Meg at Sixteen

by Susan Beth Pfeffer

  “I haven’t been honest with you, Aunt Grace,” Meg said. “You forbade me to see Nicky, and I’ve been seeing him anyway.”

  “You will have to be punished,” Aunt Grace replied. “I’m afraid when I tell Marcus what you’ve been doing, he’ll insist on something quite severe.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Meg said. “You can do whatever you like with me, and I’ll still love Nicky.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Aunt Grace said. “But will he still love you?”

  Nick nodded. “Forever, I’m afraid.”

  Aunt Grace turned to him. “Perhaps I’ve been focusing on the wrong person,” she said. “Perhaps the best form of punishment for Margaret is to punish you.”

  “How?” Nick asked. “I haven’t committed any crimes. And I doubt you’re going to lock me up in your house.”

  “I can give a copy of the detective’s report to the Sinclair family,” Aunt Grace declared. “Robert Sinclair can read it, then tell all his cronies at Princeton the truth about your parentage. You’ll have no friends there once they learn how you’ve been lying to them.”

  “Aunt Grace,” Meg said. “Don’t hurt Nicky. It isn’t fair.”

  “She won’t be hurting me,” Nick said. “Feel free to tell the world what you’ve learned, Miss Winslow,” he declared. “Three months ago, it would have mattered to me. Now it doesn’t. Daisy’s the only one who counts, and she knows everything.”

  “I’m sure if I had to, I could have you expelled from Princeton,” Aunt Grace said. “They must have some sort of moral code there, and I undoubtedly number enough Princeton alumni among my friends to see it enforced.”

  “Miss Winslow, I’m going to marry Daisy,” Nick said. “We’ll all be better off if that’s a given in this conversation. Now, I can marry her today, or tomorrow, or two years from now, but one way or another, we’re going to be married. I imagine I’ll seem a little less awful to you if I’ve graduated from Princeton, but if that’s truly unimportant to you, then get me expelled. The sooner I’m out of Princeton, the sooner I’ll marry Daisy.”

  “You won’t be able to marry her if she’s locked away in a sanitarium,” Aunt Grace threatened. “I have the power to do that.”

  “But you don’t want to,” Nick said. “It’s taken me a while to figure that out. It’s a hollow threat.”

  “Perhaps it was before,” Grace said. “But you’re forcing me to consider it seriously.”

  Nick shook his head. “The only way you can do it is by telling Marcus everything,” he said. “And that would include the fact that Daisy and I were going to elope today. See my suitcase, all nicely packed. We had our bus picked out, our plans all made. You don’t want Marcus to know that. You don’t want him to think you incompetent. You have your pride too, Miss Winslow.”

  Aunt Grace stared at Nick. “I am never going to like you,” she declared.

  Nick smiled back at her. “Nor I you,” he said.

  “But I love both of you,” Meg said. “Aunt Grace, I know, deep down, that you’ve only been doing what you think is best for me. It’s not always easy to love people. I believe that both of you love me. That gives me a few rights.”

  “Rights?” Aunt Grace said.

  “Yes, rights,” Meg said. “Like the right to tell the truth. Nicky and I were going to elope today, Aunt Grace. I’d already met him. We came back here because he changed his mind. He didn’t want us to get married behind your back. He wanted us to be aboveboard about it. I was the one pushing for the elopement. If I’d had my way, you never would have seen me again.”

  “Am I supposed to be grateful to Mr. Sebastian, then?” Aunt Grace asked.

  “Yes,” Meg replied. “You are.”

  Aunt Grace laughed.

  “I don’t expect your gratitude,” Nick said. “Daisy doesn’t either, not really. But we’d both appreciate a little understanding on your part. If Daisy feels you love her, then I’m willing to concede that you do. And if you do, then you want what’s best for her.”

  “Which hardly includes you,” Aunt Grace declared.

  “You may be right about that,” Nick said. “I admit I’m being selfish. But so are you.”

  “How?” Aunt Grace asked. “I have made innumerable sacrifices for that girl.”

  “I have too,” Nick said. “She’s worth them, don’t you think?”

  For one blessed moment, Aunt Grace was silent. She looked first at Meg, then at Nick. “How much?” she asked. “What’s your price?”

  “Let Daisy finish her education at Miss Arnold’s,” Nick said. “No more talk about sanitariums, and expensive British reform schools. She has two years to go, let her spend them at the only home she knows.”

  “And what do you give up?” Aunt Grace asked.

  “We won’t get married until I graduate Princeton,” Nick said. “That’s three years from now. You can spend those three years throwing proper suitors Daisy’s way. You can spend them making mischief for me. In the meantime, Daisy will graduate and make her debut. Maybe she’ll fall out of love with me. You can certainly hope so.”

  “There must be no talk of engagement,” Aunt Grace declared. “No rings, no tokens of affection. Margaret must be free to move around in her proper sphere, to meet the right sort of young man.”

