Wicked Forest (19 page)

You'll see."

"I see the darkness coming closer," he said.

"That's what I see."

"Aren't you tired? It's getting late."

"I'm all right." He turned back to me. "Don't worry." he said in a harder, firmer voice. "I won't hurt myself anymore. I've got to remain strong,"

"Good."

"To protect you," he added. He turned away again, "I've got to remain strong."

He was silent again, again like stone. I debated staying out there with him, then decided it would be better to leave him be and hope that with the morning and the light, the darkness in his mind would go away.

Mother was asleep. I went to bed. but I couldn't help lying there and listening for Linden. Finally, nearly a half hour later. I heard him come in and walk softly through the hallway, pausing at my doorway for a moment before going into his own room.

He was, surprisingly, far more cheerful in the morning. His talk was about the main house and our moving back into it. There was such a nice, positive energy about us. As if Thatcher had his ear to our wall, he surprised me with a call from his car on his way down to Miami,

'I couldn't wait to tell you,'" he began. "I just got off the phone with my father. They know everything, of course, and as I told you, they are going to accept it in their inimitable way, They have decided to move out of Joya del Mar sooner than anticipated.

In fact, my usually laid-back father surprised me. He has been plotting and planning all this time, and they have made an offer and agreed to purchase a home that's turnkey ready."

"Really?"

"Yes, I have a feeling my sister had something to do with it. too, Anyway, I thought you and Grace and Linden would be pleased to know. They are moving within the month and paying you whatever they still owe, That gives you more time to get organized and think about our wedding," he said,

"That's wonderful. Thatcher."

"I'll call you as soon as I'm done here. Willow,"

When my mother and Linden heard the news, Linden was the happiest I had seen him since my return. He spoke eagerly now about setting up his studio. I, too, felt much better about all I was planning to accomplish in the next six months. My wedding, the moving, starting a new school, all of that boosted my mother's spirits as well. She had a great deal with which to occupy herself.

However, thinking about an event such as a wedding in Palm Beach also made her nervous,

"We'll take it a step at a time," I told her. "Just think of all we'll be able to do together."

That thought put the smiles back on her face, the lightness in her step, and the hope in her eyes.

Was it too much to believe that we would

finally be a real family?

Later that afternoon. Jennings. the Eatons'

butler, came to our front door and told me Mrs. Eaton would very much like to speak with me this afternoon, Would I be available for tea at about four? I was so tempted to say no. I was too busy. Mother gave me a look when she saw my hesitation, which was more or less a look that asked me to be nice. so I agreed to be there.

"We've all got to make an effort if this is going to work." she wisely advised. "The past is the past.

We should worry only about our futures,"

I felt ashamed that she had to be the one to tell me that, especially after all she had been through.

So, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

I went up to the main house and rang the bell.

Jennings greeted me with what I thought was a look of sympathy and led me to the sunroom, where Bunny was on the telephone. She waved for me to enter and take the seat across from her while she continued her conversation.

"Don't tell me you need more time. Angelo.

This is Mrs. Eaton," she screeched into the phone. "I know what you need and what you don't need. and I expect as wonderful a -menu as you did for the Turners. No, amend that. I expect something better.

Bring me a list of new dishes not ever served at a Palm Beach affair.... Of course we are talking about seven to eight hundred. How could it be any less?

Really. Angelo, I'm worried about you," she said, and followed it with her little hollow laugh. "I expect to see you before the end of the week," she ended with the sharpness of an army general. "Thank you.

Arrivederci, "

She hung up and flashed a smile at me, then signaled the maid who was standing so still she looked like a store mannequin. The maid moved quickly to pour the tea from the silver pot and uncovered the petit fours.

"Thank you. Mary." Bunny said, which really translated to. "Leave us."

The moment she did so. Bunny's smile faded.

"Well. I must congratulate you, my dear. You are far more clever than I ever imagined."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing, except for you to have so captivated my son after all that has happened is rather astonishing. I mean that as a real compliment.

Actually, it encourages me to know that you are that clever. I would have hated for Thatcher to end up with one of those many airheads he dated."

I smiled to myself at her backhanded

compliment. This was her way of turning an about-

face. I reached for my teacup.

It wasn't so much my being clever. Bunny.

What brought Thatcher and me to this point is love, a deep-seated and all-encompassing affection for each other." I defined for her.

"Love," she moaned as if it were a mythical idea. "Just an excuse for two people using each other."

"I'm sorry you believe that, that you are so cynical."

"I'm just wiser than you, but let's not debate some soap opera. The fact is, we're here together, thanks to Thatcher. and I have decided we shall start anew, as if nothing has ever passed between us. Is that all right with you?" she asked. "It's so much easier than reviewing this and that and apologizing and explaining, don't you think? Who needs that useless aggravation, and especially who needs it at a time like this? Thatcher just simply insists on this quite unrealistic marriage date and consequently, as men are wont to do, has left the impossible task in our hands."

"If it's impossible, how can we do it?" I countered, still smiling. She was truly a character.

How could I remain angry at her?

"That's just it. We can do the impossible and we will. I'll do everything in my power to help, of course.

I know the burdens under which you live at the moment. and I realize how much time you have and how many other responsibilities you have, whereas that's all I do have... time." she said, and sipped her tea. "Please have one of these. They are fresh and sumptuous."

"No, thank you," I said.

"Oh, eat one," she cried. "I can't stand eating something fattening in front of another woman who has such self-control. You ruin it for me."

Reluctantly. I plucked one of the cakes from the plate.. I nibbled on it and sipped some tea. She looked contented, as if she were the devil in the Garden of Eden and had gotten me to eat the forbidden fruit.

"What exactly is it you think you will do.

Bunny?"

