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"No, Mother. On the contrary, she's a very outgoing, exuberant little girl."
"Really? I can only remember how I was after your . . . my father-in-law . . . took advantage of me," she said.
"Maybe it's because she's still a little girl at heart," I suggested. "As Jimmy says, children are more resilient. When I think about all he and I went through, I guess he's right," I added. Mother didn't want to hear any of that.
"Yes," Mother said. "Well, now, I'll have to have a dinner to celebrate all this. I'll call you as soon as I make all the arrangements."
"Mother," I warned, "make it a simple dinner. No mob scene."
"Really, Dawn, I don't have mob scenes," Mother protested.
"You know what I mean, Mother. We don't want to overwhelm Fern."
"I think I know how to make a proper family dinner," she bragged.
"All right, Mother. Thank you," I said, and I left it at that.
The next few days I was quite occupied with Fern. I took her shopping to get her more clothing and the things she would need to start school, most of which she had left behind in New York because of her abrupt flight from the Osbornes. Jimmy assured me Clayton Osborne wouldn't forward a single thing.
"He won't bear the expense," Jimmy said.
However, I could see from the clothing Fern chose and her selections of shoes and other things that she was accustomed to buying the most expensive goods. She was quite familiar with brand names, especially designer names. Clayton Osborne obviously hadn't been any sort of Scrooge when it came to the things she needed and wanted, I thought. When I asked her about it, she snapped back quickly with, "He bought me whatever I wanted so I wouldn't tell anyone what he was doing."
"Why didn't he buy you the dollhouse you wanted that Christmas, then?" I inquired as we were leaving the department store in Virginia Beach.
She didn't answer for a long moment, and then she said,
"Oh, he did, finally, after he came in to give me a bath again. Do I have to talk about that?" she asked quickly afterward. "Of course not, honey," I said. "I was just curious." She looked satisfied.
The next day I registered her in the Cutler's Cove School. The principal, Mr.
Youngman, said he would have to contact the Marion Lewis School for Fern's records.
"We have to know where her strengths and weaknesses are in order to place her correctly. Do you play an instrument, Fern?" he asked her.
"No," she said quickly. She glanced at me and then added, "I wanted to play the flute, but my stepfather thought it was a waste of time."
"I see. Well, maybe we can start you on the flute here, if you'd like. Your niece Christie is quite a little pianist already," he added, smiling.
I thought Fern might be excited about starting an instrument, but she didn't seem enthusiastic. In fact, when we left she was glum for the first time since her arrival. I imagined it was because of her nervousness at starting a new school. Goodness knows, I understood what that was like, having had to leave and start one new school after another. Each time was a major emotional crisis because new students were always the objects of close scrutiny. When I entered a school after it had already begun I was singled out and put under a magnifying glass. I knew other girls were inspecting my clothing and thinking about my hair. I knew boys were gawking at my figure and my face, and I knew teachers were wondering what sort of student they were getting now.
From what Fern had told us, she had been transferred to and from a number of schools and had gone through similar experiences.
"This is a very nice school system, Fern," I reassured her. "You'll like it here. Everyone is friendly and concerned. The teachers know their students well, and because it's a small community, they know the families well, too."
She didn't look relieved.
"You'll go to school every day in the limousine with Christie," I said, hoping that would cheer her up a bit, but she had a reaction opposite to what I expected.
"The other students will just hate me for being a little rich girl," she complained. She had a way of pulling the corners of her mouth up and clenching her teeth when something displeased her.
"Is that what happened to you before?"
"Sometimes," she said. "The teachers resent you, too, because you come from a rich family and you have so much more than they do."
"Oh, no, Fern. That won't happen to you here. Christie loves her teachers, and they adore her. I'm sure you'll adjust and everything will be fine," I said, but she still didn't look convinced.
Then she brightened and asked, "When can I start working in the hotel?"