  “No engagement,” Nick said. “Not until her debut.”

  “Not until a full year after her debut,” Aunt Grace said. “Any engagement will be contingent upon your graduation from Princeton.”

  “Fair enough,” Nick said.

  “And you are not to see each other again until Margaret turns eighteen,” Aunt Grace said.

  “Aunt Grace!” Meg cried.

  “I am being very generous to you, Margaret. Consider the alternatives to two years at Miss Arnold’s.”

  “She’s right,” Nick said. “No matter what they do to you, we won’t be able to see each other. At least at Miss Arnold’s, you’ll be less unhappy.”

  Meg stared out at the ocean. To love a liar meant to be a liar. “All right,” she said. “But you have to let us write letters.”

  “No letters,” Aunt Grace said. “No phone calls or secret messages either.”

  Meg shook her head. “No letters, no deal,” she said. “I’ll run away if I have to. And I’ll tell the newspapers everything. How you kept me locked up, and threatened to put me away in a sanitarium, just because I loved an impoverished college student. You’ll love that, Aunt Grace, the reporters hanging around, demanding to see where I was held prisoner. I can play pathetic heiress if I have to.”

  “You may write letters,” Aunt Grace said. “Judging from the letters I’ve received from you, Margaret, their tedious nature should put a swift end to your relationship. And I doubt Mr. Sebastian’s grunts of passion will maintain their appeal on paper.”

  Meg smiled. Her triumphs over Aunt Grace had been few. That made this one even sweeter.

  “I have one final condition, however,” Aunt Grace said. “Should the three years pass, and the two of you wed anyway, you are both to know that I will cut Margaret out of my will completely.”

  “So what?” Nick asked.

  “So she will be a pauper,” Aunt Grace said. “All she will have is the interest she receives from her trust fund, which currently comes to less than four thousand a year. My estate is worth millions. That is what Margaret will be giving up in exchange for you, Mr. Sebastian. That is what you’ll be losing if you marry her instead of some nouveau riche creature whose family will be charmed by your smile and your lies. And don’t expect my heart to soften as years go by. There will be no change in my will.”

  “I’d never expect your heart to soften,” Nick said. “And frankly, I wouldn’t want any of your money anyway. The older I get, the more distasteful I find handouts. But if it’s important to Daisy, then she can dump me.”

  Meg laughed.

  “Then that’s settled,” Nick said. “We don’t see each other for two years, no engagement or marriage f
or three. Daisy gets to finish school at Miss Arnold’s, and you can’t threaten to send her someplace else. She makes her debut, dates as many fellows as you can round up for her. We don’t speak to each other on the phone, but we do get to write letters. At the end of all of which, when we marry, she’s out of your will. I assume she was never in Marcus’s.”

  “You assume correctly,” Aunt Grace replied. “If I find that you have violated any of the terms of this agreement, then Margaret will be sent to St. Bartholomew’s.”

  “No,” Nick said. “No more threats like that hanging over her head.”

  “Then I’ll see to it that you’re expelled from Princeton,” Aunt Grace declared. “Is that acceptable?”

  Nick nodded.

  “Very well,” Aunt Grace said. “The agreement is effective immediately. Come, Margaret, back to the house. Mr. Sebastian, I suggest that you take your suitcase and leave Eastgate immediately. If I find out that you and Margaret have seen each other again before the summer ends, then I will be forced to send Margaret away, someplace you won’t be able to find her. And that is not a hollow threat.”

  “You have to let us say good-bye,” Meg said. “We aren’t going to see each other again for two years, you can at least give us five minutes.”

  “I don’t have to do anything,” Aunt Grace said. “But I suppose five minutes is a small price to pay to keep you from sulking all summer. I shall be standing right outside the gazebo. When the five minutes are up, I’ll let you know.” She got up, stared at Nick and Meg, then left them alone.

  “Five minutes,” Meg said. “Two years.”

  Nick shook his head. “Come here,” he said, and Meg did. They held each other for a long moment, then kissed for an even longer one. “This is the right thing,” he said. “It’s worth losing this summer to keep you from harm.”

  “I’ll write to you every day,” Meg said.

  “You’d better not,” Nick replied. “She’ll change the rules on us if you push her too hard. A letter a week, and if she makes noises, we’ll cut down.”

  “I love you,” Meg said. “I love you so much.”

  Nick nodded. “I love you too,” he said. “We are so lucky. I can’t get over it, how lucky we are.”

  “I don’t feel lucky,” Meg said.

  “Oh Daisy,” Nick said, and he kissed her again. “It’s just three years. The same three years we’d agreed on ourselves. And this way, at least we have letters, and the promise of what’s to come.”

  “I won’t be able to live without seeing you,” Meg said. “Not for two years.”

  “We’ll see each other,” Nick whispered. “Somehow, somewhere. She won’t know.”

