Web of Dreams

by V. C. Andrews

  She unwrapped it quickly.

  "I just love gifts, love surprises, no matter how

  much they cost. Tony's like that, too. He wants to give

  me something new and beautiful every day of our

  lives together," she squealed. Because of my promises

  I tried as hard s I could not to harden myself against

  her newfound happiness. She looked down at the

  hand-painted scarf. "Oh, this is great, Leigh. How

  clever of you to pick it out. It will go with so many of

  my outfits. I'm sorry I wasn't there with you, but I will

  make it up to you in a thousand ways. You'll see." "I bought Daddy a hand-carved cane," I said

  softly.

  "That's nice." She went into her bathroom to run her water. I stood there for a moment listening to

  her hum to herself and then left.

  Daddy arrived shortly before dinner. Momma

  was still in her suite talking to her friends on the

  telephone and doing her nails and hair. I still hadn't

  had an opportunity to tell her about the Spenser sisters

  and Fulton and Raymond, but I expected to tell her

  everything at dinner. Suddenly, I heard the front door

  open and heard Clarence say, "Hello, Mr.

  VanVoreen."

  Daddy! I thought and jumped up. He was

  already in his office, gathering some papers. " Daddy!"

  "Hello Leigh. All settled back, are you?" "Yes. Momma's here. She's upstairs." "I see." He went back to his papers quickly. "Are you staying here for a while?" I felt so

  sorry for him. He looked tired and worn, older than

  ever, and I kept thinking how much worse it would be

  for him once he learned about Momma's love for

  Tony Tatterton. Maybe he still held on to some hope,

  like I had, even though she had gotten the divorce. "No, Leigh. I've got to get back to the office

  and prepare for my next journey."

  "But where will you sleep tonight?"

  "I have rooms at the Hilton. You must not

  worry about me. I want you to take good care of

  yourself and . . ." His eyes rose as if he could see

  through the ceiling into Momma's suite. "And your

  mother." He went back to his papers, sorted through

  folders, opened file cabinet drawers, and began to fill

  a briefcase.

  I sat on the leather settee watching him, and I

  felt terrible. I felt as though I were betraying him by

  not telling him what I knew about Momma and Tony. I felt split in half. If I smiled at Momma or felt

  good with her, I couldn't help feeling guilty, feeling

  that I was hurting Daddy; and the same was true if I

  smiled at him and felt good with him. Momma would

  hate me. She would certainly hate me if I told him any

  of her secrets. What was Ito do?

  Daddy saw the troubled look on my face. "Now, now," he said. "You must not do this to

  yourself. I told you, once we're through the storm, it

  will be clear sailing again. Button up against the wind.

  Be hearty. You've been around sailors and seamen too

  long to be anything else."

  "I'll try, Daddy."

  "That's my girl. Well," he said looking about, "I

  guess I have what I need for now." He closed his briefcase. My heart began to pound. I didn't think I had the strength in my legs to stand up. He started around his desk and then stopped abruptly, the expression on his face changing quickly from a soft, loving one, to a look of firmness, even anger. I spun

  around. Momma was standing in the doorway. "Hello, Cleave," she said.

  "I've just come by to get some of my papers." "I'm glad you did," she said. "There are some

  matters to discuss. I was going to leave them for later,

  but perhaps this is as good a time as ever."

  "Yes," he said.

  "Leigh, would you excuse us for a while,

  please," Momma said and then smiled coldly. I looked

  at Daddy. He nodded and suddenly my legs that had

  felt like two overcooked pieces of spaghetti found

  their firmness again and I got up and rushed out of the

  office. I turned back to see Momma close the door. I wanted to go back and put my ear to it, but I

  was afraid they would find me there.

  It seemed like hours, but finally Momma came

  in to get me. I looked behind her, anticipating Daddy

  too. Maybe, somehow they had worked out their

  differences and they were going to give our family

  another chance. Maybe Daddy had said some magical things and they had both thought about their early days together when they were so much in love. I

  waited for the words; I prayed for them.

  "I bet you're famished," Momma said. "I know

  I am."

  "Is Daddy going to eat with us?" I asked

  hopefully.

  "No, it's just like old times," she said dryly.

  "He's off to his shipyards."

  "Off? Did he leave?" 1 cried. Oh, surely, he

  didn't leave without saying goodbye, without giving

  me a last kiss.

  "Yes, he's gone. Let's go to dinner." She turned

  away.

  But he can't be gone, my brain screamed. Not

  without saying goodbye. I hurried out behind her, but

  instead of going straight to the dining room, I went to

  his office.

  The door was closed and when I opened it, I

  looked into a dark room. Momma waited in the

  hallway. I spun around, the tears streaming down my

  face.

  "Where is he?"

  "I told you, Leigh. He left."

  "But he didn't . . he didn't kiss me goodbye," I

  bawled.

  "He wasn't in the mood to kiss anyone. Now

  please, honey. Pull yourself together. Go wash your

  face. Freshen up. We don't want to show the servants

  we're unhappy, do we? After you have something in

  your stomach, you will feel a lot better anyway. I'm

  sure."

