And she had married him because Gil Warren was already taken.
Therein lay the greatest source of her guilt. In her heart of hearts Cassie knew that she had done Henry a disservice. Her only recourse was to try to give him what he wanted.
What Henry wanted, first and foremost it happened, was a child. He was proud as punch when, two months after their marriage, Cassie learned she was pregnant.
Cassie wasn’t quite as delighted. Yes, she eventually wanted children, but she had done her best—without Henry knowing—to postpone that event. But her precautions had failed her. And to make matters worse, Lenore had learned the month before that she was expecting her fourth child, which meant that Cassie’s pregnancy couldn’t have come at a less opportune time. Lenore did little enough around the house under normal conditions; pregnant, she would do nothing at all. It would be up to Cassie to take over completely. She would have welcomed that idea had it not been for the fear that she would be more limited herself when she reached the advanced stages of pregnancy.
For several months Cassie said nothing to the Warrens. She managed to will away morning sickness and fatigue and worked all the harder in an attempt to prove herself indispensable. To her knowledge Gil hadn’t found the land he sought, which was a mixed blessing. On the one hand Cassie wasn’t sure she could handle a move and the added work it would entail at this stage, while on the other she feared that the Brookline house would be uncomfortably small once a nurse and a supplemental housekeeper were hired to serve the family’s needs while she was indisposed.
Henry was a comfort. He pampered her when she wasn’t working, and constantly urged her to slow down. Although he’d have preferred to immediately tell the Warrens of Cassie’s pregnancy, he acceded to her wishes on that score.
Most of all, however, Cassie found comfort in the knowledge that her husband was working for the Warrens—especially during times of trepidation when she wondered if, after her baby was born, the Warrens would decide that having a housekeeper with an infant wasn’t such a good idea after all. She knew she could do the job, infant and all, yet it was nice to know that Henry would be representing their interests during the brief time of her lying-in.
By October of that year she could no longer hide her pregnancy. Again, as seemed only natural, she approached Gil, though this time far more apologetically than she had the February before.
She should have known that Gil wouldn’t be daunted. Nothing discouraged the man, it seemed, least of all the basis for Cassie’s worry. He was thrilled for her, even took her in his arms and gave her a hug. Then—to Cassie’s astonishment—he spread his palm over her slightly rounded stomach.
“I should have seen it,” he said with wonder, looking at the gentle mound his hand shaped. “How could I have missed it?” He raised his gaze to meet hers. “You’ll make a beautiful mother, Cassie.” His eyes dropped to her breasts, then rose once more. “A beautiful mother with a beautiful baby. How lucky Henry is.”
She was touched, and excited, and embarrassed. “You’ll have another child of your own by the time mine arrives,” she said in a breathless voice. “And I do apologize. I was looking forward to helping Mrs. Warren with the new baby, but I’m afraid my timing was off. It’s just that Henry wants a child badly, but I’m sure he’ll work doubly hard during the week or two that I won’t be able to—”
“Cassie,” Gil chided with exquisite gentleness, “you are not to worry about that. We’ve monopolized your life for the past two years. You’ve earned the time off. I don’t believe you’ve taken a fraction of your vacation time in all these months.”
“But I enjoy working here. There’s nowhere I want to go, no one I want to see. You’re the only family I have.”
His voice was very quiet, his eyes locked with hers. “You have Henry. And a baby on the way.”
“But it’s not the same. You all are … I don’t think I could ever have as much on my own.”
“You won’t have to,” he whispered, stroking her cheek ever so lightly. “You have us. Nothing will ever change that.”
Her breath was caught in her throat, and it was a long minute before she could push it forth into speech. “I’ll do my best. I promise you I will. Baby or no, I’ll see that everything stays as it is.”
He smiled then, and her heart turned over. “I’m sure you will, Cassie Morell.”
She nodded and took a small step back, but before she realized what he was up to, Gil leaned forward to brush a kiss on her forehead. Heart pounding, she looked up at him in surprise.
