jane showed me was lovely—for a teenager. “It’s late and I had a few text messages to answer. I know how you like to eat at precisely seven. Seeing that you held dinner for me, I didn’t want to make you wait any longer.”

The text part wasn’t a lie either. I just hadn’t responded to them yet. I wasn’t sure how I wanted to answer Chelsea. I’d messaged her to let her know I’d landed. It was in response to
How are you holding up?
that rendered me at a loss for words. Since I was someone with a degree in English, words should be my forte.

“Well, it is just us tonight,” she reasoned. “Tomorrow will be different.”

The fork I’d just lifted grew heavy. My hand landed upon the tablecloth with an exasperated sigh. “Tomorrow? Mother, I can’t stay. I have things that need to be done. I have a life.”

“You’re staying until after our meeting on Monday,” Alton replied.

“What meeting?”

Mother pressed her lips into a disapproving straight line toward her husband. “Let’s not get into all of that. We have the whole weekend before we need to worry about that.”

“That
what
?” I asked again.

A young woman entered from the kitchen with a pitcher of water. Her presence left my question floating unanswered in the air.

“Water, miss?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ll also have a glass of cabernet.”

Her eyes widened and she turned toward Alton. Ever so slightly he nodded.

Asshole.
If they planned to keep me trapped in this house for three full days, it would take more than mint chocolate chip ice cream to get me through.

“Leave the bottle,” I said as she poured my glass.

The back of my throat clenched as I sipped the thick liquid. Unquestionably, the wine from the Montague wine cellar was more expensive than what I purchased at the grocery. I savored the dry cedar-wood flavor.

When I had control over my trust fund, I would consider spending more money on my wine. The taste I’d just enjoyed reminded me that it would be money well spent. As I inhaled the fine aroma, a recent memory came back and filled me with warmth.

I’d rather be drinking wine in Del Mar with him than sitting in this stuffy dining room.

“I’m not sure I approve of the way you’ve changed while away at school.” Alton’s words were as dry as the wine.

Lifting my brows, I tilted my head. “I’m not sure I approve of the way things have stayed the same here.”

“Please,” my mother began. “Alexandria, I’m delighted to have you home, if only for a few days. Can you please make an attempt to get along…” She took a long drink from her glass and eyed the bottle. “…for me?”

Alton poured her another glass. I sighed and began to eat my salad. It wasn’t until the main course was served that I remembered our earlier discussion.

“What is happening tomorrow night?”

My mother’s eyes came back to life. “Well, since it’s been so long since you’ve been home, and we need to celebrate your graduation, I’ve invited a few friends over.”

My stomach sank. So much for coming in and getting out of Savannah unnoticed. “A few friends?” I asked.

“Yes. It would’ve been bigger, but this was all done on short notice and as you know, many of our friends vacation this time of year.”

“Most of the people I know work this time of year.”

“Really, Alexandria?” Alton questioned. “How has your job been? Last I heard you were at an expensive spa in Southern California.”

I turned his direction. “Why would you know that? Are you having me followed?”

“No.” The word spewed forth as if the idea was preposterous. “Your mother is still listed on your trust. It’s Ralph’s job to keep us informed.”