Secrets (20 page)

Cassie leaned back in her chair and listened to her mother's ideas. On the plane she'd read an article about the growing interest in old-fashioned varieties of fruits and vegetables. Smiling, she'd thought of Thomas's purple potatoes, and how he'd said that there were lots of varieties of berries and tree fruits that you could buy in England but couldn't get in the United States. “Their country is smaller so the fruits can be shipped without a lot of expense. In the United States you have to have hard skins on the fruits so they can travel in a truck across thousands of miles.”

The memory of Thomas's words filled her with pain. Her memories of days with Thomas and Elsbeth were vivid and the agony of not seeing them filled her. If she ever did open a business, it wouldn't be with Thomas.

But when she was having lunch with her mother, Thomas's potatoes and the article all came together, and she began to talk about her thoughts. For the first time in their lives, she and her mother talked on an equal level. Margaret didn't bludgeon her daughter because she hadn't chosen the same path she had. But instead, she talked of Cassie's new business with enthusiasm.

It was later that night, in Margaret's pristine apartment, that Cassie asked her what was wrong. There was something in her mother's eyes that Cassie had never seen before. “They want me to retire,” was all Margaret would say, but in that sentence, she said it all. All Margaret had in her life was her work. She had no hobbies, and her only family was Cassie, a daughter who she rarely saw. Without work, Margaret had nothing.

For the first time, Cassie saw life from her mother's viewpoint. Smiling, she told her mother that, yes, she'd like her to see what she could find out about opening a mail-order business.

From New York, Cassie flew to Fort Lauderdale. It's where Althea recommended she go, and since Cassie had no other ideas, she did as she was told. As she'd said to her mother, she needed time to heal. It was as though her whole life had been geared toward one thing—a life with Jefferson Ames—and in one horrible night, everything had ended, and Cassie didn't know where she was going.

Cassie figured that Althea had seen enough life that she knew what she was doing, certainly that she knew what a woman needed when her heart was broken, so she followed her instructions to the letter. The first thing that Althea said Cassie needed was exercise. “You can't use your mind if your body is in bad shape,” Althea said. “I haven't stayed thin by the grace of God. I've done it through hard, even brutal, work. Your modern movie stars have nothing on us. Did you ever notice Barbara Stanwyck's arms?”

“I can't say that I did.”

“Rent a movie,” Althea said. “We knew about training. Keep your body strong and your mind will follow.”

Althea hadn't left anything to chance. By the time Cassie got to Fort Lauderdale and rented a small apartment with a view of the Intracoastal Waterway and had logged online, an e-mail was waiting for her with the information that Althea had signed Cassie up for six weeks with a personal trainer.

Over the following weeks, there were e-mails with the name of the best stylist at the local Saks, the name of the best organic grocery store, and even a list of old, classic movies that Cassie needed to see. “For your education,” Althea wrote.

By the end of four months, Cassie had changed so much that she hardly recognized herself. Her curvy body had been stretched, pummeled, and had resisted so much weight that it was lean and firm. Her hourglass figure was still there, but not so exaggerated.

And as Althea had said, with a better body, she had a better mind. Of course it hadn't hurt that Althea had sent four handsome young actors to meet Cassie. At first, she'd been angry. How dare Althea do such a thing! Was she saying that Cassie was too backward to get her own dates?

Grudgingly, Cassie had gone on the dates, but, to her surprise, she'd had a good time. Neither she nor the actors wanted anything serious to happen between them, so they'd been free to have fun. All four of them were planning to become great stars someday, but in the meantime they were working in bars and surfing during the day. They auditioned at local theaters, and Cassie helped them memorize their lines. She enjoyed playing the part of the girl and acting with them. They complimented her extravagantly, but she was sure they were just being polite.

