She walked for about an hour, then decided that she’d better get back to the cabin. No doubt they had dinner at a certain hour, and no doubt she was being discussed now as being a bad guest for not helping, et cetera, but her walk had done her good. It had been a shock to arrive at a place, uninvited, unwanted. And Roger’s reasons for begging her to go with him had been a shock, but now, as she stood under a tree that had to be a couple of hundred years old and looked down at the sparkling water, she thought, What the hell? She hadn’t wanted to go with Roger because she hadn’t wanted to nurse him. She’d wanted a break from twenty-four-hour-a-day nursing and now she was going to get it.
When she got back to the cabin, she was feeling much, much better.
“You must be Madison,” said a woman who greeted Madison the moment she stepped inside the door, and instantly, Madison knew that she was Mrs. Randall, Frank’s wife, the woman with the old, old money. She was small, and beautifully preserved. No surgeon’s knife had ever touched her face, but her skin was an example of what happened after a lifetime of care. What lines she had were confined to about her eyes, and her skin was soft and flawless. She wore lightweight wool trousers that had to be ten years old but Madison knew they must have cost a thousand dollars when new. And they had probably been made just for this woman. A pale pink cashmere twinset topped the trousers.
Later Madison couldn’t believe she’d said what she did, but maybe it was the fresh air on top of Roger’s taunts that she not embarrass him, but before she could stop herself, Madison said, “What, no pearls?”
The moment she said it, Madison put her hand over her mouth in horror, but Mrs. Randall laughed, then companionably clasped Madison’s arm to hers. “Frank said you were a delight, and now I see why. Oh, do come inside and liven up this place. All the girls are after your husband.”
“Whatever for?”
At that Mrs. Randall stopped and looked up at Madison, her face serious for a moment. “Oh, my goodness. Well, hmmm,” she said thoughtfully.
“I didn’t mean—” Madison began. “I mean—”
“No need for apologies, dear,” Mrs. Randall said, again starting to walk. “Are you hungry? Please tell me that you aren’t dieting to keep your slim figure.”
“No,” Madison said, smiling. “I work off any food I have time to eat by lifting Roger in and out of the bed.”
“I see,” Mrs. Randall said seriously. “I had no idea, but then I know Roger’s parents somewhat. Not socially, of course, but I have met them. And one hears things. I believe they like to spend their money where it can be seen.”
“Yes,” Madison said, and that’s all she could say. It was either that one word or she’d start talking and never stop.
“Well, dear, you stay with us and have a nice long rest. The girls will take Roger off your hands.”
“That would be kind of them,” Madison said, feeling better by the moment. This woman, who reeked good manners and old money, was making her feel better than she had in a long while.
Again, Mrs. Randall gave Madison a sharp, quick look. “Come in to dinner. And prepare to defend yourself.”
“I’ll do my best,” Madison answered as they entered the dining room.
Everyone was about to take a seat, but when they looked up and saw Madison, it was as though the proverbial wet blanket had been tossed over the room. The three young women, who were clustered around Roger and a blond man who was on crutches, broke apart, guilty looks on their faces.
Madison wanted to say, “Don’t stop on my account,” but she didn’t. Instead, she took the seat that Mrs. Randall pointed to and sat down. When everyone was seated, Mr. and Mrs. Randall at each end, Madison found she was next to Mrs. Randall, across from Terri, the young woman who had so lustily kissed her husband. The blond man, who introduced himself as Scotty, was next to Terri, and Roger was at the end next to Frank.
The huge pine table was loaded with great bowls of steaming hot food, all in plain blue-and-white china that looked as though it could have been purchased at Sears. But at the top of each plate was a W, which, without being told, Madison guessed was the initial of Mrs. Randall’s maiden name.
After everyone had helped themselves from the bowls of food, Mrs. Randall said brightly, “Thomas arrives tomorrow.”
