Inheritance (4 page)

She told Laura which houses belonged to the other family members, and where they lived the rest of the year—mostly New York, California, and Boston. And she told her who was in granmiar school, high school, and college, who was working and where, and who spent most of the year in Europe.

Gradually Laura put together a picture of the whole family, even though she hadn't yet met most of them. Owen was in Canada, visiting friends; Asa and his family would not arrive from Boston for another week; Leni's sister, Barbara Janssen, her husband, Thomas, and their son, Paul, were returning from Europe in two weeks; others had arrived at the Cape but

Judith Michael

were always sailing or taking flying lessons or shopping, and when they came to Felix and Leni's for dinner Laura had either left for the day or was working in the kitchen while the maids served.

"You could serve," Rosa said, studying her. "You're not bad looking, you're quick and neat, yoU have a nice smile which you don't use often enough and if someone asked you to do something, you'd remember it. What a memory you have! I told Leni you'd memorized everything in the kitchen in one day; never have I seen such a memory, I told her."

Laura flushed and turned away, striking her elbow against the table. "Shit," she muttered, nursing it.

"But you're not ready," Rosa went on. "You need to be smoothed out. A real lady doesn't use vulgarity, my young miss. A real lady doesn't have a temper, either, and I've seen signs of one in you. And you have a lot to learn. You'll find this family is very big on form, and you don't know which side to serve or take a plate from, or how to bring somebody a clean knife, or when to refill a water glass. It's a wonder to me those people wrote those fabulous letters about you, unless of course they just liked your smile."

Laura flushed again and concentrated on slicing red peppers. "I didn't serve; I worked in kitchens."

"My eye," Rosa said pleasantly. "You never worked in a kitchen, my little Laura, not a decent one, anyway, unless it was to wash dishes and scrub the floor." She watched Laura's face. "You needn't worry, I'm not about to tell anyone, or ask questions, either. I've been there myself, you know, a long time ago: poor and hungry and willing to do any job people would give me. I'm sure you worked hard for those people; I'm sure they liked you and that's why they wrote those letters. You'll find I'm very big on instincts, and my instinct says I trust you."

Laura's hand slipped and the blade slashed her finger. "Danm it!" she cried, slamming the knife on the counter. Tears filled her eyes. She wanted to curl up inside the circle of Rosa's plump arms; she wanted to tell her how wonderful it was to be in her warm kitchen with her warm voice and her trust. But she had to hold it all back, just as she had to keep her distance from Leni and Allison. She couldn't return Rosa's

Inheritance

trust, she couldn*t let herself like anyone in this family, she couldn't let down her guard.

She was there to rob them. And she couldn't ever let herself forget it.

The hallway was silent and cool and her feet slid silently on the hardwood floor as she opened doors for a quick survey, then closed them to go on to the next room. She had already sketched the first floor: Owen's house, at one end, was a blank, since she'd never been inside, but she had drawn the kitchen at the other end, and the hill width of the house stretching between them, with a long porch in front and the wide glassed-in gallery along the back, opening onto the living room, den and dining room.

Now, for the first time, she was on the second floor. Guest rooms across the back of the house, each with its own bath; Allison's suite along the whole east side — bigger than our apartment in New York — then Felix's office, bedroom, dressing room and bath, then Leni's sitting room, dressing room and bath, and her bedroom on the west side.

That was the one she wanted. Silently she opened the bedroom door and slipped inside, taking in with a swift glance the seafoam and ivory colors, ivory shag rugs on gleaming hardwood floors, the bed in the next room draped in seafoam silk and ivory lace. The rooms were cool and serene, like Leni. Laura thought of what it would be like to come to a mother in rooms like these, and curl up and talk about the things she worried about.

Well, I never will, that's all. And it doesn't matter; fve outgrown that.

She had to hurry. She surveyed the spacious rooms with a more calculating eye. Sitting room desk, coffee table and ar-moire—all of them with drawers. In the bedroom and adjoining dressing room, four bureaus and a dressing table, nightstands flanking the bed, a wall of closets. Swifdy and silently, Laura opened them all, her slender fingers slipping among silk and cotton and lace without disturbing one perfect fold; she looked beneath the furniture without moving it; she tilted pictures from the walls without changing one angle.