“Congratulations, little mother,” he whispered so tenderly that she turned and fled to hide the tears in her eyes.
For days to come Cassie repeatedly replayed in her mind that conversation and its accompanying gestures. She told herself that Gil was simply a warmhearted man, that he was affectionate and physical by nature. Yet she didn’t see him touching his wife as he had touched her. Nor, even, did he touch his children that way. He seemed always to be breezing from one place to the next with less and less time for his family.
If for personal reasons Cassie wished it differently, she understood the man perhaps better than his own wife did. He was touching bases, solidifying his support for the reelection campaign he would be waging the following year. He had apparently told no one of the possibility of his leaving the district, and if his running for office was vaguely deceitful, Cassie saw it for the shrewd political move it was. Far better, she knew, that Gil should win a second election—she had no doubt that he would—and then, when and if he moved, serve out his term as the law allowed, than to yield the limelight to someone else for a precious two years. Public exposure was critical, and public exposure was exactly what Gil received as a vocal member of the legislature.
She noted many new faces at the series of dinner parties the Warrens threw in the closing months of 1949, and she assumed that they were potential supporters from the outlying suburbs of Boston. Whether Lenore was aware of the reason for these newcomers’ presence, Cassie couldn’t say. She did know that Lenore wasn’t happy about the parties themselves. She saw how the woman drew into herself both before and after each affair. In a sense she couldn’t blame her. Lenore had been physically uncomfortable since early fall. She had had hip pains, back pains and swollen ankles, none of which were helped by long evenings of circulating among dinner guests. Still, stylish maternity gown and all, she was a gracious hostess. For that Cassie admired her.
Jack and Natalie Whyte were in attendance at nearly every party. Indeed, they threw several of their own, on which occasions Cassie and Henry lent a hand to Jonathan and Sarah McNee at the Whyte home. Henry, in particular, enjoyed the McNees. While Cassie didn’t mix as readily, she always had an open ear to what they had to say.
It seemed, said Sarah, that Mr. Whyte had just acquired his fourth hotel. Fourth! Then the first three had to be doing well, Henry observed, to which Jonathan responded with a shrug and the explanation that Mr. Whyte had a group of investors behind him, and that though one of them had recently dropped out in anger at what he considered to be inequitable returns, there were many more waiting to replace him.
Sarah remarked that the missus had grilled her husband about that one dissenter, and Sarah herself suspected that there might, in fact, be some truth to the rumor that the investment scheme Jack Whyte had put together was decidedly one-sided. Jonathan pointed out that the arm of the law hadn’t settled on Mr. Whyte’s shoulder yet. When Henry wondered if it was simply a matter of time before that happened, Jonathan quickly informed him that Mr. Whyte had gone through a flurry of sessions with his own lawyers and that steps had been taken to prevent any trouble.
Cassie was disturbed by what she heard since she knew that Jack Whyte had donated a large sum of money to Gil’s campaign. She was also disturbed because she respected Natalie Whyte and knew that if Natalie was worried there was just cause. Still, the Whyte Lines continued to grow by leaps and bounds if the reports in the newspaper were correct; Cas
sie assumed that Jack had to be doing something right.
Of course, she strongly suspected that that something right was limited to the business sphere. If the tiny bits of conversation she caught when Natalie was at the house visiting Lenore were correct, Jack was about as attentive a husband and father as Gil was.
Cassie had to be grateful. For whatever else Henry might lack he was attentive, so much so that there were times when Cassie had to bite her tongue when she thought she would scream. Her temper saw uncharacteristic bouts of shortness as the first of the year rolled around. She was feeling rather like a blimp, and there seemed to be more than ever to be done between the house and the children. Laura and Ben were in school—though Ben for only half a day—and Cassie thoroughly enjoyed little Peter, who prized the time when the others were out to monopolize her attention. But there was refereeing to be done in the afternoons, homework to supervise at night, and baths and bedtime stories, so that when she finally returned to the garage apartment she was exhausted and often out of sorts.
