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Thatcher. When does he plan on using this place?" I asked him one night.
"Whenever he does," he replied. "he'll let me know well in advance."
"Will he be at our wedding?"
"Of course. Do you know anyone who won't?" he countered, and we laughed.
How happy these days were for me, enjoying college, enjoying Mother's newfound happiness and Linden getting stronger and stronger. Not a day went by that he didn't have some new idea about the main house, things we should do, especially to eradicate any trace of Bunny and Asher's presence.
"I must confess to you," Mother told me as we started out for Whitney's home on the day of my shower. "I had grave doubts that we would get this far. For weeks and months. I've anticipated a phone call that would tell us it was all off. even the move back into the main house. I was afraid to hope, to believe. You have brought us such joy. Willow. I am so grateful to your father for having the courage to tell you the truth and in his own way to send you to me. What a gift of love he made."
"To both of us. Mother," I said. To both of us."
We pulled up to the gates of Whitney's estate. The twenty-foot hedges blocked any view of the interior and the gates themselves seemed to rise into the clouds. Someone must have been watching on a video security system because we were stopped only a few seconds before the gates, as if by magic, began to open.
"I wonder if the president of the United States is as well protected," I muttered,
Whitney's husband. Hans Shugar, was truly a trust baby, inheriting the Shugar detergent fortune. It was a German company that sold its products throughout Europe and the Far East. Whitney, Hans, and their children lived on El Vedado, one of Palm Beach's three Els, three streets that ran parallel from South Ocean Boulevard to Lake Worth-- the neighborhood for the bluest of the blue bloods. Thatcher told me Hans had bought a mansion for four million and ripped it down to build their Georgian estate.
I already knew that it had more than thirty rooms and stood on twice the acreage of Jaya del Mar. but I wasn't prepared for the immensity of the property, the gardens and mazes, the walkways and palm trees that lined the property like sentinels. It looked more like a palace. No wonder that they feel so superior to everyone else, I thought. She must fantasize daily that she is indeed a princess ruling over some principality.
There were at least two dozen luxury
automobiles parked in front, as well as two limousines with their drivers chatting.
"The yearly upkeep for this estate is probably close to the GNP of most third-world countries," I muttered as we parked.
"When Jackie Lee and I first came to Palm Beach, we were invited to parties in homes similar to this because of my mother's involvement with Winston, Jackie Lee used to say, 'Close your eyes, Grace, and pretend you're Alice dropping into Wonderland. The trick is never to show them just how impressed you are. Keep your eyes from getting too big, and never put an exclamation point at the end of any sentence while you're here.' "
"It was good advice," I said.
"Let's follow it. then," Mother declared, and although I saw she was trembling a little, having to submerge herself into the pool of high society after so many years estranged from it all, she managed a smile and walked with her head high as we were greeted by Whitney's daughter. Laurel.
"Please come in," she said, stepping back. "My mother and her guests are waiting for you." She made it sound like a reprimand for tardiness. She had Whitney's way of turning her eyes into critical orbs of cold gray and pursing her lips in a stern expression of disapproval.
"Hello, Laurel." Mother said, smiling at her. "It's been a while since I've seen you You've grown so tall."
"It's not necessarily bad for a woman to be tall." she retorted. "My mother is tall."
"No, it's not bad at all," Mother said, holding on to her pleasant tone and smile. There was something in Laurel that stirred some memories. I thought, memories of herself, perhaps. although I couldn't see how.
Nevertheless, Laurel appeared to warm a bit under Mother's glow.
"Normally, our butler would greet you, but my mother thought it would be nicer for me to greet the guests," she explained.
"It is," I said.
She looked like she wanted to smile, but
had been told not to smile too much, which she took to mean not to smile at all,
"I know that everyone else is here. All the other guests have already arrived."
"That's good," I said. "Then we've timed it just right." She turned her head stiffly toward me.
"You're going to be my aunt," she declared, "Do you want me to call you Aunt Willow or just Willow?'
"Whatever you wish," I said.
