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“For God’s sake, let’s get out of here.” He took her arm and tugged her gently, pulling her across the field toward the main building. “It’s a good thing I came by this morning to check on the progress and saw your car, or you would have been in trouble. I can’t think of why you came. I hate this place, myself.”
“Anthony,” Fiona managed as they crossed the field. “I think I saw—”
But he tugged her, nearly unbalancing her, and suddenly she was so close her shoulder touched his. “Shh,” he said, his voice lowered. “Please don’t say it. I think she listens.”
The words were so unexpected it took a moment for her to process them. By the time she did, he had let her go and was walking normally again without glancing in her direction, as if he’d never said a thing.
Numbly she followed his gaze to the dead, empty windows of Idlewild. It was watching them, watching her, laughing with its broken teeth. For a second her fear turned to defiance at the sight. I see you, she said to it. I hate you.
But Idlewild still grinned. I hate you, too.
When they reached the muddy drive, Anthony said, “I’ll have security open the gates so you can leave. If you want to see the grounds again, Fiona, please call me so you don’t end up in the back of a police car.”
He motioned to a uniformed man who was getting out of a car marked with the logo of a private security company. The man nodded and pressed a button inside his car, and the gates began to swing open. Waiting for her to leave.
She wanted to run down the rutted drive and through the gates. She wanted out. She wanted to be gone from here forever.
Instead she turned to Anthony and said, in a voice both quiet and clear, “Who is she?”
He shook his head. “That’s my mother’s specialty, I’m afraid. You’ll have to ask her.”
“Except I don’t have an interview with her,” Fiona returned, frustrated.
“You should have returned my calls,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Mother has changed her mind. She’s agreed to talk to you.” He glanced at his watch. “She’ll be getting up now, having her morning tea. I’ll call ahead and tell her you’re coming, shall I?”
It didn’t matter that she was scared, cold, shabbily dressed, and worried about her own mental state. She was finally getting the chance to talk to Margaret Eden. “Yes, thank you,” she said as politely as she could. “I’m on my way.”
He gave her the address. “Let’s not tell her about this incident,” he finished, waving vaguely behind them, “or we’ll both be in trouble.”
“Will she be angry?”
To her surprise, that made Anthony laugh, a sound that was brief and polite, but still genuinely amused. “If you ever find that you can predict Mother, then you know her better than I do. And I’ve known her all my life.”
That should have made her uneasy. Yet it didn’t.
Fiona turned and walked down the muddy drive, preparing to take on Margaret Eden.
Chapter 14
CeCe
Barrons, Vermont
October 1950
The last Sunday of every month was Family Visit Day at Idlewild, when families could come see the girls. The visits took place in the dining hall, with each girl getting a table to sit with her visitor. There were over a hundred girls in the school, but barely six or seven families showed up each Family Visit Day. The rest either didn’t know about it or didn’t care.
CeCe had put on a clean uniform and carefully brushed her hair. It was too much to expect that Mother would come; she lived in Boston, where she worked as a housekeeper, and to come back here on her Sunday off was impossible. Her father would not come, of course—she hadn’t seen him since he’d dropped her off here. But she’d had a letter from someone else instead.
She watched, scanning each face as visitors came into the room. A set of parents. A mother with two children. It was nearly Halloween, and the two children had brought candy for their sister at school, which they were obviously reluctant to part with. Finally, a young man appeared, neatly groomed and wearing a navy blue seersucker suit. He was directed to her table. CeCe stood up and smiled.
He smiled back as he approached her. He had dark brown hair slicked back with pomade, and the white shirt beneath his suit jacket was starched and clean, his tie straight. He had gray eyes beneath bold, level brows and a thin face with high cheekbones. He was handsome, CeCe thought, except that his front teeth were just a little crooked. But otherwise he was decent-looking, classy. He looked to be about twenty.
“Hi,” he said when he got close enough to speak. “Cecilia?”
“That’s me,” she said, jittery with nervousness. “Call me CeCe.”
