DeBeers 04 Into the Woods

by V. C. Andrews

  I felt the blood rush into my face after hearing such a compliment.

  "Let that be our little secret, though," he added with a wink.

  After he left I thought, he'll ever be as much to me as Daddywas, but at least I had someone who cared. I should be more grateful. and I told myself I shouldn't condemn him for trying so hard to please Mommy.

  Mommy planned the party for the weekend after the coming one. I did nothing more to oppose it Her new Palm Beach friends, two of whom were sisters married to brothers. the Carriage sisters, became her chief advisors an how to plan and conduct a party in Palm Beach. Their names were Thelma and Brenda. and I found the three of them with their heads together almost every afternoon before the party. They went through the guest list as if they were screening for possible terrorists. I couldn't help but listen in. The Carriage sisters seemed to know everyone's personal life, who wasn't getting along with whom, who was about to get divorced, whose husband or wife was having an affair and with whom. Mommy seemed to enjoy this part more than anything.

  Meanwhile Winston was true to his promise and planned our first sailing lesson on Saturday,

  "This is a perfect little boat to learn on." he began after we walked down to the dock. "It's a twelve-foot, gaff-rigged wooden sailboat. You've got to learn the jargon if you want to be a sea-farin' lass." he added in a Scottish accent. "So when you're at the club havin'a bloody Mary, you can gab with the best of 'em. Gaff-rigged is a cutter with one mast." he continued, back in his own voice. The mainsail has a spar below the sail called a boom and above the sail called the Gaff. Well, let's go." He laughed at -my serious expression. "Don't just stand on the dock thinking so hard about it. Get in the boat."

  I did quickly.

  "Sailing is almost like flying, Grace. I prefer it to motorboats. actually. You feel more like a magician, transferring the power of the wind into power for the boat."

  I loved his enthusiasm. It made me even more excited about learning.

  "Okay, to continue. We can have more than one sail going. The jib is the headsail."

  He explained the riggings and showed me the running rigging which was used to manipulate the sails. The hoisting lines he called the halyards.

  "I think I should have brought a notebook," I said. He was rattling it all off so quickly.

  "Don't worry. You'll remember it all. It will become second nature to you, Grace. There's nothing like becoming one with the wind."

  Winston explained how it was impossible to sail directly into the wind and because of that we had to compromise by zigzagging the boat windward. He called it making a series of tacks. On each tack we steered the boat into the wind as much as possible without flapping the sails. When we had that going, he called it being close-hauled,

  "Changing tack is called coming about. As you can see we're doing it often before we find our way wind-ward."

  He made a sweeping turn to start us in the opposite direction, "Sailing before the wind is called running," he said. "and now we'll let the sails out as far as possible. You'll see that the mast fun is what we call reaching or sailing across the wind. If you have anyone in the boat with you. Grace, you have to warn him or her by calling 'Ready about' before tackng. Then push the tiller leeward, which is away from the wind, which will cause the bow to go in the opposite direction into the wind and keep your boat turning like this until the wind is on the other side. See:" he cried as the sail swung across the boat and the wind filled it again.

  The sea spray spattered my face. I screamed with pleasure, and he laughed.

  "Okay, when the wind is blowing over us starboard, the right side, we are on the starboard tack. When the wind blows over the port, the left side, we're on the port tack. gat it?"

  "I think so," I said.

  "As you perform everything I've explained I want you to talk it aloud, tell me what I told you."

  He lowered the sail and brought us to a stop. Fortunately, the ocean was calm. Even so. I knew now what sea legs were as he and I changed position.

  "Hoist your sail, mate," he cried, and I began, doing exactly as he had instructed.

  I almost turned us over a few times. but I couldn't remember having a day of more fun. Winston was patient with me. too. He never yelled. Whenever I made a mistake he took his time explaining why and showing me how to avoid it.

  I had no idea how long we were out until he looked at his watch and told me.

  "Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

  I was, but I hated the idea of stopping.