Nothing, nothing . . . where would she keep them . . .

Judith Michael

there's no scfe . . . Then she came to the last closet, and found it locked. Finally . . . She knelt before it. She could get it open; she'd done it so many times. She reached in her pocket for the small set of steel picks Ben had bought her for her birthday, and it was at that moment that the sitting room door opened.

"What the hell—!" Allison's voice exclaimed. She stood in the doorway, her eyes changing as she recognized Laura. "A burglar!" she cried in mock alarm. "How terrifying! But I know you! Rosa's new assistant . . . yes?"

Laura nodded. She had leaped to her feet but she was dizzy and her legs were weak, and she leaned against the closet. Her throat was dry, her heart was pounding; she thrust her clenched fists deep inside the pockets of her uniform to hide the picks in her shaking hands. Rosa had said Allison wasn't due back from Maine until tomorrow, and everyone else was spending the day on Felix's yacht. It was supposed to be empty up here all ctftemoon.

"But what are you doing in my mother's room . . . Laura, isn't it? Have we started cooking dinner up here? Or were you looking for my great-grandmother's sterling that she brought over from Austria? It isn't here; Rosa could have told you it's in the dining room conunode."

Laura shook her head. "I wasn't looking— ** She cleared] her dry throat. "I wasn't looking for sterling." She took a step^ forward. "I ought to be downstairs . . ."

"Indeed you should. But first let's have a talk." Allisoi strode across the room, grasped Laura's arm, and forced her walk beside her out of the room, down the full length of the hall, and into anotiier suite at the opposite comer from Leni's. "This is mine. Perfectly private. Sit down." Laura stood indecisively. "I said, sit down."

Laura sat down. Her white cotton uniform seemed plain and harsh in the delicate white wicker chair witii its chintz cush-i(m. The room was bright and airy, in gold and white with lamps and throw pillows of sea green and indigo blue. It seemed that all the colors of the Cape were there, shimmering in the sunlight that streamed across the ocean and the beach and the smooth lawns of the estate for the sole purpose of brightening Allison Salinger's rooms.

Inheritance

Finally Laura's eyes rested on the stack of suitcases in the comer of the room. "I came back early," Allison said. "I was exceedingly bored." She had watched Laura survey the sitting room and the bedroom, visible through its open door, and now she gave her a keen look. "Maybe this isn't the first time you've been here." Laura, frozen in her chair, said nothing. "Have you already been here?"

Laura shook her head.

"My God, have I petrified you into silence? What are you afraid of? It isn't a crime to look at people's rooms; I poke around to see how my friends fix up theirs; why shouldn't you do the same? I won't turn you in, if that's what you're worried about. I don't care what you do; you work for Rosa, not me. It would be different if you'd been going through Mother's closets; if the alarm had gone off there'd be hell to pay."

Laura's heart began to pound again, the blood hammering in her ears. / should have thought. . . I should have known . . . Whafs hi^pened to me that I don't do things right in this house? "Alarm?" she asked, making it sound as casual as she could.

"A siren that wakes the dead. It's because of Mother's jewelry, you know, all the incredible stuff my great-grandmother brought from Austria with the sterling. My father keeps telling Mother to keep it in the safe in Boston, but she says what good is jeweliy if you can't wear it. If sometiiing is really in^)ortant to you, you ought to do whatever you want with it, n^t? She loves all those things because they came from her grandmother to her mother and then to her and someday they'll be mine, so if she wants to wear them anywhere in the world, why shouldn't she? What do you do besides explore bedrooms?"

Laura flushed deeply. For the first time she was angry. Allison was playing with her like a cat trying to trip up a mouse. "I work," she said shortly and began to stand up.

"Not yet," AlUson snapped. Her voice made it clear that she knew exactly where the power lay between the two of them. "I said I wanted to talk. You v/otk. for Rosa. What do you like best? Do you like to cook?"

Her tone had become warm and curious, catching Laura off guard. "I guess so. I haven't done it very long."

27

Judith Michael

"You haven't? Mother said you'd done it forever. Lots of good references, she said."