When that announcement seemed to shock the whole group into stillness, Madison looked up from her plate. A feeling of gloom seemed to have descended on them.
“And who is Thomas?” Madison asked.
“My elder son,” Mrs. Randall answered, and there was laughter in her voice.
Curiously, Madison looked at the others at the table. Mr. Randall’s eyes were dancing in amusement, but Roger, Scotty, and the three young women had their noses almost to their plates.
This sight cheered Madison up considerably. “Tell me all about him,” she said happily, smiling at Mrs. Randall.
“How should I characterize my eldest son?” Mrs. Randall said, holding her fork aloft.
“He’s a throwback to an earlier generation of my wife’s family,” Frank said.
“Yes,” Mrs. Randall said. “The Wentworths seem to be divided into two groups, those who earn money and those who spend it.”
“I thought money was not to be spoken of at the table,” said Nina, who Madison had learned was the Randalls’ third and youngest child. Uncharitably, Madison thought that it was a good thing that she had money because upon closer view, the girl was not attractive. She gave the illusion of being pretty, the illusion that time and money gave a person, but . . . well, Madison thought, ten years from now she was going to look much more like her father than her mother.
“That’s in public, dear,” Mrs. Randall said. “In private we may speak of what we want.” She turned back to Madison. “What my husband is saying is that my eldest son is one of the earners. Thomas has his nose to more serious matters than the rest of us have. My son has finished his third year of medical school. He’s going into rehabilitation medicine.”
“And will probably do something great and noble,” Scotty said under his breath; then the others, including Roger, snickered.
That Roger was close enough to the family that he knew their private jokes made Madison angry. In the last two years she’d tried to get him to talk to her about something other than what was hurting him and how miserable he was. Why couldn’t he have told her about the Randalls?
“He sounds like a nice man,” Madison said, looking at Mrs. Randall.
“I think so, but then I’m prejudiced. Nice or not, Thomas is certainly unique. You know how mothers say, ‘Johnny didn’t smile until he was four and a half months old. I was ready to give up’? I’m still waiting for my elder son’s first smile.”
At that everyone at the table laughed politely and Madison knew that it was an oft-repeated story, but she was still intrigued by this other brother. Maybe right now she was feeling an affinity with him.
“Thomas will hate you.”
Turning to the speaker, Madison said, “I beg your pardon?”
Everyone was looking at Robbie, aghast at her rudeness. “I meant nothing personal. It’s just that Thomas isn’t interested in pretty girls.”
“Speaking from experience?” Scotty asked, then, like a junior high kid, looked at Roger to share the joke.
“Why would I be interested in Thomas?” Robbie snapped at him. “I’m not a masochist.”
Scotty looked at Madison. “What Robbie is in a snit about is that she made a pass at my big brother last year, but he turned her down. Not enough brains for his taste.”
“I’ll have you know that—” Robbie began, but Scotty cut her off.
“My brother got the brains, but I got the looks,” he said, then nudged Roger in the ribs. “But looks like ol’ Roge and I have gets us through, doesn’t it? The two of us barely made it through college. If it hadn’t been for the girl Roger was—” At that Scotty broke off at a look from his mother. “Anyway,” Scotty said, “she did all our homework for
us.”
Turning to Scotty, Madison smiled at him with such warmth that she could almost see him melt. It had been years since she’d been looked at as Frank and his son were looking at her now.
“Tell me everything about the two of you in college,” Madison said in a deeper-than-usual voice, then lowered her eyes seductively. When she looked back up, Scotty was staring at her with his mouth hanging open, Roger was grinding his teeth in anger, all three of the girls looked as though they could happily have scratched her eyes out, Mr. Randall was looking at her adoringly—and Mrs. Randall looked as though she were about to burst into laughter.
As for Madison, she felt beautiful and she hadn’t felt beautiful since . . . Well, actually since that day over two years ago when she’d sat on a bench at the DMV in New York City beside two other young women.