By the end of five months, she was close to having a life. She went out; she had things to do. Her mother and she had reached, if not a friendship, at least a relationship. Margaret sent her a six-inch-thick envelope of research about opening an organic nursery. And she'd found one for sale near Seattle. A couple had started it in the 1970s and were now wanting to sell it. Margaret said that if Cassie was interested, she'd buy it and they could run it together.

Cassie had been torn between the positive aspect of going into business with her mother—and the horror of going into business with her mother. She put the letter and information aside. She needed time to think about the whole idea.

It was at night, when she was alone in her apartment, that she felt bad. She still missed Elsbeth and Thomas. And, yes, she missed Jeff too, but that feeling was easily stamped down when she thought of their last night together. Sometimes she remembered their erotic dance and thought how he'd known he was dancing with a girl who'd been in love with him since she was a child. Over the months since that dance, she'd gone over every minute of the time she'd lived in his house. The nights when she slipped downstairs just to be with him. The way she'd cooked just for him. The way—

She always made herself stop thinking about that year. She'd now been away from all of them half as long as she'd been with them. Her mother was pushing about the Seattle nursery. She'd talked to the owners, and they'd agreed to let Cassie work for them for a year in a managerial position so she could learn about the business.

“It will take me a year to wrap up here,” Margaret had written, “so that will be about right. I'll move to Seattle and buy us a house and we can start expanding the business right away.”

Every time Cassie read the letter, her stomach started hurting. Cassie's idea of a nursery was a few acres near Williamsburg. It would be open to the public only two times a year, and the rest of the time all sales would be done over the Internet. Done that way, she'd be able to work when she wanted to, whether it was all night or for days in a row. And she'd be able to take off when she wanted to. In case one of her children was ill, she thought.

Margaret's letter conjured up loading semis with a thousand fruit trees and selling only to wholesalers. She imagined hundreds of employees, and a selling arena that covered at least twenty acres. She saw her mother calling her fifty times a day with some crises that had to be taken care of
now
!

Cassie thought of calling Althea and talking to her about this problem, but Cassie was tired of asking other people to solve her problems. If she was ever going to grow up fully, she was going to have to learn to deal with her mother—and to stand up for herself.

So, now, as Cassie stepped off the treadmill, she checked her cell phone and saw that she had seven calls from Althea, but no messages had been left. Cassie felt a tightening in her heart. Had something bad happened? To Thomas? Elsbeth? Or was someone calling from Althea's phone with bad news?

She went outside the gym and pushed the buttons to dial Althea's number. When the older woman answered, Cassie let out a sigh of relief. “Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” Althea said briskly. “Better than fine. Remember that I said I wanted you to do some acting for me? I just arranged it all.”

Cassie smiled into the phone. Every time she talked to Althea, the aliveness in her voice made her feel good. At Christmas, Althea's daughter, husband, three grandchildren, and twelve great-grandchildren had come to visit her for two days.

Althea had told Cassie she'd loved every minute of it. Althea called in favors from young actors. “They'd do anything for a free meal,” she'd said. “And to meet you,” Cassie said. They'd waited tables, kept kids from jumping into the river, and poured endless drinks for the adults. On Christmas morning, screaming, hysterical children had torn into the many gifts that Althea had ordered over the Internet.

“And what about your daughter?” Cassie asked.

There was a pause on the line, then Althea said, “She and her husband are coming for a week this summer. I do hope I can get her to talk to my plastic surgeon. She looks older than I do.”

Cassie had burst out laughing.

So now Cassie asked what the greatly anticipated acting job was.

“I want you to go on a mystery weekend at the house of an old friend of mine.”

“Of course,” Cassie said. “It sounds like fun.”

“His name is Charles Faulkener, and he's massively wealthy. He likes to tell people that his wealth is part inherited and part self-made. He has a huge estate that was built—he says—by his grandfather. He also says that his ancestor was George Washington's best friend. The truth is that he bought the place back in '38 when it was derelict and over the years he's plowed masses of money into it. He made up the story about having inherited money, and he bought the portraits in antiques shops.”

