“What cousins? We don’t have cousins in California.” The only cousin he had was Penny.
“We do now. I got busy on the Internet one night. I was trying to find relatives of my father’s. I tried some different combinations, and I got lucky on the second shot. I found his older brother and my father’s nephew. His father denied it at first, because of the disgrace at the time, and he was trying to protect his brother. And then his son called me back when he realized that Tommy’s brother had lied about it. And now I’m going out there to meet them.” She sounded like a kid at Christmas.
“Are they good people?” Phillip was worried – he didn’t want anyone being unkind to her. He thought she was being a little naïve, particularly if her father’s brother had initially been dishonest and hostile.
“They seem like it. Tom, my cousin, is an architect married to a very nice woman. I talked to her – she’s an interior designer. They have four grown kids. They live in Santa Barbara, and they have grandchildren. Tom’s sixty-five, and she’s a few years younger. Walter, my father’s brother, is ninety-four, and apparently very frail.” She knew all about them, and until now he had heard nothing about it.
“Well, you’ve certainly been busy. Do you need me to come with you?” He had plans that weekend, but would have gone with her if she’d asked. He didn’t love the idea of her facing these people alone, but she had no qualms about it.
“Of course not. I’ll be fine, but thanks for asking. I’m just staying the weekend. I have a busy week next week with a board meeting at the Met.”
“Well, call me from out there. Where are you staying?”
“At the Biltmore.” She made it sound like an adventure, and Phillip was smiling to himself when he hung up.
He told Jane about it at dinner that night. It was their second date. He had taken her to dinner and a movie the week before, and it had gone well. And they were planning to spend the day together on his boat that weekend. Jane was looking forward to it.
She was touched when she heard about Valerie’s plans to fly to California to meet her father’s relatives. It seemed very brave of her, and she said as much to Phillip.
“This seems to mean a lot to her. I think she felt like such an outsider growing up, and so disapproved of, that she’s hungry now to meet the relatives she never knew she had, if that makes sense.”
“It does. But knowing what we do now, about her background, it must have been so hard for her as a kid.”
“I don’t think it was easy. She’s very different from her sister, and the grandparents who pretended to be her parents. She’s a much warmer person. Her mother must have been more like her. It’s a shame she never knew her,” he said sympathetically.
And then he added, “I’d like you to meet my mother sometime.” Jane looked pleased by the suggestion.
“I have to meet Sweet Sallie first,” she said, referring to his boat, and Phillip grinned.
“You have to be aware that she will always be my first love. She’s been the woman in my life till now.”
“Believe me, I get it. My father would give up our whole family to keep his boat. You don’t try to come between a man and his sailboat.”
“Then everything should be just fine,” he said, pleased.
They’d had a nice time so far going out to dinner, and he’d gotten a glimpse of her small, cheerful apartment when he picked her up for their second date. She had made magic with the things she’d bought at IKEA, and had turned it into a cozy home, and she’d only been there a short time. It was the kind of thing his mother would have done.
They talked a little over dinner about the DNA results they were waiting for. The order to exhume Marguerite’s body and perform the DNA test had been approved and signed by the judge the week before, and they had another five weeks to wait for the results, but there seemed to be no doubt in anyone’s mind now what they would be. It was clear from everything Fiona had told her that Marguerite was her mother. And Jane commented that she would have left the surrogate’s court by the time the results came in. She had to attend two more months of classes, and then she was due to graduate from law school in June.
“And what are you going to do after you graduate?” he asked her over dinner.
“Pass the bar, and get a job at a law firm.” She had résumés out at several top firms, but hadn’t heard anything conclusive yet. And she would have to focus on review for the bar exam soon. “And I want to go home to Michigan for a couple of weeks to see my parents before I start work.” It sounded reasonable to him.
The time he spent with her sped by, as they talked about a variety of subjects, and got to know each other better. He had never met a woman as easy to be with. Everything felt simple and natural when he was with her. And he had a feeling that his mother was going to like her too.
The real test came when he drove her to Long Island that weekend. He picked her up at her apartment at nine in the morning, and was relieved to see that she was wearing jeans, a warm jacket, and sneakers. The last girl he had invited to the boat had showed up wearing a miniskirt and high heels. And he was even more impressed when she helped him with the sails, and slipping the moorings. Her father had taught her well, and she knew exactly what to do. He had brought a picnic lunch for them, and he threw the anchor in a small cove where there was shelter, bright sun, and a gentle breeze.
“This is perfect,” she said, smiling at him, obviously enjoying the day as much as he was. There was something about being on a sailboat that allowed you to forget all your worries, and just enjoy the wind and the sea.
They stretched out on the deck in the sun afterward. It was still too cold to go swimming, and as she lay there with her eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun, he leaned over and kissed her, and she slipped her arms around his neck and smiled at him. Neither of them said a word but just enjoyed the moment, and then he rolled over on his side next to her and propped himself up on one elbow.
