Wicked Forest (35 page)

Later, when they returned. Thatcher told me Linden had stood in a corner most of the time,

"looking like he just dared anyone to say hello.

"I introduced him to some attractive young women, but he wouldn't give them the time of day.

Maybe he needs hormone shots, the youngest man on

'in-tn. something like that," he joked.

"It's not funny. Thatcher. I'm worried about it now. and I don't want Mother to worry."

"Okay, okay. I'll dig up some female companionship for him." "I'm not asking you to do that."

"I know, but what kind of brother-in-law would I be if I didn't make sure he got his rocks off once in a while?"

"Thatcher!"

He laughed and went off. However. I had to wonder if he wasn't right. Maybe a female relationship, no matter how short and sweet, was what Linden really needed. On the other hand_. I thought, why was it men thought of sex the same way they thought of an aspirin?

The time I was spending with Linden, attending social events, shopping, eating dinner, or simply taking long walks on the beach, even with Mother along, was, to my surprise, becoming the subject of some nasty gossip. The second surprise was how it was all being spread. I wouldn't have known if I wasn't invited to another luncheon of the Club d'Amour. I should have realized they had good reason to beg for my attendance.

We didn't meet at Club Florette again. This time we all gathered at a popular Palm Beach restaurant and sat in the rear, as far away from everyone else as we could. That was Manons arrangement, I was still very interested in them from a purely scientific point of view. I had told Professor Fuentes about them and he agreed that they were intriguing.

The luncheon began with chat about fashions, the latest Palm Beach charity event, people they had all just seen, and some of the latest party jokes that were being circulated. Finally, Manon turned to me and said. "There is something we've all heard and we thought you should know."

"Oh?"

My heart began to tick like a Geiger counter over radioactive material. Everyone's eyes were on me, waiting to see my reaction to whatever Manon was about to reveal.

"We all have good reason to say that your sister-in-law is making innuendos about you and your half brother. She's been complaining about all the time you spend with Linden, and she's left the impression that it isn't all brotherly and sisterly."

"What? Whitney is telling people things like that?"

"Absolutely and without a doubt," Liana said.

"Our sources are the most reliable in Palm Beach."

Sharon and Marjorie nodded in agreement.

"What exactly is she saying?"

She told someone we know well that your

brother moved his bedroom closer to yours. Is that true?"

"Yes, but—" "She said he had painted a picture to give you and Thatcher for a wedding present, but it's a picture of you only and it's done in a very sexy way. She said he put it over your bed himself, and one of the maids told her he goes there often to look at it.

She said he looks at it as if he were looking at the Virgin Mary. She could see no reason for all this, other than something unnatural. perverted."

"Is there something weird going on between you and Linden?" Marjorie dared to ask. Everyone else held her breath.

"That's a disgusting question, an insulting question," I snapped back at her.

"I had to ask." she said defensively. "If we're going to stand by you, we should know the truth. Just like a good defense attorney."

"I'm not asking you to do anything." I said even more sharply. "There is nothing like that going on. I have no reason to need any defense."

"You know what they say about people who protest too much." Sharon quipped.

"Well, it's degrading to hear such things, disgusting, filthy and—"

"We agree," Manon said quickly. She looked around to be sure no one was in earshot before adding,

"And we want to help you."

I settled back and stared down at the table.

"Why would she do such a dirty thing?" I muttered.

"Maybe she's the one who has something unnatural for her brother," Marjorie suggested. "The way she looks at Thatcher when they are together. I mean."

"Sounds like a plan." Manon said. nodding,

"What? What are you all saving? There's nothing to that filthy smear, either."

"Doesn't matter," Manon said. "You've got to fight fire with fire. Don't worry, we'll handle it."

"No. I don't want to get into some backstabbing gossip feud with my sister-in-law. I'll confront her directly and make sure that if it's true, it stops."

'Don't underestimate Whitney." Marjorie warned. "You're just an amateur when it comes to the Palm Beach Game and she's an expert. She'll have you for breakfast."