At the end of January Lenore gave birth to a girl. Gil, who had made no secret of wanting another boy, took the disappointment in stride by flying off to Atlanta to visit Jack’s newest hotel. Lenore seemed just as happy to have her husband gone, for it meant that she could lie in bed for hours without feeling guilty, which, in turn, meant that the other three children were left solely in Cassie’s care—which would have been nothing new had it not been for Cassie’s own condition.
The baby, Deborah, was tended by the nurse Gil had hired in advance. Cassie stole into the nursery whenever she could to hold the child herself, but those times were infrequent, given the other demands on her, including the added one of training a girl to fill in for her when she gave birth to her own child.
Unfortunately, the new girl, Mary, was unaccustomed to a busy household like the Warrens. With unswerving perception the children sensed her bewilderment and took advantage of it, casting Cassie in the role of patron saint of new housekeepers in addition to her other chores.
It was a relief, in more ways than one, when, three weeks after Deborah was born, Cassie overcame arduous labor to give birth to a son. She named him Kenneth, in part because she liked the name, in part because no one in her own family had had it. She was well aware of the custom where she had come from of naming a child after a deceased relative and she was determined to avoid it.
Despite her misgivings about having a child so soon, she adored Kenneth from the start. Henry doted on him, and she encouraged him to take part in the baby’s care since she knew she would need his help when she resumed her household duties. But she cherished the times when she nursed the child, quietly and alone, for it was then that she could close her eyes and forget she was married to Henry, pretend she was married to Gil and dream that her son would have the very same advantages that every other Warren child had.
That dream received a boost toward fulfillment when Gil insisted that a second crib be set up in the nursery so that Kenny could spend his days there when Cassie returned to work. Cassie was wary at first, convinced that Lenore would object to the scheme. But Lenore, who hadn’t been able to shut out the turmoil that had prevailed in the house during Cassie’s ten-day absence, would have done just about anything—short of caring for Kenny herself—to get Cassie back in charge.
Over the next few months things did, indeed, settle down. Cassie regimented herself to allow time to spend with Kenny, though Henry took sole command in the evening hours when she was still at the house. Mary, the interim maid, had left for calmer waters, but the nurse stayed on in Cassie’s old room. Kenny and Deborah both thrived; the other children had little trouble adjusting to their presence in the house, since, thanks to the nurse, Cassie had as much time as ever to spend with them. Lenore regained the slender figure she prided herself on, and, for the first time in Cassie’s memory, seemed to find enjoyment in the older children.
The blooming of spring brought with it Natalie and her three sons, who spent many an afternoon playing in the Warrens’ tree-shaded yard with Laura, Ben and Peter. Cassie grew fond of Nick and Mark, clearly seeing that Nick was the organizer and Mark the innovator, and appreciating each for his strength. The chubby three-year-old, Jordan, however, stole her heart, because while he was every bit as adventurous as the others—as a group, the six fed off each other, rendering the level of mischief greater than ever—he had a gentle streak that appealed to her. She assumed that it had to have come from Natalie, though she wasn’t sure, since her own contact with Jack had been minimal.
Natalie’s contact with Jack was minimal, too, if the number of days she and the children remained at the Warrens through dinnertime was any indication. Eavesdropping on Lenore and Natalie, Cassie learned that Jack had turned his sights on the electronics business, with an eye, in particular, toward cashing in on the advent of television. He was building a plant in Waltham to produce a line of radios and televisions, which, if successful, would grow with the field.
Gil, it seemed, was investing heavily in the project, and Lenore was predictably nervous. “Where does he get the money?” she asked Natalie in bewilderment.
Natalie had no more idea of that than she did of where Jack got his. Investors, he always told her, but she wondered. “From his practice?” she asked with a shrug.