  "I'll tell you what." he said. "Let's keep going south. I know a good little restaurant where we can dock."

  And that was just what we did. I couldn't stop talking about my lessons. I didn't even remember what I had eaten, and all the time Winston sat there smiling at me and laughing.

  "You make me feel like I'm twenty again," he said.

  He let me do most of the sailing all the way back to Joya del Mar,

  "When can we do it again?"' I asked the moment we docked.

  "We can do it every weekend I'm here, as long as the weather permits. It's very important to learn about weather if you really want to be a sailor. Grace, and the tides. That will be lesson two. okay?"

  "Yes." I said.

  "Where have you two been?" Mommy asked as soon as we entered the main house.

  "Grace's sailing lesson. I told you about it yesterday," he replied.

  "But I thought that would be no more than an hour or so. It's almost five. Winston. You missed the Hobsons. I told you they were stopping by for cocktails this afternoon."

  "Oh. I must have forgotten." he said.

  Mommy looked at me, at my windblown hair, and at the wild joy in my eyes, but she didn't seem to be happy about it. "You know you've gotten too much sun on your face. Go look at yourself. You're going to need some medicated creams for sure."

  It was wonderful. I don't care."

  "Fine. Suffer. I'm going up to prepare for dinner. Winston. I hope you didn't forget we're going to the Breakers tonight."

  "No, no," he said, but when he looked at me I could see he had forgotten. "I'll be right along."

  Mommy shook her head and charged toward the stairway.

  "I think I created a monster," Winston muttered, and then quickly smiled. He wanted me to think he was kidding. but I didn't, not for a second.

  The following Saturday Mommy absolutely forbid Winston and me to go sailing. She said there were just too many things left to do for the party and I needed to rest and be a good hostess. Instead I went up to my room and sulked. We couldn't go sailing the day after, either. because Winston and Mommy had to attend a charity luncheon. She was insisting I go with them. too.

  "You have to mix more with people and let more people get to know you. Grace. Whether you like it or not, we are now important people in this community," she told me.

  I didn't want us to be important people in any community. If it weren't for how wonderful Winston was to me. I would have wished she and he had never met and we were still living in the small condo. It got so I couldn't wait to see him after school, to talk to him, to do things with him, to learn from him. Mommy was right about one thing: Winston was a man of the world, sophisticated, and very selfconfident.

  One afternoon just before dinner I referred to him as Daddy Winston. and Mommy's mouth gaped. I didn't plan to say it: it just came out in reference.

  "Daddy Winston? You make him sound like Daddy Warbucks." she finally commented.

  "Maybe he is," I replied. I certainly felt like Orphan Annie a good deal of the time,

  She grimaced every time I said it, but after a while she stopped and even referred to him as Daddy Winston herself on occasion.

  There was never any doubt in my mind that he was her Daddy Warbucks.

  Whether she had said anything to him about it or not I wasn't sure, but one night at dinner he put down his knife and fork and looked at me with a smile on his face.

  "What?" I asked.

  "I have a requ
est to make of you," he said. "I have my lawyer working on it so it will be fast."

  "What?" I asked again, looking at Mommy, who did seem confused herself, and then back at him.

  "I'd like to adopt you officially. Grace. I'd like you to be Grace Montgomery," he said.

  Mommy gasped and then, almost immediately, started to cry softly. I looked at him, my breath catching. I would be giving up Daddy's name, I thought.

  Winston anticipated. "just call yourself Grace Houston Montgomery from now on," he said, shrugging as if it was nothing. It would make me a happy man. Grace." he added.

  Mommy stared at me. I could see it in her eyes. This was very important to her as well,

  "Okay," I said in a small voice, and that was that. I had put a piece of my heart away forever.

  .