He shook her hand. If he noticed how clammy hers was, he didn’t let on. “I’m Joseph.”
“It’s so nice,” she said, then realized that she hadn’t finished her sentence. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” He gestured for her to sit, and he sat across from her and smiled again. “So, do you think we have a resemblance?”
They had none, not the slightest, but CeCe smiled at him and said, “I don’t know. I guess.”
“Well, since we have the same father, there must be some resemblance somewhere,” he said. He looked her up and down, and she was painfully aware of the soft curves bulging beneath her uniform, the dark thick hair that was nothing like his. She’d been so excited to meet him, this boy. He was another illegitimate child of her father’s by a different mother, though his mother wasn’t a servant, like hers. His mother was the daughter of a banker, and Brad Ellesmere had helped her set up house when she’d gotten pregnant, given her support until she found a husband. He’d stayed close to Joseph, too—Joseph was the favorite child, the son. Though, as with CeCe, he hadn’t given Joseph his family name.
Joseph had written her last week, asking to come and see her. They were family, he said, even if their family was on the wrong side of the blanket. He had no other legitimate brothers or sisters, and he was tracking down all of his father’s other children with his father’s blessing, hoping to find family where he had none. CeCe had no other brothers and sisters, either, and she’d replied to him enthusiastically, asking him to come.
“So,” she said to him now, trying not to fidget. “Have you found any other siblings?”
“Sure,” he said. “Two others, one in North Carolina and one in Baltimore. Dad sure did get around.” He stopped and blushed bright red. “Oh, jeez, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” CeCe shook her head. “I’ve heard it before. I’ve heard everything by now, as I’m sure you have.”
“It isn’t always easy,” Joseph agreed. “When I was a little kid, I used to lie in bed and dream about having normal parents.”
“Me, too.” CeCe felt her own face heating. There were other illegitimate girls at Idlewild, but she’d never talked to another girl about what it was like. “I used to daydream that Dad would come and sweep my mother off her feet and marry her.”
“So did I.” Joseph laughed. The sound was awkward, but CeCe liked it. It was exactly like her own awkward laugh. “I guess he can’t marry everyone.”
This was good, CeCe thought. This was really good. Having family that wasn’t Mother. She couldn’t believe he was being so nice to her when he didn’t have to, that he wasn’t embarrassed. “Who were the other two you found?” she asked. “Boys or girls?”
“Girls, both,” he said. He put his hands on the table and tried to keep them still. “Dad says I’m the only boy. The other two didn’t want to see me, though.” He shrugged. “Their mothers got married, too, like mine, and they don’t want anything to do with Dad or his other kids.”
Sisters. I have sisters. She tried to keep her expression calm. “That’s too bad.”
“Yeah. Say, I got you something.” He lifted a small cardboard box. “It’s just a little thing. I didn’t have time to get it wrapped or anything.”
CeCe blinked at the box. “A gift? Joseph, really . . .”
“Hey, you’re my sister, right?” he said softly. “It’s the least I can do. Open it up.”
She blinked hard and removed the lid from the box. Inside was a strange-looking cube of plastic, adorned with a knob and a lot of holes. “What, um,” she said, feeling stupid, “what is it?”
“It’s a radio,” he explained. He lifted the square from the box and turned it. “You switch it on here, see, and you tune in to a station using this knob. This is brand-new, CeCe. A prototype. Dad got me one last month. It’s the greatest thing.”
“Okay,” CeCe said cautiously. She’d seen radios before—the Ellesmeres had had one—but they were the size of cabinets. She’d never seen a radio so small. She was almost positive that such a thing was against Idlewild rules, but Joseph wouldn’t know that. “So I can just turn it on and listen to music?”
“Or radio shows, or whatever is on,” he said. “Sometimes there are symphonies, or operas, or big band shows. All kinds of things.”
She looked up at him, blinking in amazement. This really was a nice gift. “Wasn’t it expensive?”