“A lawyer doesn’t make that much, and what he makes as a legislator is peanuts. He must be borrowing it, and if there’s any chance that the project should fail.…”
“It won’t fail, Lenore. Jack has a keen sense for what the public wants. My only concern is how much more of his time this new project will take. We see him so infrequently as it is. I’m afraid to think what will happen when he adds yet another weight to his shoulders. I mean, we do live well. I love the fact that I can go into Jay’s and buy a hat without looking at the price tag, but if Jack is never around to see me wear it, what good is it?”
Lenore wasn’t in total agreement on that score. She was more relaxed when Gil wasn’t around, and what with his law practice, the sessions in the legislature and the social demands that he had been kind enough to exclude her from while she recovered from Deborah’s birth, his absence was far more the rule than the exception. What she worried about was Gil’s gambling borrowed money on something with no track record at all.
When she broached the subject with Gil, he had little patience. “Come on, Lenore. It’s investments like this one that will make the difference for us. I can do well with my practice, but only to a certain point. If we want to go beyond that,” he lowered his voice accusingly, “and I thought we both did, it will take a little work on the outside.”
They were in their bedroom. Gil had just returned from a night on the town and was changing his clothes before closing himself in his den to work. Lenore was in bed, where she had been reading a book for several hours. Now the book lay flat on the blanket and her hands were tightly clenched in her lap.
“But are you taking too much of a risk?”
“On an electronics plant? Hell, no.” He tore off his dress shirt and tossed it on a nearby chair, then went to work at the fastening of his pants. “I would have invested in one sooner had the right situation presented itself. Jack’s company is very definitely the right situation. You don’t think Natalie is worried, do you?”
“No.…”
“Well, then?” His pants went the way of the shirt and he turned, wearing only his undershirt and snorts, to take casual clothes from the closet.
Lenore studied his physique. “I’m not Natalie. I just … worry.”
“Have I let you down yet? Have I ever done anything that’s backfired?”
“No.” Strange, she mused, how even undressed Gil looked totally invulnerable. He was so hard, arrogant, inflexible.
“You were worried about my taking in a first associate, then a second, but both have been good moves. My gross intake has tripled in as many years, and it’s me,” he thumbed his chest, “who reaps the bulk of the benefits.” He thrust
his arms into a sweater and quickly tugged it over his head.
“What about when Robert and Jay want to be made partners?”
“They’ll be made partners when I’m good and ready. And when that time comes it will be on my terms.”
“And if they object to your terms?”
His speech was barely broken as he smoothly stepped into a pair of trousers. “There are many other lawyers who’d give their right arm to work under me. Neither Robert nor Jay is irreplaceable.”
If his view was a callous one Lenore was simply relieved that he intended to hold the reins. Unaware of that relief, Gil was egged on by her lack of comment.
“You were worried about my running for public office, but it’s turned out just fine, hasn’t it?” Almost angrily, he fastened his pants.
“But now we have to go through the whole thing again—the campaigning and the waiting and the worrying—”
“You’re the only one who worries,” he declared, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. “I love the campaigning, and the waiting is simply a fact of life. It wouldn’t be so bad if you could just relax and accept that I’ll win.”
“You’re always so sure of yourself.”
“That’s how I got where I am today.” He leaned over the footboard of the bed and propped both fists on the folded spread. “A man is only as good as the way he sees himself. I see myself as a winner. From the day I was fourteen and decided that I had no intention of spending my life painting houses like my father I saw myself as a winner. Because even in that, I was. Simply by deciding to better myself in the world I was a winner.” His eyes narrowed. “Growth, Lenore. That’s what we’re talking here. Growth, financial superiority and power.” He tapped his head with a finger. “And if you don’t have a mind set for those you’re nothing. Is that what you want, Lenore? To be nothing?”
It wasn’t so much what he’d said that struck Lenore, but what he hadn’t said. To be nothing … again? Quickly she shook her head, at which point Gil straightened and took a deep breath.
Twilight Whispers Page 16