“And you want me to spend a weekend at this man's house and solve a mystery?”

“Yes,” Althea said.

“Is he an actor?”

“Honey, I go onstage, then get off. Charles never gets off the stage. His whole life is lived as a drama. You'd do well to remember that.”

By now Cassie knew Althea well enough to know that, with her, nothing was simple. “So what's the real reason you want me to do this?”

Althea chuckled. “I want you to get something that I hid in his house years ago.”

“And you think it's still there?”

“If the house hasn't burned down, which it hasn't, then it's there. The problem is that it's been so long that I'm not sure which room it's in. One of the bedrooms, that's all I remember. I hid it under a loose floorboard under a window.”

“You hid what?” Cassie asked.

“A diamond necklace that once belonged to the czarina of Russia.”

“Good heavens!” Cassie said. “Do these jewels have anything to do with the ones that were stolen by the robber twenty years ago?”

Althea hesitated. “Yes. The necklace was all I had left from what was stolen from me, and after the robbery I didn't trust anyone. I was staying at Charles's house and I didn't trust any safe so I hid it under a floorboard.”

Cassie was frowning. “Why didn't you get it when you left?”

“Because Charles and I were lovers and that weekend he found out I had spent the afternoon in bed with another man, so he threw me out. Under the circumstances, I couldn't very well ask Charles that I be allowed to go back upstairs to get the necklace the other man had given me, now could I?”

“No, of course you couldn't,” Cassie said, her eyes wide. “So now you want me to go there, find the bedroom, locate the loose floorboard, and dig out the necklace?”

“Exactly,” Althea said. “Charles is an old man now, but he still hates me, so I can't go, nor can anyone who is known to have any connection to me. It was only through someone who knows someone else that I was able to get this invitation for you. It's one of those mystery weekends where someone pretends to be murdered, then the guests have to figure out who killed him. I was told that the prize for winning is a rather nice sapphire ring.”

“All right,” Cassie said slowly. “When do I go and where?”

“I'll write it all out for you and e-mail it. You'll need some clothes, but I've taken care of that. Just keep your calendar clear for this coming weekend,” Althea said, then hung up.

Cassie looked at the phone in disbelief and was tempted to call her back. But, knowing Althea, she knew she wouldn't answer. She'd told Cassie all that she meant to. This weekend, Cassie thought. Today was Monday. That didn't give her a lot of time.

 

Althea put down the phone and smiled at Thomas. They were in her sitting room, a pot of tea before them, surrounded by plates covered with tiny sandwiches, scones, and little cakes frosted with pastel icing, a tiny rose on each one.

“Well?” he asked. “Will she do it?”

“Yes, but then I've taken months to set this up. I had to be careful what I said, though, as she has a habit of seeing what she shouldn't.”

Thomas sighed. “Oh, how I miss her and long to have her back! Our house, which was once a haven, a refuge for the weary, is now like a ship on a storm-tossed sea.”

“Mmmm,” Althea said, “I do so love when you talk poetry.”

“More truth than poetry. If Jeff weren't my son, I'd never speak to him again.”

“He's still angry?”

“I had no idea he was capable of such anger—and I can't figure out what is the cause of his anger. Is he angry at himself? I can't see that it could be Cassie. After Lillian died—”

“Was murdered,” Althea corrected.

“Yes, after Lillian was murdered, Jeff had grief to numb his anger. And he had the work of finding who killed her.”

“Which he did,” Althea added.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “He found them and…”

“We don't have to speak of that,” Althea said. “But they won't be hurting anyone ever again. And your son was so fed up with his job that he would have gone into the civilian world if they hadn't offered him a teaching position.”

“Yes,” Thomas said, taking a sip of his tea. “Cassie brought him back to life. It was her love for all of us and her constant cheerfulness that brought Jeff back to this world.”

Althea made an unladylike grunt of a noise. “I can't understand why that idiot son of yours didn't just tell her he loved her.”