  The day before my party those who were invited did go out of their way to speak to me at school. but I didn't feel any of them was sincere about it. What they did want to know was exactly who besides them was invited and what sort of music we would have. A few asked about the food, wanting to know who was catering it. I wanted to shock them and say, "No one, My mother's making everything." The truth was. I didn't know whom Mommy had as a caterer. I didn't even know what the menu was, and the only reason I knew we had a four-piece band was they had come over one day to see about how they would set up out at the pool and I had met them. I did remember they were called the Renners after their lead singer and his English wife. Bill and Diane Renner. Denise Havington said she had them at her Sweet Sixteen party and they were great because they got everyone up and dancing. It seemed to raise my popularity quotient a few centimeters. but I sensed it might last only until the party.

  I was half tempted to invite Basil. He knew about the party because for that week at least, it was one of the topics of conversation flawing through the high school, Actually I felt sorry for him, but when I brought it up with Mommy, she almost burst a blood vessel.

  "If the other mothers even heard you were considering such a thing, they wouldn't let their daughters and sans come. Don't you dare." she warned. I had to promise I wouldn't, but that didn't mean she would believe me.

  Naturally she took me to buy a new dress just for the party. Someone. I suspected Thelma Carriage, had told her about a new designer who was becoming the rage in Palm Beach as well as in Europe, and she looked for one of his creations. The dress had a price tag close to three thousand dollars. I almost couldn't move when she ordered me to try it on.

  "Stop giving me those big eyes of yours. Grace. This is similar to a coming-out party for a debutante, and those sorts of occasions arc very big and important here. It's not unusual to be a little extravagant,"

  "A little?"

  "Just try on the dress," she snapped.

  Mommy was determined to belong, determined to become accepted and part of this world, and if she had to she would drag me into it crying and screaming. I did what she asked. The boutique had a tailor there instantly to discuss the adjustments.

  From there we went to the beauty salon, and Dawn Meadows, who had become Mommy's personal beautician, set out to give me a striking new hairstyle. I complained she was cutting my hair too short. but Mommy stood right beside her agreeing with every snip and disregarding my protests as if I "as nothing more than a manikin. What I thought at the end was that I had been made to look like most of the other girls in our new world. Slowly, inch by inch. I was losing myself. My identity was sinking into the mirror, and what replaced it could be found on almost every page of the Edith Johnson Wood School yearbook.

  As soon as we were finished at the beauty parlor. Mommy insisted I go with her to her cosmetic shop. All these boutiques, shops, and stares had suddenly become "hers." It was the way all the women she now had as acquaintances spoke about places in Palm Beach and elsewhere. Their patronage and the special attention it brought them qualified a place to be "theirs." It gave the impression everyone else who frequented it was simply tolerated or being done a favor.

  At the cosmetic shop I was taken through a series of lessons about makeup, what shades complemented my complexion the best, and what creams I just had to have to prepare my skin before and after. Once again, whatever objections I had were totally disregarded. I was even unsure I had spoken. Maybe I am a manikin now, I thought, and while they discussed my face I daydreamed about Palm Beach. Going over the Flagler Bridge was like passing through some magic door. On the other side, like same of the characters in The Wizard of Oz, I turned into a life-size doll. I moved like a doll, had this habitual happy smile on my face, and when squeezed said things like. "How tickytacky."

  If Mommy noticed even an iota of displeasure in my face afterward she quickly put it out of mind or buried it in her catalogue of "things left to do." Back at Jaya del Mar she behaved like a little general, whipping orders at our house servants, rearranging furniture, calling every purveyor and supplier of our party things to repeat her demands and confirm her orders.

  I tried to withdraw from it all, but the day before the party Mommy called me to the sitting roam where she and the Carriage sisters held their strategy meetings. I was to be given my orders and

  responsibilities, told how to behave at my party and what guests would expect of me."You have to greet each and every one of them personally as soon as they've entered." Mommy began, obviously parroting what she had been told,

  "You should remain in one place during the early hours of your party so you can easily be located," Thelma added. "Extend your hand, and say something like. 'Welcome to my home. Please enjoy yourself.'"

  "I have to ask them to enjoy themselves?"

