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"I know. Her records were forwarded. The principal believes she was acting out to get help," I told her.
"I'm sorry," she responded quickly, "but I can't believe any of what she told you about Clayton. I wish you would believe me, too. He's not that sort."
"Mrs. Osborne, I must tell you that there are problems with Fern. She does have emotional difficulties. Something happened to her; something went wrong," I insisted.
"She was a problem child right from the start. We even had trouble with her when she was in first grade. I don't know what to say," Leslie Osborne replied.
"Well, I hope she will change for the better," I said.
"It was nothing we did," Leslie maintained. "We tried to give her everything she could want."
"Maybe that was part of it, Mrs. Osborne. She does show signs of being spoiled. Giving a girl that young such a big allowance, for example . . ."
"Allowance? She never had a regular allowance. Clayton was against that. She was given money whenever she needed it for specific things, but he didn't believe in her getting a weekly amount to squander on silly things."
"No allowance? Well, somehow she managed to save hundreds of dollars," I told her. "I saw it myself, in her pocketbook."
There was a tiny cry from her end.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's my money," she said. "She was taking it behind my back, I'm afraid. I couldn't imagine why I didn't have as much as I was supposed to in my pocketbook.
"I must tell you," she continued, "that she once took money from a friend who had slept overnight. I never told Clayton about that time because he gets so worked up over those things, but I should have realized. I don't know why she steals; she never lacked anything. She's not still doing that sort of thing, is she?" she asked quickly.
"No," I lied.
"Good. Then maybe she will change for the better. Just do me one favor," she said.
"Of course. What is it?"
"When you can, when the moment allows, please tell her I still love her very much. Will you?" she begged.
"Yes," I said.
"I'll try to call you again real soon," she said, and then she said good-bye.
Later in the day I found Jimmy on his way down to the basement. I stopped him and told him about my telephone conversation with Leslie Osborne. His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head.
"It's just like the school principal said," he remarked when I told him of her stealing. "She was trying to reach out, to get someone to notice her and the terrible thing that was happening to her."
"But Jimmy, it's not happening to her here. Why should she still steal?"
"If she did," he emphasized. "If she did. I still think that money's been misplaced. Anyway, even if she did, it's just a bad habit now," he added. "She's going to grow out of it as she becomes more and more secure about us and herself. You'll see.
"Besides," he said, growing angry, "I wouldn't believe anything that woman said. Those two . . . How could she not know what her husband was doing? Next time she calls, don't speak to her," he commanded. "She was either blind or too selfish to see," he added, and he marched away.
Oh, Jimmy, I thought fearfully as I watched him turn the corner in the hallway, it's you who have become blind now.
And how will I ever get you to see?
17
TARNISHED IMAGES
MOTHER MADE GOOD ON HER PROMISE AND HELD A DINNER IN Fern's honor. As usual, it was more of a banquet. Why she felt it was necessary to impress a ten-and-a-half-year-old girl, I'll never know, but there we were, seated at the long table: Mother in one of her elegant gowns, Bronson dressed impeccably as usual in a burgundy sports jacket and matching cravat, and servants flying all around us, pouring water and wine, mixing our salads, hovering nearby to lunge if one of us should so much as lean toward the butter dish. The one
thing that Mother did to please me was not invite any other guests. There were only members of the family present: Jimmy and me and Christie, Philip, Betty Ann and the twins, and Fern, of course, who Mother insisted be permitted to sit at the head of the table.