  "I'm not hungry," I cried. I ran to the staircase.

  "Leigh!"

  I didn't turn back. I couldn't, II ran up the stairs

  and into my room. I rushed to my window to look out

  in hopes of catching sight of Daddy leaving the house,

  but the street below was empty, the street lights

  casting long, dark and lonely shadows over the

  sidewalks.

  I clenched my hands into fists to grind away my

  eyes and then I looked about my room. I looked at all

  the things I had that reminded me of Daddy, looked at

  his picture, looked at the models of ships. It was over.

  This life I had known had passed on into that empty

  night below.

  Daddy had a saying when he met someone new,

  especially someone he liked.

  "Let's not be like two ships passing in the night.

  Call again. Stop by."

  Oh Daddy, I thought, will we now become like

  two ships passing in the night?

  One day slipped into another. I returned to

  school and described my Jamaican trip to all my

  girlfriends. Everyone was interested in my stories

  about Fulton and Raymond, and a week after I had

  returned home, I received a nice letter from Raymond.

  I brought it with me to school to show my friends,

  especially the ones who had looked skeptical when I

  had told them about the two older boys who said I

  could pass for a high school girl.
<
br />   Most of Raymond's letter was about his work at

  school, but he did say how much he had enjoyed

  spending time with me, and at the end, he signed it,

  "Fondly, Raymond."

  Toward the end of the first week, Daddy called

  to tell me about his plans for his next voyage. There

  was a lot of noise around him in his office, and even

  though it was a short talk, we were interrupted several

  times. He said he would try to write or call as soon as

  he reached the Canary Islands. Oh, how I missed him

  and how I tried not to hate Momma for driving him

  out of my life.

  A few nights later, Momma came into my room

  to announce that we were going to go to Farthinggale

  Manor for Thanksgiving dinner.

  "It's going to be the most magnificent

  Thanksgiving dinner we ever had. Many of Tony's

  wealthy friends will be there and he's even invited

  Patrick and Clarissa Darrow, the publishers of my

  illustrations, and of course, Elizabeth Deveroe, the

  decorator, and her husband, so there will be people we

  already know. Isn't that nice?"

  "But we've always had Thanksgiving here,

  Momma." It hadn't occurred to me until just this

  moment that Daddy wouldn't be home and with us for

  Thanksgiving. It would be the first time, for no matter

  where his business took him or what he had to do, he

  always managed to be home for Thanksgiving. "I know, but I want to be with Tony and he has

  a large affair every year. We'll have pheasant, instead

  of turkey, and champagne, and desserts beyond

  imagination. You remember how well his chef

  cooks."

  "But it won't be Thanksgiving without a

  turkey."

  "Oh, there will be so many other delectable

  things, you'll never miss it. I know what we'll do," she

  continued, "we'll buy new dresses, just for the

  occasion."

  "But I haven't worn many of the things you

  bought me for my birthday yet."

  "This is different," she said turning slowly and

  thinking. "We need to stand out . . . Get your coat,"

  she said suddenly, her face lit with excitement. "We're

  going to Andre's Boutique and pick out something

  original for both of us."

  "But Momma . . ." I knew that dresses and

  gowns at Andre's began somewhere around eight

  hundred dollars and went as high as ten thousand.

  "Can we afford it now that Daddy's . . . Daddy's not

  here?"

  "Of course, we can. Your father is still

  responsible for all our expenses," she replied firmly.

  "Until I remarry. Then, he's just responsible for yours,

  not that you will need to worry. Tony is very

  generous. Come on," she said beckoning. "Let's get

  started."

  Momma bought a black velvet dress with

  spaghetti straps and a wide charcoal silk belt. She

  wore black satin elbow-length gloves. She put on her

  biggest diamond necklace and matching pear-shaped

  diamond earrings.

  For me she bought a beautiful aqua-colored

  dress in an airy fabric. I never felt so dressed up for a

  Thanksgiving dinner.

  Tony sent Miles in his limousine to pick us up

  early in the afternoon, but he had to sit in the hallway

  and wait for at least an additional forty-five minutes

  for Momma to finish with her hair and makeup.

  Finally, wearing her sable fur piece, she came down

  the stairs. Never had her hair looked as soft or

  gleamed as brightly. I saw by the way Miles rose from

  his seat that he was stunned by her beauty. I thought

  she looked just like a movie star.

  How I wished Daddy could be here to see her, I

  thought, but then I thought that would only bring him

  more pain because she was so beautiful and she was

  gone from his life.

  "How do I look?" she asked me and spun

  around.

  "Prettier than anyone."

  "Oh honey, thank you. And you look beautiful

  too. We're going to dazzle everyone," she added, and

  we went out to the limousine.

  During the trip to Farthy, she told me about

  some of Tony's friends she had met. Everyone seemed

  to be known by what business or profession he was in. "And wait until you see their wives," she said.

