Claire at Sixteen (7 page)

“Five minutes,” Evvie replied. “Seven tops.”

Claire smiled. Aunt Grace didn't scare her any. Why Thea should be scared of a ninety-year-old escaped her. Not that she'd care to spend much time with the old lady. But what time she spent, she intended to use wisely.

“Girls,” Aunt Grace said, walking into the parlor. She used a cane, and looked a little steadier on her feet than Sybil did. “I see you've come as you said you would.”

“Aunt Grace,” Evvie said, walking over to her to exchange a perfunctory kiss. Thea followed, and then Claire. Of the four of them, only Claire was smiling.

“You look like your father,” Aunt Grace said to Claire. “Grinning that way.”

Claire had never seen Nicky grin, although she knew he used his smile to great effect. She doubted she was grinning, either, but there was no reason to quibble. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I'll try to be more somber.”

Aunt Grace harrumphed, and sat down on a Victorian love seat that looked old, mean, and uncomfortable. They belonged together, Claire decided, sitting on a chair that wasn't the kind a person lingered on. Thea and Evvie sat next to each other on a couch.

“Where's that Steinmetz boy?” Aunt Grace asked. “The one you drag along on your visits to me.”

“There's only one Steinmetz boy,” Evvie pointed out. “And he's on his way to Long Island right now to visit his grandparents.”

“Dare I hope this means the two of you are no longer together?” Aunt Grace asked.

Evvie shook her head. “Don't dare,” she replied. “We intend to be together for the rest of our lives.”

Claire marveled at how matter-of-factly Evvie said that. When Nicky and Megs pledged eternal love, they got operatic. Claire definitely preferred the no-nonsense approach.

“So,” Aunt Grace said. “Thea. How is college?”

“Fine, Aunt Grace,” Thea squeaked.

“I never went to college,” Aunt Grace declared. “In my day, attending finishing school was all a really well-bred girl required. Of course, your breeding lacks the social amenities, to be polite about it.”

“You're not being polite,” Evvie said. “And nowadays, they don't even have finishing schools.”

“A shame,” Aunt Grace said. “Perhaps at a finishing school, you might have learned some manners.”

“I doubt it,” Evvie said. “How are you feeling these days?”

“Very well, thank you,” Aunt Grace replied. “It should be many years before my will is read.”

Evvie laughed. “I'll tell Nicky not to wait, then,” she said. “But try to give us two weeks' notice.”

“I see your affiliation with that Steinmetz boy has done nothing to improve you,” Aunt Grace said. “And you, Claire. What do you think about all this?”

“I'm glad you're feeling well,” Claire replied. “And I hope I'll be in your will.”

Thea stared in horror, but after a long terrible moment, Aunt Grace laughed. “An honest answer,” she said. “Perhaps you're not completely your father's daughter, after all. And how is Sybil?”

“She's at another rehab center,” Evvie said. “They're running more tests.”

“There's a foolish business,” Aunt Grace said. “I'd gladly pay for treatment if I could be sure that Nick wouldn't find some way to embezzle the money and use it for his own purposes.”

“That's totally unfair,” Thea said. “Nicky loves Sybil and he would never hurt her.”

“It doesn't matter,” Aunt Grace said. “He refuses to accept any aid from me. Perhaps because he cannot abide my terms. I don't know why the man should expect to be trusted when his life is a lie and he corrupts the very souls of all he claims he loves.”

“You
are
feeling well,” Evvie said. “I haven't heard you this nasty in months.”

“Having all of you beside me brings it out in me,” Aunt Grace replied. “Especially you, Claire. One would never know you were in any part a Winslow.”

“An accident of genes,” Claire said.

“Claire's lucky to look like Nicky,” Thea said. “Nicky is so handsome.”

“And you are so foolish,” Aunt Grace said.

Thea looked as if she was going to start crying. Evvie looked fairly pained herself. Only Claire and, presumably, Aunt Grace were enjoying themselves.

The largest cat Claire had ever seen strolled into the parlor. He stretched out languorously, and nestled on top of Aunt Grace's feet.

“Shoo,” Aunt Grace said, waving helplessly at the cat with her cane. “Get off me, you terrible animal.”

Evvie laughed. Trouble, the cat, looked up at Grace, purred, and rested his head against her left ankle.

