Chapter 4

The attack I was bracing against didn’t come. Instead, the red-eyed devil withdrew his hand and straightened his back. “All right, then,” he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “you can just get yourself up.”

My muscles relaxed, except for those between my eyes that pulled my brow into a frown. “I . . .”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so. I—”

He lifted his chin and started to move away. I knew what he was, but I’d never seen one before and I hadn’t expected to see one now. That’s what startled me. I pushed myself up from the floor.

Abruptly, he swung around. “Just who are you anyway? And what are you doing here in the ballroom? It’s off-limits during the summer season, you know. You can do your dancing on the island like everyone else.”

“Listen,” I said, “I’m sorry. I’m Eve Marryat. I just came in here because I couldn’t sleep and—”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I know the name.” He nodded slightly, the dim light in the room illuminating his pale skin, his stark white hair. Combed straight back without a part, his hair was a ghostly halo on top of his narrow face. Central to that face were the two crimson eyes, glowing like rubies on a bed of lambs’ wool. He wore a washed-out gray shirt that was several shades darker than his skin and a pair of weathered denim pants held up with black suspenders. It was hard to tell, but I guessed him to be a few years older than I was.

When he didn’t go on, I said, “I’m Cyrus’s niece.”

“Yeah.” He nodded again. “I know. He said you were coming.”

“And you are . . . ?”

“Jones.”

“Jones?”

“That’s right. Jones.”

My frown returned. I was trying not to stare at those strange red eyes, but the sight of them unnerved me. I slowly became aware that my thumbs were rubbing my index fingers like worry stones. “What’s your first name?” I asked.

“That is my first name. It was my mother’s maiden name.” He said this as he walked to the phonograph and lifted the needle from the record. The room was suddenly, jarringly quiet. He turned off the phonograph and put the lid down as though to tell me it was off-limits.

But I wasn’t paying much attention. I was trying to connect the dots as I followed him to the stage. “Your mother?” I said. “Wait. You don’t mean Cora?”

“Yeah, I do. So?”

“You’re her son?”

“That’s right. What about it?”

“How come I never heard of you?”

He lifted his shoulders, seemingly indifferent. “Beats me.”

“You weren’t here for the wedding. You weren’t here when she married Uncle Cy.”

“That’s right, I wasn’t. I was still in Chicago. I was staying with relatives because I had pneumonia.”

“So when did you come down?”

“About a month later, I guess. I don’t really remember. Why?”

“No one ever mentioned you.”

“So?”

“Well, it’s a pretty big secret, isn’t it? I mean, you’ve been here five years and Uncle Cy never told us about you?”

“It’s no secret, just because you don’t mention someone.”

I found myself momentarily speechless. My fingers were becoming sore from the rubbing. I willed myself to stop but wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. “Well, I mean, you’re family, right? Isn’t Uncle Cy your stepfather?”

He shrugged. “Sure. If you want to put it that way.”

“Then that means we’re step-cousins. Right?”

“I suppose we are,” he said, though he sounded reluctant to agree.

“And you live here? At the lodge?”

“Yeah.” He nodded toward Uncle Cy’s apartment behind the ballroom. “I live and work here. What do you expect?”

“Well, I’m just wondering . . . what else don’t we know?”

“What do you mean?”

“What else hasn’t Uncle Cy told us?”

“Beats me. And if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

We locked eyes a moment, his growing narrow as I slowly moved my head from side to side. “Listen,” I said, “I’m sorry I was afraid at first. It’s just . . . well, I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone.”

“Yeah? Especially not someone like me, huh?”

“Well, I . . .”

“You’ve probably never even seen someone like me before, have you?”

I hesitated only a moment before answering truthfully. “No, I haven’t. Not that I haven’t heard of people like you. That is, I know there are people like you, even though I’ve never seen one or seen a picture or even thought very much about them. I . . .” I stopped. This wasn’t going well. My nervousness was tying my tongue up in knots. I took a deep breath. “Look,” I said, “why don’t we start over? It’s very nice to meet you, Jones.”

His features stiffened into a sneer. He took one step back. “Yeah,” he said. “I bet.”

He turned and walked away without saying another word.