  "With all their wealth and position, they don't know very much about fashion and makeup. You and I will stand out like, . . like roses in a bed of weeds." She

  grabbed and hugged me. As sad as 1 felt going to a -Thanksgiving dinner without Daddy, I couldn't help but be fascinated by the way Momma spoke to me. She was acting more like my older sister than my Mother. I felt, perhaps for the first time in my life, that she was treating me like her closest friend.

  "Now don't be nervous just because these people have so much money. You will see they aren't so clever when it comes to socializing. When they ask you a question, answer politely, but don't offer more information than they request. Men appreciate women who are not talkative and gossipy around the dinner table. Men like to dominate the conversations with their talk of politics and business."

  "But Daddy was never like that." Poor Daddy, I thought, with no family around him, out on the ocean on one of his ships, having a Thanksgiving dinner with strangers.

  "Don't look so sad," Momma advised. "You are so pretty when you smile."

  Mrs. Deveroe and her husband and the Darrows were already there when we arrived. Everyone said Momma and I looked like sisters. The men made me feel very grown up with their compliments and approving eyes, and Mamma entered the great house as if she were the queen arriving. There were servants everywhere, just waiting to do her bidding--take her and my coats, show us into the music room where the others were already gathered, and get us some champagne punch.

  "Jillian! You're finally here," Tony cried coming quickly to greet us at the entryway to the music room. He took her hand into his and gazed into her eyes, his blue eyes burning with love and appreciation. "You are undoubtedly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I don't think I'll ever tire of saying it." I had thought all morning about how much I hated Tony but now a warm, electric feeling shot through my body. I had never been so close to anything so romantic. It was as if I had stepped into a movie, and I couldn't take my eyes off the two of them. No one in the room could. There was a great pause, as though we were all sighing, and then everyone burst out into conversation. Tony turned his heavenly blue eyes to me.

  "And Leigh, you look very beautiful too. I'm so lucky to have both of you here. Farthinggale Manor will sparkle as it never has." He scooped our arms into his, placing himself between us, but I stood as stiffly as I could, touched him as little as possible, hoping to hurt him as he introduced us to everyone.

  Little Troy sat in a huge cushioned easy chair in the corner, his feet dangling over the edge. He looked lost and alone, but so cute in his tiny tuxedo and black tie. As soon as he saw me, his eyes lit up.

  "Hi, Troy. Happy Thanksgiving." I shook his little hand.

  "Hi. Tony says you're going to come here to live and be my big sister now. Are you? Are you really?" I had to smile at his enthusiasm, even though the words he spoke were still so alien and so frightening to me.

  "Yes, it looks that way, Troy."

  "Good. I have so many things to show you, secret things," he added in a whisper, his eyes turning to be sure no one overheard.

  When the time .eh, ea for all of us
to go into the great dining room and around the long table, Troy and I indeed sat beside each other. Momma sat on Tony's right and I sat on his left with Troy on my left. There were thirty-three people for dinner. I had never seen so many people at a dining room table.

  At the center was a great chopped liver swan. There were large goblets for wine and settings of Wedgwood china with little figures and country scenes on them. The silver was heavy, but sparkling bright with floral designs. The heavy blue napkins had an embroidered F. M. done in white thread.

  After a while Momma began to announce her plans for her and Tony's wedding.

  "It will be like a royal coronation," she said and followed it with a trail of laughter. But then she elaborated. "The invitation will become a collector's item, for I am designing it myself, based upon one of the illustrations I've done for Darrow Publishing," she added and nodded toward the Darrows.

  "We're going to have a twenty-six-piece orchestra and flowers flown in from South America and Tony has come up with a wonderful added touch. Tell them, Tony."

  "Well, you're ruining the surprise," he said gently and smiled. "But I suppose it's all right since these are special friends tonight. I'm having a commemorative Tatterton Toy created for each and every guest. It has the date of our wedding carved into it."

  "It's a wonderful idea." Momma beamed. "Two figures modeled after us . . ." She reached for the hand of her handsome young husband-to-be. ". . dancing on the top of the world."

  Everyone "oohed" their appreciation. Even I had been taken by surprise, hearing it for the first time. Tony tried to catch my eye with his own intense ones, but I looked away. How easily Momma had captured the whole table's attention, I thought. They all looked envious--men, envious of Tony's having her as his wife; women, envious of Momma's beauty and exuberance.

  These plans for the wedding did sound exciting and glamorous, but even now, even at this

  Thanksgiving dinner table at Farthy that seemed so far away from our intimate family Thanksgivings of the past, I couldn't help but feel alone and lost.

  Plans and details of the wedding dominated the conversation for the rest of the dinner. Little Troy got a faceful of whipped cream when he dipped into the chocolate cream pie. I laughed and wiped his mouth.

  After dinner everyone returned to the music room. Troy asked me to go to his playroom to help him color his drawings. When we got there and I saw that he had created the pictures himself, I stared in amazement. He was remarkably talented for a small child. There were pictures of the great house and the grounds and some pictures of grounds people.

  "This is Henderson and this is Margaret Stone and this is Edgar." He pointed at his different drawings.