“Stop laughing,” Aunt Grace said. “It's bad enough you and that Steinmetz boy are still together. Did this damn fool cat have to live as well?”

“The way you feed him, he can't last much longer,” Evvie said. “How many cans of cat food does he get a day?”

“No cat of mine would eat cat food,” Aunt Grace declared. “Not even this one. He eats what I eat, and if he doesn't like it, then he can simply go hungry, or catch a mouse, or take the train to Cambridge and ask that Steinmetz boy to feed him.”

Evvie laughed even harder. “He seems to like what you eat,” she said. “He's only four. Doesn't he ever exercise?”

“He gets exercise enough bothering me,” Aunt Grace replied. “Sleeping on my bed, clawing at my furniture. He ruined a Louis Quinze chair that's been in the family since before the revolution.”

“Which revolution?” Claire asked. “French or American?”

“American,” Aunt Grace said. “And therefore French as well.” But she gave Claire a grudging look of admiration. Claire tried not to grin.

Trouble swatted lazily in the vicinity of Aunt Grace's big toe. She kicked him and he purred some more.

“The cat thrives on abuse,” Aunt Grace said. “Not unlike Margaret.”

“That does it,” Thea said. “I didn't come here to hear my parents insulted.”

“I was not insulting your mother,” Aunt Grace declared. “I wasn't even insulting your father. I was simply speaking the truth.”

“Evvie, can't we go now?” Thea pleaded. “How long do we have to stay and listen to this?”

“Aunt Grace,” Evvie said. “You know you don't want to chase us out like this. You know you like seeing us. You're always complaining to Clark that I don't visit you often enough, and this time I brought Thea and Claire as well.”

“I don't care for your visits,” Aunt Grace replied. “It's that Steinmetz boy I enjoy seeing. He brings me things: books, and flowers, even this cat. He's wooing me. It isn't that I care for him particularly, but I like the things he brings me.”

“I brought you Thea and Claire,” Evvie said. “The two together are almost as good as Trouble.”

“You overestimate them,” Aunt Grace said. “I've had my look. I see Thea is still as pretty as she ever was, and every bit as foolish.”

“I am not foolish,” Thea said.

Aunt Grace raised her eyebrows scornfully. “And this one,” she said, gesturing toward Claire. “She might have some intelligence, I suppose, but it doesn't matter, encased in her appearance.”

“I think you're right,” Claire said. “At least that's what I've always assumed about myself.”

“Claire!” Thea said. “You're more than just a pretty face.”

“I know,” Claire said. “You're a pretty face. I'm a beautiful one.”

“That does it,” Thea said. “Evvie, I'm leaving. I do not need stereophonic insults.”

Evvie nodded. “Aunt Grace, I'm sure you'll understand if we go now,” she said. “Before we start challenging each other to duels.”

“You have no inner strength,” Aunt Grace declared. “There's weakness inside you. It comes from your father.”

“Fine,” Evvie said. “Come on, Claire, we're leaving.”

“I think I'll stay a while longer,” Claire said. “You two go now. I'll meet you back at the apartment.”

“What are you talking about?” Thea asked. “Why do you want to stay here?”

“I like Aunt Grace,” Claire replied. “And she can abuse Nicky to her heart's content as far as I'm concerned. I'll get home somehow. Maybe Aunt Grace's chauffeur can drive me.”

“If you want Claire to leave, just say so,” Evvie said. “It's up to you, Aunt Grace.”

“She can stay,” Aunt Grace replied. “Thea, Evvie, it was good to see you. And tell that Steinmetz boy to visit me soon. Perhaps this time I can convince him to take this wretched cat back with him.”

“Good luck,” Evvie said. She walked over and kissed Aunt Grace good-bye. Thea didn't bother. The girls got their coats, and left. Claire continued sitting in her uncomfortable chair and wondered about the monetary value of all the furnishings the cat had destroyed.

“So,” Aunt Grace said. “Why did you decide to remain?”

“I do like you,” Claire said. “I always did. I like the way you're rich and stingy. I like how you didn't even offer us tea, and that's hardly more than hot water. When I'm rich, I intend to be stingy as well. Nicky and Megs spend much too freely.”

