The Sea Star

by Nash, Jean

  Susanna was sorry she had brought up the subject. “She skirts the issue,” she explained unwillingly. “She keeps hinting that my father was at fault, then she conveniently retreats behind a pseudo-saintly reluctance to speak ill of him. As to what she’s been doing for the past eleven years, your guess is as good as mine. She says it’s a period of her life she prefers to forget. I say she’s too ashamed to tell me the truth.”

  “Perhaps,” Jay said carefully, “the truth would be painful to you, and your mother wants to spare you.”

  “If she were concerned about my feelings, she would never have left in the first place.” Susanna’s voice was cold, but her mouth trembled.

  Jay took her hand in his and pressed it gently to his lips. “I’d like to meet her,” he said.

  “Why?” She snatched her hand away. “What possible interest could you have in her?”

  Jay thought for a moment, as if asking himself the same question. Then: “She’s your mother, Susanna. Everything about you is of interest to me.”

  His words lifted her spirits, but it was still against her better judgment that she agreed to a meeting.

  “We’ll have dinner in my suite at the Brighton,” Jay said. “Maybe new surroundings will make her more communicative.”

  “You don’t know my mother,” Susanna said. “A Spanish Inquisitor couldn’t get her to part her lips.”

  “We’ll see,” Jay said. “I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it.”

  The dinner was set for the following week. Susanna wanted Dallas to be there, but he had gone to Brigantine on “business.”

  “What kind of business?” Susanna asked Augusta after receiving this information.

  They were in Augusta’s sitting room. Susanna was sitting stiffly on a petit-point chair, watching her mother at the vanity, brushing her hair. In an ivory peignoir with a frothing of lace, Augusta looked exquisitely beautiful and at least a decade younger than her forty-five years.

  “I don’t know what kind of business,” she said, so innocently that Susanna was certain she was lying. “You know how close-mouthed men can be about their private affairs. Your father never confided in me— Oh, I’m sorry, Susanna. I didn’t mean to say that.”

  But Susanna knew better. Augusta never missed the opportunity to tarnish Matthew’s memory. She decided to ignore it. Quarreling with her mother was like fighting a mist.

  “Then you’ll come to dinner?” she said in as civil a tone as she could muster. “Jay said he’s looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Is he really?” Augusta smiled. “Tell me about him, darling. Dallas said he’s now part owner of the hotel, but I’m interested in more personal details.”

  “What kind of personal details?” Susanna asked suspiciously.

  “Are you in love with him?” Augusta’s tone was warm and maternal, as if she and Susanna had had many an intimate chat over the years.

  Susanna fumed at her presumption. “What right have you to ask such a question?”

  A hurt look crossed Augusta’s face that was gone in an instant. “Susanna, I know you haven’t forgiven me for leaving you, and I don’t want to interfere in your life. But I know Mr. Grainger’s been here for several weeks, and your interest in him seems to me to be more than business-related.”

  A thrill of alarm darted through Susanna. She didn’t want her mother to know about Jay and her. She didn’t want Augusta to know anything at all about her. “You’ve been misinformed,” she said coolly. “Jay and I are business partners, nothing more.”

  Resigned, Augusta sighed. “Very well. You don’t want to confide in me. I can’t say I blame you. But, darling....” She paused, painfully aware of Susanna’s stony resistance. “Be very sure of a man before you give him your heart.”

  She spoke the words fervently, as if she were concerned about her daughter, as if she loved her and feared for her future. Susanna, however, wasn’t fooled for a moment. A woman who callously abandons her family couldn’t possibly be concerned about anyone but herself.

  Jay’s suite at the Brighton Hotel was even more luxurious than Susanna had imagined it would be. His sitting room, where they were to dine, could more appropriately have been called a drawing room.

  From a great marble fireplace, a cedar fire gave warmth and fragrance to the spacious area. A crystal and bronze chandelier shed golden light on delicate eighteenth-century furnishings. About the room, on tabourets and consoles, were vases of fall flowers and fine pieces of porcelain. Susanna was glad she was wearing her most stylish gown, a sinuous draping of seafoam green silk, for when she entered the suite, the look in Jay’s eyes told her how perfectly she suited her surroundings.

  “Susanna, Mrs. Sterling, good evening,” he said, ushering the ladies into the room.

  Augusta, in ecru satin, returned his greeting, then surveyed him in open appraisal. Susanna watched them with a vague foreboding and wished she’d never agreed to this senseless meeting.

  “You look familiar to me,” Jay said to Augusta. “Is it possible we’ve met before?”

  “I rather doubt it,” she said with a fleeting smile. “We hardly travel in the same circles.”

  Redding, Jay’s manservant, took the ladies’ wraps and disappeared into an adjoining room. Jay bade his guests sit, indicating the mauve moiré sofa, then sat opposite them as Redding reappeared with a tray of aperitifs.