"Oh, sure," Laura said swiftly. "I've worked in kitchens for years. I thought you meant cooking here, for your family."

"Well," Allison said when she stopped, "do you like cooking for my family?"

"Yes."

"What else do you like?"

"Oh, reading and listening to music. And I'm getting to like the beaches around here."

"And boys?"

"No."

"Oh, come on. How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Same as me. And no boys? Not even one little date? Everybody dates, for heaven's sake."

"Why do you care?" Laura burst out. "I'm just a cook—not even that, really; I'm just Rosa's assistant. What do you care whether I date or not?"

"I don't know," Allison said frankly. She contemplated Laura. **There's something about you—something about your eyes—like you're thinking of two things at once and I don't have all your attention. It's like a game, getting to know what you're thinking, getting you to . . . see me. Do you know what I mean?"

"No," said Laura flatly.

"I'll bet you do. You're not from around here, are you, like most of the summer help?"

"I've lived in New York."

"You stiU Uve in New York?"

"Yes."

"So what do you do m New York?"

Laura tossed her head. "I go out with five university guys. A couple of them are just friends but the other ones I see a lot, and on weekends I pick one or the other of them and we go to their apartment and screw. Sometimes I'm with two of them at once. Is there anything else you want to know?"

Allison tried to stare her down but Laura stared back. Prying bitch. Who says everybody dates? What do you know about it? "Do you have a good time?" Allison asked curiously.

L

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Her voice had changed again—not quite believing Laura, but not quite sure.

Confused, Laura was silent.

"I don't," Allison said. "I've been with three, no four, guys, one at a time, I'm not gutsy enough for two at once, and I don't much like it. I tell myself I should because everybody else does—or at least they say they do—but, I don't know, all the boys seem so damn young. If you have college guys, you're lucky. They're probably better. The ones I know can't talk. All they want to do is get in your pants, and as soon as they get a finger in they think they've got it made and they start to babble and slobber and it's all so stupid. I mean, I have a brain, and feelings, but every boy I know treats me like some kind of doll they can play with but don't have to pay much attention to. I think they ought to carry a cantaloupe with a hole in it and whenever they get the urge just stick their cock in and jack off, and then they'd never have to make conversation at all."

Laura broke into nervous giggles and Allison giggled, too, and then they were laughing as they had when they met. "They're probably scared to talk," Laura said. "They can feel like big men when they screw, but they sound pretty silly when you want them to talk about something serious, and I guess they know that."

'That's it; you've got it." Allison sighed. "You know that bit about the cantaloupe? I've been thinking that for a long time but I never said it to anybody before. I haven't got anybody to talk to, that's the problem. I mean, everybody from Boston and around here thinks I'm so fucking grown-up and cool, and they all know each other, and with people like that, if you show them you're worried or not happy about something, in an hour everybody knows it and . . . oh, what the hell. It's just that I feel alone a lot of the time. Do you know what I mean?"

"I know what it's like not to have anybody to talk to."

"Well, we're talking. Do you have a good time in bed with your college guys?"

"Sure." She's not a friend; I can't confide in her; I'll never see her again after a few more weeks. "I always have a good time. You just have to know what you're doing." She hesi-

Judith Michael

tated. She hadn^t the slightest notion of what it felt like to be in bed with a man. All she had had were quick couplings in the back seats of cars that had made her feel, for a few minutes, like she was special to the boy she was with, and then, afterward, more lonely than ever. "You have to care about him," she said, letting her fantasies fly. "And keep the lights on so you can see each other, 'cause it's more sexy that way and you feel like you're with somebody you know. And do it slow and easy so you have time to feel good. And make him know what you want. Don't let nobody take you"—she cleared her throat—^'*don't let anybody take you without your being ready. You just tdl them: God damn it, I'm a real person! Listen to what I want! That's all there is to it. I've got to get back; Rosa said three o'clock sharp—^"

"Sit down; it's only quarter to." Allison was frowning again. "I tell myself that, that I shouldn't do anything I don't want to, but they're all over me and it's just easier to go along and get it over and then get out of there. I don't want to be raped, after all . . ."