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"Yes," I said. I rose from the piano stool, ran my fingers lightly over the keys, and followed Tony and Logan out of the room, the memory of Troy's music slowly dying away as we went in to dinner.
Six A Face in the Darkness
. THE NEXT DAY JILLIAN'S DOCTOR CAME TO EXAMINE AND reevaluate her condition. He concluded that she was in remarkably good physical health, but she had indeed changed from a confused, disoriented state to a hypertense and volatile one. He prescribed tranquilizers. Martha Goodman was satisfied and agreed to stay on as Milan's private nurse.
The day after the doctor's visit Tony and Logan went to Winnerrow with Paul Grant, the architect, to view the site for the factory. I accompanied them to meet with him a week later to discuss his preliminary plans for the structure and the grounds around it. I was immediately impressed with Paul and liked all of his suggestions. He had built a scale model of the planned factory and included the landscaping as well. It looked like an intricate Tatterton Toy.
"I'd like to keep the integrity of the woods here," he said, pointing to the right of the model, "and build a simple circular drive that branches off for deliveries here. Of course, the building should be all wood. A metal or stone building in this setting would be . ."
He looked up at me. "Quite out of character. Wouldn't you say?"
I didn't reply, but he knew I approved. He smiled and went on with his explanations. Somehow he had styled the factory after a cabinlike structure so that it looked like it belonged in the outskirts of Winnerow. There was a cafeteria for the artisans to have their lunch; there were large work spaces; there was plenty of storage and a good-sized delivery and packaging room. There was an office for Logan or Tony to use whenever they were there. He had even built an executive rest area.
"I'd like the model when you're finished with it," I said.
"Of course, Mrs. Stonewall. . . deliver it personally," he said. I knew he was flirting with me, but neither Logan nor Tony seemed to notice.
Logan began to spend a great deal of time traveling back and forth to Winnerow. Tony accompanied him a few times, but most of the trips Logan made alone. He was truly in charge. I decided there was no reason for me to go back to Winnerow until the factory was completed.
A little more than a month after the start of construction, Logan began making his treks through the Willies in search of the natural artisans who would be solicited for work later on. Whenever he returned from one of these trips and described some of the people he met, I was always reminded of Grandpa. Some of the names Logan mentioned were still familiar to me. He wanted me to go along with him on this search, but I thought it might be too painful for me, might bring back too many vivid memories of all I had lost.
In the meantime I settled into a quiet existence at Farthy. When Logan was away, I took my dinners with Tony, who often talked about the Boston theater scene. He was always offering to buy tickets to this show or that.
"After all, we often decide whether or not they'll take their show to New York. We're very important to the theater world," he said. He tried everything to get me to accompany him to one of the new shows. I was content with reading, occasionally going horseback riding for exercise, and helping Martha Goodman with Jillian, who, with the help of the tranquilizers, had become quite subdued and rather like a sweet little girl. She rarely mentioned ghosts anymore.
Finally, part out of boredom and partly out of genuine interest in a new show opening in Boston, I agreed to accompany Tony one Saturday night. Logan was in Winnerow and wouldn't return until the following Wednesday. I went to my closet to decide what to wear and sifted through some of the dresses Tony had bought to fill the closet in my new suite. It had all been part of that surprise, but until now I really hadn't inspected the garments.
Near the end of the rack, I discovered a black satin dress with a pleated skirt and a sleeveless lace bodice. The bodice was to be worn off shoulder. The neckline was heart-shaped, which made it rather revealing. Tony had always had such a good eye for style and size, something I had discovered when he had taken me to purchase a wardrobe after I had been enrolled in the Winterhaven School, a private school for rather affluent girls. When I put the dress on and gazed at myself in the mirror, I felt the tingle in the small of my stomach that comes with the awareness of my own sexual allure. My bosom was lifted, deepening my cleavage. I felt positively tantalizing. I knew that in such a dress the ripeness of my womanhood was revealed. Gone was the soft, innocent look that had once been mine.
I pinned up my hair, showing the long line of my neck. My skin was smooth and soft where it dipped to meet my shoulders. I had a hand-knit, light wool shawl to drape over my shoulders, which I knew would suffice on such a warm summer's evening. I used a minimum of makeup, just a slight touch of eye shadow and some light pink lipstick.
After making these preparations, I stepped back and gazed at myself. It felt good to dress up; it felt good to be going somewhere. Since our honeymoon, Logan had been so wrapped up in his work and the factory in Winnerow, we had done very little together. I was glad I had finally given in to Tony's continual requests to join him for a show. The thought of moving about in Boston's high society and being entertained was invigorating.
A gentle knock on my bedroom door quickly pulled me out of my reverie. It was Tony, dressed in a black tuxedo, a white shirt and winged collar with a black bow tie. For a moment he simply stood there, staring in at me, a strangely troubled look in his eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"What? Oh, no, no, nothing's wrong," he stammered. Then he caught hold of himself, sighed, and beamed his warmest smile at me. "I . . there's no color more flattering to you than black. It's the same with your grandmother. My God, Heaven, you're absolutely breathtaking. Your grandmother was beautiful; your mother was more beautiful; but you are the most beautiful."
"Thank you," I said, "but . ."
"I was hoping you would wear that dress. But most of all I wa
nted you to wear these." He held up one of Jillian's most expensive diamond necklaces and matching earrings.
"Oh, Tony, I couldn't. I shouldn't." I shook my head and stepped back.
"Nonsense. I insist. They're simply fading away in a drawer."
He came around behind me and draped the necklace around my neck, fastening it quickly. Then he took hold of my shoulders and turned me to the mirror.
"Behold, how you flatter the diamonds and not vice versa," he said. The glittering stones felt warm against my skin and revived that tingling in the small of my stomach. I held my breath as Tony ran his fingers over the diamonds, his blue eyes sparkling almost as brightly.
"Thank you," I said, my throat nearly closing before I could utter the words. He had pressed his lips to the top of my head and closed his eyes.
"You're wearing jasmine, Jillian's jasmine. Leigh used to wear it, too," he whispered.
"Well, I. . . it was here and I. ."