“How did I get so lucky?” he said happily. “I thought I was just going to do some boring appraisal, and instead I found you.” Phillip felt like it was meant to be. She felt the same way about him. And she was well aware that she could have still been miserable with John if she hadn’t had the guts to leave him. She was glad now that she had, and hadn’t let it drag on till June.
“You just like me because I’m a halfway decent sailor,” she teased him, and he grinned.
“Yeah, that too. I like you because you’re smart and kind and a good person, not to mention beautiful.” He kissed her again then, and he lay holding her for a long time, but they went no further. They both knew it was too soon, and didn’t want to rush things. They wanted to savor the beginning, and see where it went. There was no hurry. And a little while later, they set sail again, and enjoyed the afternoon on Sweet Sallie. They were tired and relaxed when they finally sailed back toward the dock, and she helped him tie the boat up, and they walked to his car hand in hand.
“Thank you for such a nice day,” she said, and he could see that she meant it. It had been a perfect day for both of them.
They cooked dinner together at her apartment that night, and watched a movie. They sat close to each other, and he kissed her. It was after midnight when he left, promising to call her the next day. She had already agreed to go back to the boat with him the next weekend. She was beginning to look like the perfect woman to him.
Chapter 18
BEFORE VALERIE LEFT for California for the weekend, she called Winnie to tell her she was going out of town. She always tried to check in with her, in case Winnie needed anything. Valerie liked to let her know her plans, and then she could call Penny, or someone else, like her housekeeper, if she needed help with anything.
“Where are you going?” Winnie asked her, sounding suspicious.
“To California,” Valerie said vaguely. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell her who she was visiting, or why.
“What are you doing there?”
“I’m going t
o Santa Barbara, to see friends.”
“That’s an awfully long way to go for the weekend.” Winnie hated going anywhere, and said she liked sleeping in her own bed. She had never been very adventuresome, even when she was young. “What friends do you have in Santa Barbara?” She couldn’t recall Valerie ever mentioning them, and of course she was right. She looked years older than Valerie, and acted it, but her memory was still acute.
Valerie decided then that there was no escaping it, and told her who she was going to see.
“You found them on the Internet? Are you crazy? What if they’re ax murderers or awful people?”
“Then I won’t see them again. I’m staying at a hotel, the Biltmore, if you want to reach me. And they might have the same concerns about me. They don’t know me from Adam. I called them out of the blue with my story. They were extremely nice about it. I just want to meet them, and see how it feels.” She was acquiring new relatives and a whole new life.
“Why do you need them now, at your age? What difference will it make?” She was finding the whole thing unsettling, first Valerie’s horrifying discoveries about Marguerite, and then her insistence on the DNA test. It had been her own daughter’s idea, and Winnie wasn’t pleased about that either. And now she was going to meet her alleged father’s family, who might turn out to be dreadful people. Why couldn’t she just let the dead rest? It was all so upsetting.
“I’m not sure,” Valerie answered her honestly. “I just feel it’s something I have to do. That boy was my father, and this is his family. I want to meet them, and see if I feel any kind of connection to them. I never felt any with the people I thought were my parents, and were my grandparents.”
“And you think you’ll feel connected to an uncle and a cousin you’ve never met? What could you possibly have in common with them?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I want to find out.” She was on a mission, and the trip was a pilgrimage of sorts, to honor the past. She hadn’t told Winnie about her mother’s letters. She felt tender and protective of them, and Winnie always had something negative to say about everything. But the Babcock connection seemed less private to her, and she was willing to share that.
“You might not have felt any connection to your biological father either. They were just kids.” But the Babcocks were her family, whatever Winnie thought. “Be careful, Valerie. Take care of yourself.”
“I will. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” Winnie grumbled a grudging good-bye. And Valerie left for the airport a few minutes later. She felt carefree and young, about to discover another part of her life, her history, and herself. And nothing about it felt wrong, despite Winnie’s misgivings. She never trusted anyone or anything, which was part of her negative view of life, just like her mother’s. They were so much alike, and more and more with time. Winnie had turned into her mother as she aged. Valerie couldn’t imagine anything worse.
The plane landed in Los Angeles on time, and she rented a car at the airport, for the two-hour drive to Santa Barbara. She was going to check in to the hotel first and call them. Angie and Tom had invited her to dinner. She was slightly nervous about meeting them as she drove north, but mostly excited about the discoveries they would make.
It was late afternoon by the time Valerie got to the Biltmore and checked in. She took a walk for a few minutes, through the Coral Casino, the swim club that was across the street from the hotel and owned by them. And then she went back to her room and called Tom to tell him she had arrived. He asked how the trip was, and she said it was fine, and she thought he sounded nervous too. This was emotional for all of them, especially his father, who had said he wouldn’t meet her and would stay in his room when she came to the house. Tom wasn’t going to force him to see Valerie, but he told his father he thought he was wrong.
“I’m not going to meet that girl’s illegitimate baby. Why should I?”
“Because she’s your brother’s daughter, and your niece,” Tom said again, but his father just turned stone-faced and looked away.