For the rest of the meal, Madison listened to the others talking, but she was in her own world. It was finally beginning to sink in that she really was in this gorgeous place and she would not have to take care of Roger. It was obvious that the Randall summerhouse came equipped with servants, so Madison wouldn’t be required to help peel potatoes as she often did at Roger’s house. But then, sitting in the kitchen chatting with the cook was a relief from the sickroom.
Vaguely, she heard more talk of this oldest brother, Thomas. It seemed that he was good at anything he tried.
“Of course Thomas wouldn’t attempt anything he wasn’t going to be the best at,” his sister, Nina, said with contempt in her voice, making Madison look up at her.
“Better than changing majors every semester,” Scotty shot back.
“Why do we have to talk about Thomas?” Robbie said in a little-girl whine. “So he was the captain of the Yale soccer team. So he’s top of his class in everything he does. Does that mean he’s lovable?” At that she looked at Mrs. Randall in horror at what she’d said. “I mean . . .” Her face turned red.
Scotty looked at Madison. “You’ve seen that my sister’s friend does little else except put her foot in her mouth. Last summer she made a fool of herself over my older brother, but Thomas didn’t so much as look at her.”
“I did not!” Robbie said, tears in her voice. “I thought he looked lonely, so I talked to him, that’s all.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Scotty said. “And that’s why you bought four of those . . . What do you call them?”
“I believe they’re called string bikinis,” Mrs. Randall said, smiling.
“I’m not going to listen to any more of this!” Robbie said as she shoved her chair back and ran from the table.
Picking up the bread basket, Mrs. Randall offered it to Madison. “Now, dear, you see why I don’t wear pearls. If I did, I might be tempted to strangle someone with them.”
At that Madison laughed hard at the joke that only she and Mrs. Randall understood.
I like these people and I like this place, Madison thought. Not the girls, but the parents, anyway. As she looked about the room at the old hunting prints on one wall and the blue-and-white checked curtains over the big window, she thought, Yes, indeed, I like this place.
And it was at that moment that she vowed that she was going to have a good time. She was going to ignore whatever Roger did and she was going to enjoy herself. Now, as she glanced down the table at him, she could see that he was flirting with Nina. Since Terri was at the other end of the table, now it was Nina.
What kind of wife can sit and watch her husband flirt with another woman and feel nothing? Madison thought to herself. And instantly, she knew the answer: A wife who wants out, she thought.
With that thought came a great feeling of relief to Madison. She had made a mistake in returning to Roger. She’d left what could have been a lucrative career in modeling to return to a man who said he loved her, but it had been a mistake.
And she’d paid the price for that mistake. She had given up everything she had for Roger over these years. She had even lost her ability to have children, she thought, but she couldn’t dwell on that. That hurt was too deep.
But now, as she watched her husband flirting, she felt a wonderful lightness. She was still young and she was still pretty, not as pretty as she had been before she’d given years of her life to nursing a sick mother, then a crippled husband, but she was all right. She still had hope, anyway.
“Madison, dear,” Mrs. Randall said as she put her slim hand on Madison’s wrist, “are you all right?”
“Actually, I am very all right. Would you mind if I went fishing tomorrow?”
“Fishing?” Mrs. Randall asked in surprise. “I would never have guessed that you . . .”
“Liked to do anything except slather beauty products on my skin?” Madison asked, amused.
Mrs. Randall’s eyes sparkled. “We have a lot to learn about each other, don’t we?” she said softly so the others wouldn’t hear. “But, yes, of course, do whatever you like. Would you like someone to go with you?”
“No. Just by myself. If that’s all right.”
Mrs. Randall knew what Madison was asking. Did she have to be part of group social activities? Did they all get together and decide that two would do this, four that, etcetera?
“It’s quite all right,” Mrs. Randall said. “And tomorrow I want you to meet my son Thomas. He also likes to fish.”