"I'll be fine," I said.

"We're just trying to help you," 1,4anon repeated. "Thank you," I said, but I could see they weren't motivated by a sense of right and wrong so much as they, too, enjoyed playing what they called the Palm Beach Game.

"Tell us about your honeymoon," Sharon said.

For a moment I felt like a patient in a therapist's office. I'd shut one pathway to my inner self, so they moved on to travel another.

"Yes, every detail you can remember," Liana added, "Or want to reveal," Sharon said.

"Was it everything you expected?" Manon asked.

I laughed loudly in their faces, and they all seemed to have their spinal cords snapped sharply, making them sit up.

"What's so funny?"

"You all sound like you feed off of other women's love lives," I said. "Vicarious sex."

Never had I seen smiles evaporate faster.

"Obviously, our psychology student is unable to leave Mr. Freud at home when she goes out with real people," Marjorie said through clenched teeth.

"If things aren't what you hoped they would be, they won't get any better if you take it out on us,"

Manon added. "You. A student of psychotherapy, should know that better than us."

"I'm not taking anything out on anyone, and who said things aren't what I expected?"

"Protesting too much!" Sharon sang.

"You're all being quite ridiculous," I said. "I've got to go."

I started to dig into my purse for money to pay for my lunch.

"Don't worry about money. Willow. We'll take care of the bill. I wish you wouldn't go off in a huff."

Manon said.

"I'm tired and I have some studying to do.

Thanks for all the dirty revelations."

Marjorie reached up to grasp my arm. It took me by surprise.

"Someday, maybe someday soon." she said,

"you will be sincere when you thank us like that."

I pulled my arm free. Tears were burning under my lids, but I fought hard to keep them there.

"I hope I have more important things with which to concern myself." I said. "Thanks for lunch.

That's sincere." I added and stormed away.

For a while I just drove, not paying much attention to where I was going. I made some wrong turns and went in circles. The tears streamed down my face freely now. Why would Whitney do such a thing? Why would family members try to tear their own family apart like this? What did she hope to accomplish?

How could I go home and face Mother and

Linden, knowing what people were saying about us, about me, and all because of Whitney?

Anger quickly replaced emotional pain. In a snap. I made a decision. I turned the vehicle sharply and headed for Whitney's mansion.

It took so long for me to gain entry through those fortress gates. I thought I would be turned away.

Finally they were opened and I drove up to the mansion. A maid greeted me at the door. She had a dust mop in her hand and looked annoyed that anyone would dare an unannounced visit and interrupt her important work.

"Mrs. Shugar is on the terrace." she said. She nodded down the long entryway. "You can go out the French doors on your right."

"Thank you," I said. and marched over the tiles, my heels clicking like tap shoes, the noise echoing up the walls and bouncing down from the high ceiling.

Under a large umbrella. Whitney was lounging in a pair of shorts and a white halter. The book she had been reading was beside her on a table, next to a tall glass of what looked like a piña colada. It even had the small umbrella sticking up. In my mind a thought flashed: She thinks of our home as a hotel and herself as a perennial guest.

As I approached, she opened her left eye, then closed it and, with a sigh of annoyance, sat up, fixing the chaise behind her.

"What brings you here. Willow?" she asked. "I thought you were so busy with your college and your brother."'

"That's what brings me here. Whitney."

She raised her eyebrows and reached for her drink. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, I'm not staying that long."

"Oh. Well, you can sit so I don't have to keep looking up at you, can't you?"

I sat on an upright chair by one of the tables.

"So? Where is the fire?" she asked with a crooked smile. "Better you should ask who is the arsonist," I retorted. She put down her glass.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded,

"It has been brought to my attention, painfully brought to my attention, that you have been saying nasty things about Linden and me.‖

"Oh?" she asked, without attempting to deny anything. "Have you?"

"I haven't said anything that everyone else around here doesn't think or believe:," she replied with her haughty tone.