  Meg smiled at him. “I love you, Nicky,” she said. “Now and forever. I’ll love you until the day we die.”

  Nick put his fingers on her mouth to shush her. “Don’t say that,” he murmured. “There’s no need to. Don’t you know? We’re never going to die.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Evvie said. “It’s probably Sam.”

  And it was. “Twin delivery,” he said, wheeling the babies in. “Where do you want them?”

  “The floor will do,” Evvie replied. Sam unstrapped the babies, and soon they were crawling in opposite directions. Rob paddled his way toward the kitchen, while Mickey began tugging at Claire’s calf. Claire laughed, and picked him up.

  “A real ladies’ man, I see,” she said. “You know, he looks like Nicky.”

  “Megs thinks so,” Evvie said.

  Thea scooped Rob up off the floor. “He looks healthy enough,” she admitted. “Although I still say you weaned them too soon.”

  “Not again,” Sybil said. “I can’t take another breastfeeding war.”

  “Where’s Megs?” Sam asked. “I’d have thought she’d be down here visiting with you.”

  “She’s in the attic,” Evvie replied. “Reading Nicky’s old love letters, I think.”

  “She’s sorting things out,” Thea said. “She wanted some time alone before the wedding tomorrow.”

  “She’d better hurry, then,” Sam said. “Clark called me right before I left. He’s planning to pick Megs up at six.”

  “When’s Duncan getting there?” Claire asked as Mickey contentedly yanked at her hair.

  “Closer to seven,” Sam said. “He wanted to finish everything at the office, so he could go on his honeymoon with a clear conscience.”

  Claire laughed. “Not the sort of thing Nicky ever worried about,” she said.

  “I wonder how Megs is going to like being married to a doctor,” Thea said. “It’s going to be so different from what she’s used to.”

  “Duncan’s a good man,” Sam declared. “And he’s crazy about Megs. I think they’ll be very happy together.”

  “Sam’s such a romantic,” Evvie said.

  “I’m predisposed to like doctors,” Sam replied. “My grandfather was one. My sister-in-law is one. Besides, if Megs marries Duncan, it means she won’t marry Clark. Which cuts down considerably on the amount of time I’d have to spend with Schyler.”

  “What if I marry Schyler?” Claire asked. “There’s more than one way to get him into the family.”

  “He already is in our family,” Sybil said. “He’s our half cousin, remember.”

  “He’s a half-wit, you mean,” Sam said.

  Evvie laughed. “Sam hates people who are twenty times better-looking than he is. Fortunately for me, I’m only ten times.”

  “Clark’s going to be here in half an hour,” Thea said. “Don’t you think we should make Megs get a move on? She’ll need a shower after all that time in the attic.”

  “I’ll go,” Claire said. “Here, Sam, take your firstborn.” She handed Mickey over to him.

  “I’ll go with you,” Sybil declared.

  “Are you sure?” Claire asked.

  Sybil nodded. “I can manage the stairs,” she replied. She grabbed her cane, and walked out of the parlor with Claire.

  Thea shook her head. “I wouldn’t have dared ask,” she said. “Sybil bites my head off if I mention her legs.”

  “She’s that way with us too,” Evvie said. “Claire’s the only one who can really talk to her.”

  “It works out well,” Sam said. “Sybil’s the only one who can really talk to Claire.” He frowned. “Do you think Claire’s serious about marrying Schyler?” he asked.

  Evvie laughed. “Just tell Claire it’s what Nicky would have wanted,” she said. “That’ll stop her cold.”

  “Is this what Nicky would have wanted?” Thea asked. “Megs remarrying?”

  “I think so,” Sam said. “I really think he would have been happy. He spent a lot of his life looking out for Megs. He wouldn’t have wanted her to be unprotected.”

  Evvie smiled. “I love you,” she said to her husband. “Come on, let’s change the babies before Clark gets here.”

  “I’ll help,” Thea said. “I am a professional, you know.”

  Claire and Sybil climbed the back staircase, which led to the attic door.

  When Claire opened the door and looked up, they could see Megs was propped against an old chair, letters in her hand. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing deep, but the expression on her face was peaceful, and she was smiling.

  Claire stared at the furniture and the boxes and the dust. “What a dump,” she whispered. “Should I go up there to wake her?”

  Sybil shook her head. “Leave her alone,” she said. “She only looks that way when she’s dreaming of Nicky.”

  About the Author

  Susan Beth Pfeffer wrote her first novel, Just Morgan, during her last semester at New York University. Since then, she has written over seventy novels for children and young adults, including Kid Power, Fantasy Summer, Starring Peter and Leigh, and The Friendship Pact, as well as the series Sebastian Sisters and Make Me a Star. Pfeffer’s books have won ten statewide young reader awards and the Buxtehude Bulle Award.

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bsp; All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1990 by Susan Beth Pfeffer

  Cover design by Mimi Bark

  ISBN: 978-1-4532-0219-7

  This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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