  "It's just a manner of speaking," Thelma replied dryly. No one takes it literally."

  "Then why say it? Why not say things people will take literally?"

  She looked at Mommy.

  "It's etiquette. Grace. Just do it."

  "Mingle after the party is under way. One of the most discourteous things a host can do is single out one or two of her guests and ignore all the others," Thelma continued.

  "I was told some people here throw parties and don't even show up themselves." I said.

  "Who told you such a thing?" Brenda asked, looking more curious than upset.

  "Someone at school."

  "Well, that has happened, but it's certainly not the rule of behavior for a young girl to follow." Thelma said.

  "She's probably referring to Pokey Astor's yacht party last month." Brenda said.

  Thelma gave her a very hard look, and she recoiled.

  "Be sure you are also around to bid your guests good night and thank them for attending your party," Thelma added.

  "It sounds like I should plant myself at the door and remain there all night."

  "Of course not. You don't stand by the door. That's for your butler.'

  "Thelma and Brenda are just trying to help make your party a success. Grace. You should be more grateful." Mommy chastised.

  I smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Carriage and Mrs. Carriage," I said, turning to Brenda. "I will write everything down and memorize it." I gave them a small curtsey and left.

  Afterward Mommy told me I had been rude,

  "I'm warning you, Grace," she said. "If you don't help me make this a successful event..."

  "You'll stop buying me expensive clothes and won't take me to your personal beautician anymore?'

  Her eyes filled with tears. and I immediately regretted my tone.

  "I'm sorry," I said "I'm just..."

  "You're just nervous. I know. I am, too. but I'm covering it up by being busy. Don't worry, honey, we'll show them," she said.

  That was it, I thought, She felt obligated to prove herself here. and I was just a handy device for the moment. I sighed to myself and thought maybe I should consider her feelings more, She was the one who was under pressure, and she had as much as confessed she had taken this path for our benefit, making whatever personal sacrifices were necessary.

  "Okay, Mommy," I said "We'll show
them." "That's my Sailor Girl," she cried, and hugged me.

  Afterward I cried softly and then went to bed and pursued sleep as an escape.

  .

  Winston's surprise touch for the party was having spotlights. When he brought Mommy and me out to see them slicing the darkness Mommy nearly jumped out of her shoes with delight. My heart thumped with embarrassment. Who was I supposed to be? What was this supposed to be? A movie premiere?

  Winston saw the worry in my face and quickly whispered, "I did it for your mother. It's nothing. Don't give it a second thought. It's not that uncommon at galas here."

  The parade of Rolls-Royces, Mercedes-Benzes, Jaguars, and Lexuses followed soon afterward. I watched the first dozen or so glide up our driveway, a number of them chauffeur-driven. The Carriage sisters and their husbands had arrived earlier and

  accompanied Mommy on her inspection of the tables, the food, and the decorations. At the center table was a nearly six-foot ice sculpture of a swan. The band began to play, and the party atmosphere was thrown over the property like a bright, sparkling tablecloth. Champagne bottles were popped open, and, like windup toys, the waiters and waitresses spread out over the grounds, carrying their trays of hors d'oeuvres and glasses of what Palm Beach socialites called shampoo. What champagne had to do with washing one's hair escaped me. Maybe some of these people did use it in the shower.

  The girls from my school were dressed as formally as I was, if not mare. Mother and daughter ware almost as much jewelry. That was something Mommy immediately moaned about.

  "I should have given you more of my jewelry to wear," she practically wailed. You look

  underdressed."

  "I don't feel underdressed," I said, holding my plastic smile. I did as the Carriage sisters prompted, greeted each of my guests and repeated the same inane hope that they would enjoy themselves.

  Later I felt I was back at school. The girls gathered as if they had magnets in their dresses and behaved as if I wasn't even present. The music continued, but no one stepped onto the dance floor. Winston hurried over to me and asked me to dance.

  "Come along," he said, taking my hand, "we'll show them a step or two."