Whitney saw herself so high up on a pedestal of her own making that she had no fear of being challenged, and had too much arrogance to ever feel shame or defeat. I thought.

"What kind of stupid, filthy logic is that.

Whitney? I'm Thatcher's wife, This is your family now, too. You should be protecting us, not helping spread disgusting gossip.‖

"I don't spread gossip," she snapped. She looked away for a moment, then turned back. her face not so much red as brassy, her eyes blazing. There were forces in her I couldn't even begin to fathom. I thought. "I am always looking out for my family.'"

"Looking out for your family? First you tried to ruin our relationship by concocting that stupid story about Kirby Scott, and now that we've married, you're doing something even worse."

"You can't blame me for trying to open Thatcher's eyes. You came into our lives like some northwester, blowing even-thing onshore. Who but Thatcher would marry someone with all the baggage you carry?"

"You still think you're so superior that you know what's best for everyone?"

She smiled coldly, her eyes so gray she looked like someone without a soul,

"I see you're not denying the stories."

"Of course I'm not denying them. I don't intend to give them the dimity of even being considered seriously. Who but someone sicker than my brother would tell people such things?"

She winced, but didn't change expression. "I have pictures," she said,

"Pictures? What pictures?" I asked. All the air seemed to have come from my lungs.

She smiled again and lay back on the chaise,

"You should have realized that the people who worked for the Eatons all these years developed some sense of loyalty to us. Maybe not Jennings so much, but the maids you kept— and don't you dare go home and fire anyone!" she warned, her eyes wide with fury,

The blood had drained from my face.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, hoping she was talking about something else.

She smiled again.

"The disgusting photographs you permitted your sick brother to take of you." She thrust her body toward me. "You posed nude for him, too, didn't you?"

"No. I did not. I can't believe you had one of the maids do such a thing. Spying on us. It's so despicable. I can't even find the words to do it justice."

"I'm only protecting my family," she said dryly, and sipped her drink again, "Now that you have had the nerve to bring this to a head. I must insist you have your brother committed."

"What?"

"I want him out of that house," she ordered.

"It's the best thing for Thatcher. This way he won't be harmed by any perversions that could go on there. His reputation is everlastingly bound to my parents' and my own reputations. No one lives in a vacuum here.

What you do now reflects on me and my parents. too.'

"What about what you do?"

"I doubt." she said with that crooked smile again, "that you will hear one substantiated piece of filth as dirty about me as people are spreading- about you.

"You come from a family of disturbed people.

What frightens me the most, if you want to know, is what sort of children you might have. I hope Thatcher gives that some thought and goes to a reputable adoption agency when the time comes to have children, if it comes. If your marriage survives."

She sat back. confident,

"I told you once before how I have had to come to Thatcher's aid to save him from one romantic disaster after another."

I shook my head, the words of anger choking in my throat.

The faces of the women of the Club d'Amour flashed before me. How right they were when they warned me about Whitney and the Palm Beach Game.

But I refused to be as helpless as everyone thought, especially as Whitney thought.

"Why would you do that?" I said. filling my voice with new strength and assurance.

"What?"

"Interfere in your brother's love life so often."

"I told you To protect him. To protect my family."

"Really? Could it be that you are the one with a sick fascination for a brother? That you are the one who dotes unnaturally on him? Despite what you think of yourself and your precious Palm Beach reputation. I have just come from lunch with a group of women who think that of you,"

"You're lying."

"I can see to it that you hear it from some of them, if you like. You're frustrated in your own marriage. Your husband has been heard saving things about your cold bed. You're driving me out because you want Thatcher for yourself."

"You sick. evil—" "Me?"

I stood up.

"Hardly me. I don't hire the maid in your house to listen in on conversations and steal things to give to me. But. I venture to say, some of the servants here don't feel all that devotion to you that you think they do, and they could be coaxed to talk about how you show excessive affection for Thatcher," I said in a threatening tone.