"Thank you for not calling me Mother right off the bat. How I hate those young women who just can't wait to label their mothers-in-law. It makes them sound like parents to everyone around them. I refuse to let Whitney's husband Hans call me Mother or Mom or any such ridiculous thing. He's not all that much younger than I am, for that matter, and it would look absolutely ridiculous for him to refer to me as anything other than Bunny.

"So call me Bunny forever." she said, and bit more aggressively into another petit four.

"Okay, Bunny forever, what is it you are planning to do?"

"Well, as you heard when you walked in. I just spoke with the caterer. We have to grt onto these things ASAP. We have a ready-made list of guests to invite. I keep it updated. Nowadays, you can actually have the envelopes preaddressed and waiting. I've always anticipated Thatcher's wedding, of course, and have a whole file drawer filled with ideas, not to mention the ideas I've accumulated aver the years from attending other weddings here.

"As you know." she continued, barely taking a breath. "we're leaving the property quite soon, so it would be wise to plan out the location of everything immediately. You've attended a party here already, so you know how wonderful it can be if it is set up correctly.

"I thought you should be married on the lower patio," she rattled on, as if she had indeed been rehearsing it for years and years, "We'll construct an altar of flowers. There'll be flowers everywhere, of course, but something special for the altar. I'd prefer a mix of red and white roses. What do you think of that?"

"Perhaps we should get married in a church and come here for the reception," I suggested,

"Oh, what for?" she cried, grimacing like someone who had just bitten a rotten walnut, "There isn't a church that can hold all the people I want to have attend. Besides, that's such a droll setting for a wedding."

"A church?"

"Of course it is. They hold funerals in it, too, and everyone is so serious in a church. Make the minister come to us. Oh, dear." she said suddenly. I thought she truly had eaten something bad. She held the petit four at the edge of her lips.

"What?"

"It just occurred to me that I don't know your religious affiliation. Do you follow your father's faith?

Are you Catholic? I know you can't be Jewish. Can you?"

"My father wasn't very religious, but my adoptive mother was Episcopalian, as I believe my mother's family is,"

"Yes," she said with relief. "Well, that avoids anything vulgar.

Now, as to the guest list," she pressed on, running away with my life and my future, "my advice to you is to have it made up as quickly as you can With Thatcher's business acquaintances and our own friends and acquaintances, we simply cannot invite fewer than five to six hundred people. I'm assuming you will have half that many."

"Nowhere near it," I said.

"Oh? Well, whatever. Well, then. I've made up a list of things to do and I've underlined in red those things I can arrange," she said, handing me a sheet of her personal stationery,

"This is all very interesting," I said, glancing at it. Practically everything on the sheet had been underlined in red. "Thank you. I'll take it back with me and discuss it with my mother."

"What?"

"To see how this corresponds with her own ideas. of course." I replied.

-"But... your mother? Is she capable of such decisions? She's been out of society so long. She wouldn't know where to begin."

"Oh. Bunny, a woman always knows where to begin when it comes to the wedding of her daughter, don't you think? Especially a wedding like this. We'll get back to you," I added, and rose.

She sat there, looking stunned.

"Actually, lilacs," I said.

"What?"

"An altar made of lilacs. I'll see what Mother thinks. Those little cakes are sumptuous."

She looked like she couldn't swallow. I flashed a smile at her and left her sitting there with a petit four pinched between her right thumb and forefinger,
De Beers
, I heard my conscience declare as soon as I stepped out of the rear of the house and started down to the beach house.
You little brat. You
enjoyed that too much.

But I -was nice about it, wasn’t I? I can do this.

I can handle them all, I thought confidently.

Do you think you're being too arrogant?
Daddy would ask.

No.
I told him in my mind.
Just confident.... It's
the right answer. isn't it. Daddy?

We’ll see.

We'll know sooner than later.

Won't we?

8

Lunch with Whitney

.

My life began to move as if God had pressed a button and shifted it into fast forward. Despite my reaction to Bunny's heavy hand in my and Thatcher's wedding plans. Mother and I decided it was not so bad to permit her to make most of the arrangements. For one thing. Bunny wasn't wrong about the fact that Mother was out of touch with Palm Beach society and the people to contact; for another, with all I had to do to prepare for school and we had to do to prepare to move into the main house, it was wise to place the heavier burdens on the Eatons, people who had nothing to do with their lives but frolic.

"Besides," Mother pointed out, "we have to give the devil her due. She will know more about arranging a formal wedding than I will."

And so, despite my instinctive belief that Thatcher and I should simply go off somewhere and get married. I agreed with Mother and we sent word through Jennings that we would like to discuss it all with Bunny. Just like two warring parties negotiating a peace treaty, we met on neutral ground about halfway between the beach house and the main house, the pool patio. Bunny had already gone ahead and hired herself a temporary secretary-assistant, which should have given Mother and me fair warning as to just how elaborate and involved this was all going to be,

"This is Patricia Prescott, my temporary personal assistant." Bunny began. "She'll take notes and follow through on our decisions."

Patricia looked like she was in her early to mid-thirties, dark-haired with a pale complexion. She smiled in flashes, making it seem like any expression of joy or relaxation was forbidden. She mouthed.

"Hello," and quickly took a seat, opening a briefcase and extracting a long legal pad.

"I am happy you have decided to move as quickly as possible on all this. Grace," Bunny told my mother, and then she turned to me to aim a missile, "I hope we're not rushing about madly because you're pregnant. Thatcher wouldn't tell me if that was the case. He's too much of a gentleman."

"What makes you think I'm not too much of a lady to even treat that question with any dignity?" I fired back.

Her assistant looked like she wished she could shrink under the table.

"I just wanted to get that aired," Bunny said, as if she were talking about hanging out smelly clothing,

"There is nothing so embarrassing as a bride in a white wedding gown with her stomach protruding."