Tom had offered to pick her up at the hotel, but Valerie insisted she could drive herself to their home, and she headed toward Montecito at six o’clock, and followed the directions he had given her to their house. When she got there, she saw that it was a big sprawling Spanish-style home with a wide circular driveway perched high on a hill, with a beautiful view. The house was substantial, and the grounds extensive, perfectly manicured and well designed, and there was a large swimming pool and tennis courts off to the side. She walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell, and a moment later the door opened and Angie appeared. She was an attractive blonde with a wide smile, and right behind her a tall man appeared, who looked like a teddy bear, and the only trait they seemed to have in common was the same snow-white hair. Without hesitating, Tom gave her a warm hug, and Angie kissed her hello. Valerie had worn a pale blue cashmere sweater and gray slacks and was carrying a blazer in the cool air, and wondered if she was too informal. Angie was wearing a dress and high heels, and Tom was wearing a shirt and tie and a suit in her honor. But the atmosphere in the house was informal, and they walked her through the beautifully decorated home to a patio with heaters outside, where they could enjoy the view.
Angie told her they had bought and remodeled the house when the children were young, and it was a little too big for them now, but they loved it. And they had good living quarters for Tom’s father, who was with them now. He had been living with them since Tom’s mother died ten years before. But Valerie saw no sign of Walter, as they drank white wine and got to know each other. They seemed like warm, kind people and made her feel at home. And she was surprised by how at ease she was with them, as though they had known each other all their lives. They were that sort of people, with an easy California style, but Valerie felt something more.
The conversation turned toward her being an artist, and Tom surprised her by saying her father had been a talented artist too, and that Walter had many of his drawings, and some of his paintings. It explained where her own talent had come from, since no one else in her family had had any interest in art. It was one of the things that had drawn her to her husband when they met.
They chatted for an hour before dinner, and then went inside. Angie had organized a beautiful table and meal, and the housekeeper had stayed to serve it. Valerie noticed that the dining room table had been set for three, and remembered that Tom had said his father went to bed early since he was so old. And Tom excused himself before dinner to go and check on him.
He found his father in his bedroom in his wheelchair, looking out the window and scowling.
“Are you going to come and meet her, Dad? She’s a lovely woman.”
“No, I’m not.”
“She’s older than I am. She’s not some kid, or some hippie. You at least owe her that.”
“I don’t owe her a damn thing,” he growled, and spun around to turn his back on his son, who quietly left the room. It was like dealing with a child. He had never seen his father behave like this and didn’t like it. And he knew that Valerie would be disappointed not to meet him, after coming this far.
Instead, as he walked back to the dining room, Tom picked up some framed photographs on the way, then showed them to Valerie. They were photographs of her father, as a boy and in his teens. There was one of him at the age he must have been when he was in love with her mother, and another of him in uniform right before he left New York for the West Coast. And she was struck immediately by the resemblance, not only to her but to her son. Valerie looked far more like him than any of the Pearsons. And he was a very handsome young man. Tom was watching her intently as she looked at the photographs and then back at him.
“You look a lot like your father,” he said softly as they sat down to dinner. Valerie nodded, thinking how remarkable it was that she had found them. She could have called all the wrong Thomas Babcocks, but she hadn’t. She had honed in on the right one, on the second try. And now she was here.
“Does y
our father look like him too?” she asked, curious about him.
“Not really. He looks more like me, although he’s smaller now than he was. He’s lost a lot of weight.” She nodded, wondering when she would meet Walter and how that would feel.
They talked about a variety of subjects during dinner – music, art, theater. Angie said they went to L.A. often for cultural events, but they liked living in Montecito, and having more space and better weather, and Tom’s architectural practice had always been there. Tom said the children had loved growing up in Santa Barbara, and only one had moved to L.A. They talked about their children, and Valerie showed them a photograph of Phillip. Tom commented on how much he looked like his grandfather too. The Babcock genes had been strong in both Valerie and her son. And Angie proudly showed her photographs of their grandchildren, whom she adored.
Valerie asked if they ever came to New York, and they said not often enough, but they were busy with work and their kids. And they didn’t like leaving Tom’s father for long periods of time. They were obviously dedicated to their family, and responsible people. And Tom smiled at her at the end of dinner.
“I never had a sister, and I have no cousins. I like having a cousin now. I wish you’d found us sooner,” he said warmly.
“So do I,” she said, and meant it. “I didn’t even know you existed, or about any of this until very recently. It all came as a surprise, not to say a shock.” She laughed. “But in a funny way, it’s a relief. I never fit in to the family I grew up in, and I always felt they resented me and disapproved of me, and I didn’t know why. Now I know. It wasn’t really about me, it was their disapproval of the circumstances of my birth, not something I’d done wrong, which was how I felt. I don’t think my mother ever got over it. It takes a lot to banish your own child and declare her dead. It broke my mother’s heart, never seeing me again. Our nanny used to send her photographs of me, which was how I made the connection when I saw them.”
Property of a Noblewoman Page 20