“So you've stayed to sweet-talk me?” Aunt Grace asked. “That's right. You do have a birthday coming, don't you?”

“In two months,” Claire said. “And I admit money would be handy. But that's not why I stayed.”

Aunt Grace shifted her weight, and Trouble moved along with her. Trouble reminded Claire just a little of Scotty, glued first to Thea, and soon, she expected, to herself. She hoped, when the time came, he'd be easier to get rid of than Trouble seemed to be.

“Do you want tea?” Aunt Grace asked. “I didn't think young girls drank tea anymore.”

“I want information,” Claire replied. “Tea is more Thea's thing than mine.”

“Information can be gotten over the telephone,” Aunt Grace said. “Just dial the right digits.”

“Not this sort of information,” Claire said. “I want to know about Sebastian Prescott.”

Aunt Grace stared at Claire. “So Evvie finally told you,” she said. “I'm surprised Thea wasn't in tears about the whole business. She cries so easily.”

“Thea doesn't know,” Claire said. “And Evvie didn't tell me nearly enough.”

“She can't have forgotten what was in the detective's report,” Aunt Grace declared. “Margaret probably has, she has such blinders about Nick, but Evvie is more sensible than that. In spite of her feelings about that Steinmetz boy.”

“Evvie didn't say how she found out about Sebastian Prescott,” Claire said. “Merely who he was.”

“And who did she say he was?” Aunt Grace asked.

Claire knew her bluff was being called. She didn't care for her options, but she knew what they were. She could either admit she didn't know for certain herself, or she could say what she thought. If she guessed wrong, she could then either blame it on Evvie, or hope that Aunt Grace wouldn't tell anybody else about what a fool she'd made of herself. The woman was ninety, after all, and could easily die before letting everybody know about Claire's ridiculous assumptions.

Trying to force the information out of Aunt Grace wouldn't work. Blaming Evvie was distasteful to her. Therefore, it was either hope she'd guessed right, or pray for Aunt Grace's silence.

“Sebastian Prescott is Nicky's father,” Claire said.

“I'm glad to see Evvie hasn't forgotten all the lessons I tried to teach her that summer,” Aunt Grace said. “Although she never seemed to care for my instructions.”

Claire wasn't sure, but she thought that was a confirmation. “It's in the detective's report?” she asked. “About Sebastian Prescott being Nicky's father?”

“Certainly,” Aunt Grace said. “I hired a reputable firm to find out everything they could about Nick Sebastian that summer. I tried to use the information to convince Margaret that he was unworthy of her, that she should never see him again. But there is no reasoning with a sixteen-year-old, especially one in love with a handsome, dangerous man.”

Claire nodded, and tried to keep from shaking. It was one thing to guess that Sebastian Prescott was Nicky's father. It was another thing to have it confirmed. “I don't understand why Nicky's last name isn't Prescott,” she said. “Sons usually take their father's last names, not their first ones.”

“Nowadays I suppose that's what's done with bastards,” Aunt Grace said. “Moral standards have decayed so, people now flaunt their illegitimate offspring. But when Nick was conceived, a man, especially a married man, didn't show the world his dirty laundry.”

“So Nicky's mother named him Sebastian?” Claire asked.

“Nick's mother named him George Keefer,” Aunt Grace said. “It's all in the detective's report. Would you care to read it?”

“No,” Claire said. “I like the way you tell it.” George Keefer? Nicky was really named George Keefer? And Evvie had known for how long, four years? Sam knew, too. And Megs, and Nicky, and none of them had breathed a word. Claire couldn't wait to go home and call her father Georgie.

“Sebastian Prescott was a businessman somewhere, one of those unimportant southern cities,” Aunt Grace said. “He had a cheap little affair with his secretary. Men did it all the time in those days. Presumably they still do. The secretary got pregnant, and Prescott paid her some money, a thousand dollars or so, to keep her mouth shut. She had the baby and put ‘father unknown' on the birth certificate. I always thought that was rather honorable of her, but of course it's possible it was a state requirement for illegitimate births.”

Poor Nicky, Claire thought, and then realized, much to her surprise, she meant it. Poor Nicky. He must have been mortified by the whole business not to have used his illegitimacy as another charming weapon. “But she didn't give the baby up for adoption,” Claire said.