“This really is a big to-do, isn’t it, Jean?” Gordon Amory asked.
He was sitting to her right, on the second tier of the dais where the honorees had been placed. Below them, the local congressman, the mayor of Cornwall-on-Hudson, the sponsors of the dinner, the president of Stonecroft, and several trustees were observing the packed ballroom with satisfaction.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
“Did it occur to you to invite your mother and father to this grand occasion?”
If there had not been a wry note in Gordon’s voice, Jean would have been angry, but at his touch of humor, she responded in kind. “No. Did it occur to you to invite yours?”
“Of course not. As a matter of fact, you’ve probably noticed that not one of our fellow honorees seems to have brought a beaming parent to share this moment of triumph.”
“From what I understand, most of our parents have moved away. Mine were gone the summer I graduated from Stonecroft. Gone and split, as you may know,” Jean added.
“As are mine. When I consider the six of us sitting here, supposedly the pride of our graduating class, I’ve decided that of all of us, Laura was probably the only one who enjoyed growing up here. I think you were quite unhappy, as was I, as were Robby and Mark and Carter. Robby was an indifferent student in a family of intellectuals, and was always being threatened with the loss of his scholarship to Stonecroft. Humor became his armor and his retreat. Mark’s parents let the world know that they wished his brother had been spared, and that Mark had been the son who died. His reaction was to become a psychiatrist treating adolescents. I wonder if he has been trying to treat the adolescent inside.”
Physician, heal thyself, Jean thought, and suspected that Gordon might be right.
“Howie, or Carter as he insists on being called, had a father who used to whack him and his mother around,” Gordon continued. “Howie stayed out of the house as much as possible. You knew that he used to be caught peeking in windows. What was he trying to do, get a glimpse of normal home life? Don’t you think that might be why his plays are so dark?”
Jean decided to sidestep that one. “That leaves you and me,” she said quietly.
“My mother was a slovenly housekeeper. You may remember that when our house caught on fire, the joke in town was that that was the only way to really clean it. I now have three homes and confess to being positively obsessed with the need for cleanliness in every one of them, which is why my marriage failed. But then, that was a mistake from the beginning.”
“And my mother and father had public brawls. Isn’t that what you’re remembering about me, Gordon?” She knew that was exactly what he was thinking.
“I was remembering how easily kids get embarrassed and that with the exception of Laura, who was always the golden girl of our class, you and Carter and Robby and Mark and I had a tough row to hoe. We certainly didn’t need our parents to make it harder for us, but one way or the other, they all did. Look, Jean, I wanted to change so much, I got myself a whole new face. But when the chips are down, I sometimes wake up to find I’m still Gordie the nerd, the dopey-looking kid it was fun to pick on. You’ve made a name for yourself in academic circles, and now you’ve written a book that is not only critically acclaimed but a best-seller. But who are you inside?”
Who indeed? Inside, I’m still too often the needy outsider, Jean thought, but she was saved from answering when Gordon suddenly smiled boyishly and said, “One should never get too philosophical over dinner. Maybe I’ll feel differently after they hang that medal on me. What do you think, Laura?”
He turned to speak to her, and Jean turned to Jack Emerson who was on her left.
“That seems to be an intense discussion you’ve been having with Gordon,” he observed.
Jean noted the naked curiosity on his face. The last thing she wanted to do was continue with him the conversation she had been having with Gordon. “Oh, we were just gossiping about growing up here, Jack,” she said glibly.
I was so unsure of myself, she thought. I was so thin and awkward. My hair was stringy. I was always waiting for my mother and father to start blasting at each other again. I felt so guilty when they told me that the only reason they were staying together was for my sake. All I wanted to do was grow up and get as far away as possible. And I did.
“Cornwall was a great place to grow up,” Jack said heartily. “Never could understand why more of you didn’t settle here or at least buy a country retreat for yourselves around here, now that you’re all so successful. Incidentally, if you ever decide you want one, Jeannie, I have some properties listed that I can promise you are little jewels.”
Jean remembered that Alice Sommers had told her the rumor was that Jack Emerson was the new owner of Alice’s former home. “Any in my old neighborhood?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. I’m talking about places with drop-dead river views. When can I take you around and show them to you?”
Never, Jean thought. I’m not coming back here to live. I just want to get out of here. First, though, I have to find out who is contacting me about Lily. It’s just a hunch, but I’d stake my life that that person is sitting in this room right now. I want this dinner to be over so that I can meet Alice and the detective she has brought here tonight. I have to believe that somehow he will be able to help me find Lily and remove any threat to her safety. And when I am sure that she is well and happy, I need to go back to my adult world. Being here for twenty-four hours has already made me realize that, for better or for worse, whatever I have become was because of the life I led here, and I have to make peace with that.
“Oh, I don’t think I’m in the market for a home in Cornwall,” she told Jack Emerson.
“Maybe not now, Jeannie,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “but I bet that someday soon I’ll find a place for you to stay. In fact, I’m sure of it.”