Madison gave a glance down the table at Roger. He now had both Nina and Terri leaning across the table toward him as he told some story. Probably about some mad escapade that he’d had in high school, Madison thought. She turned back to Mrs. Randall. “Thank you, but I think I’d like to have a holiday from men.”
“I understand completely,” Mrs. Randall said with a smile. “My home is yours. On one condition, that is.”
“Which is?” Madison asked cautiously.
“That you call me Brooke. All my friends do.”
For a moment Madison blinked at the woman. She’d felt a bond with both her and her husband, but she hadn’t realized that the feeling was mutual. Also, Madison knew that Robbie, who was about the same age as Madison and who had visited the Randalls many times before, was still calling this woman Mrs. Randall. But she was asking Madison to call her Brooke, and she was saying that Madison was her “friend.”
“I would be honored,” Madison said softly, then exchanged a smile with the woman.
“How about tea on the porch? You go get a heavy sweater while I get the brandy.”
“Perfect!” Madison said as the two women got up, leaving the three men and two women sitting at the table. And as Madison went back to her room, she thought, Why couldn’t my in-laws be like these people?
Seven
Madison saw Thomas before he saw her. And right away, she knew that she’d never been as attracted to anyone in her life as she was to him. Her mother had always disliked Roger. Her mother had said that Madison stayed with Roger because he didn’t demand too much from her. “He isn’t a challenge to you in any way. And he makes you fit in,” she’d said to her daughter. Her mother said because Madison had spent most of her life either alone or in a succession of day-care centers, Madison wanted to belong to someone somewhere. So Roger was safe. Being with him had guaranteed that Madison was included in all the “right” parties in high school. And Madison had had the insight to know that if she hadn’t had Roger, her height and her looks would have made her ostracized by the girls and a target of lecherous little games by the boys. Yes, Roger had been safe.
But if she were truthful with herself, Roger had never made her heart jump into her throat as it did when she saw Thomas Randall.
And it was odd that she was attracted to him because Thomas didn’t have the appearance of a man who would inspire passion in a woman. He wasn’t like the hero in a romantic novel. For one thing, he had what had to be a permanent scowl on his face. Maybe his eyes were round and the color of sapphires, but no one could tell because Thomas’s forehead was drawn down into a frown that made two deep creases between his eyes and drew his eyes into mere slits.
However, his eyes were topped by lashes so thick they looked like the false ones glued onto the eyes of dolls. He had a short nose, then what may have been soft full lips, but like his eyes, Thomas kept his lips pulled into a tight line.
As for his body, Thomas was tall, about six feet, and well proportioned and muscular, and from behind, he was delicious. He had broad shoulders, a muscular back, a slim waist, and legs made heavy from years of playing soccer. And, from what Madison had heard, his body had enticed many women to approach him. But so far, not one of them had been able to stand up against what they saw when Thomas turned around. His deep, permanent scowl frightened people away.
But it wasn’t the scowl that sent Madison scurrying into hiding. No, it was the way she felt drawn to him. She had been about to step into the kitchen, which at five A.M. was already bustling with activity. After all, it took time to cover the sideboard with eggs prepared three ways, pancakes, waffles, two kinds of potatoes, fish caught that morning, and four kinds of bread.
“Master Thomas,” said the huge woman who was the Randalls’ cook and whom Madison had seen only briefly the day before. When Madison had asked Roger about her, she’d been told that the woman had worked for Scotty’s mother’s family “forever.”
“Adelia,” Thomas said, frowning at the woman. “Anything to eat?”
At that Madison wanted to weep in frustration. She’d wanted to leave the house without anyone seeing her. Roger was still asleep, since he’d sat up with Scotty and “the girls” until three A.M., drinking beer and reminiscing about people Madison had never met. She’d had no inclination to spend the evening with them, so she’d excused herself and gone to bed. This morning, she’d hoped to sneak out of the house before anyone was awake, so she’d tiptoed about, picked out some fishing gear from where Brooke had shown her it was stored, and set out.
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