  “I hope you both don’t mind,” Jay said, taking a glass after the ladies had been served, “but when Susanna told me that Dallas wasn’t coming, I thought I’d make up the loss with my attorney, Ford Weston.”

  Augusta said graciously, “Of course we don’t mind. It will be twice more pleasant dining with two gentlemen from New York.”

  “Have you ever been to New York, Mrs. Sterling?”

  “When I was a new bride, my husband and I honeymooned there,” Augusta said, “my first and only visit. What an exciting city it is!”

  “Yes, it is exciting.” Jay tasted his wine. “The city is small by any standards, yet it has more to offer than anyplace else in the world. No doubt you attended the Metropolitan Opera while you were there and saw a vaudeville at the Union Square Theatre?”

  “Ah, yes,” Augusta said softly, as if recalling fond memories. “We did all that and more. What a lovely time we had. Honeymoons are such joyous periods. You’ve never been married, have you, Mr. Grainger?”

  Augusta’s unexpected question jolted Susanna, but it didn’t seem to faze Jay, for he said without a moment’s hesitation, “No, Mrs. Sterling, much to my regret.”

  “May I inquire why?”

  “Mother....” Susanna said warningly.

  Jay forestalled her objection. “I spend all my time traveling between my hotels, Mrs. Sterling. It’s not the kind of life that promotes a successful marriage.”

  “But surely you want a wife,” Augusta said, “and heirs to inherit all that you’ve worked so hard to attain?”

  “Mother.”

  “I do indeed,” Jay said readily.

  “A wife who shares your interests,” Augusta said brightly, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “A woman who knows intimately the demands your hotels make on you.”

  “Mother!”

  But Jay was amused. “That’s exactly the kind of woman I want for a wife, Mrs. Sterling.”

  Susanna’s face was hot with anger and mortification. How dare Augusta question Jay like a concerned mother? She had forfeited all maternal rights eleven years ago.

  A knock sounded at the door. Redding admitted a gentleman into the room.

  “Ford!” Jay rose with alacrity to greet his attorney. “You’re late.”

  “Sorry, Jay. I was tied up with the Council and couldn’t get away.”

  “No matter,” Jay said. “Come meet my guests. You know Susanna.” Ford greeted her cordially. “And this is her mother, Augusta Sterling.”

  “Mrs. Sterling.” Ford took her extended hand and made a formal bow. “I’m happy to meet you
.”

  He was an attractive man in his early fifties, of medium height, compactly built, with graying brown hair, a friendly face, and intelligent dark eyes. Augusta gave him a look of pleased surprise which was not lost on her daughter. Perhaps, Susanna reflected, this meeting was not going to be so senseless after all. She looked toward Jay with respectful admiration. He winked at her, then told Redding they were ready for dinner.

  Two hotel waiters, silent and efficient, served the meal. The conversation, led primarily by Jay and entertainingly punctuated by Ford, seemed designed to draw Augusta out. For the most part, Susanna remained silent, watching the others as if they were actors on a stage playing well-rehearsed parts. Jay was charming, Ford was flattering and attentive to Augusta. Augusta was gaily responsive, but her comments revealed nothing of importance. She was as skillful in her role as Jay and Ford were in theirs.

  Over coffee and dessert, Jay said, “I haven’t had Nesselrode pudding this rich since Christmastime at Sherry’s. Have you ever been there, Mrs. Sterling?”

  “Oh, yes! Isn’t it a fine restaurant? One sees so many celebrities there.”

  Jay’s gaze turned fractionally toward Ford, who acknowledged the look with an almost imperceptible dip of his head. Susanna, noting this exchange, looked inquiringly toward Jay, but he was drinking his coffee and watching Augusta over the rim of his cup.

  “Speaking of celebrities,” Ford said, “Lillian Russell is appearing tonight at the Empire Theatre in Princess Nicotine. Would you care to see it, Mrs. Sterling?”

  “I’d love to,” Augusta said. “Susanna, Mr. Grainger, you’ll join us?”

  “You’ll have to excuse us,” Jay said. “Susanna and I have some work to do at the Sea Star.”

  “At this hour?” Augusta eyed him skeptically.

  “Hotel people work twenty-four hours a day,” he said smoothly.

  “Hotel owners,” Augusta said, “make their own hours, Mr. Grainger. If you’re using work as an excuse to be alone with my daughter, you needn’t bother. I have no objections.”

  “Mother!”

  Susanna was furious, but Jay seemed both amused and impressed by Augusta’s perception. “One can’t fool a parent, can one, Mrs. Sterling?”

  Augusta gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “People try, Mr. Grainger, but they seldom succeed.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jay asked Susanna as his coachman turned the horses from Indiana Avenue onto Pacific.

  She’d been tense and abstracted since leaving the Brighton. Now, she stared out the coach window at the modest houses so much in contrast to the huge hotels and noisy attractions that made up the Boardwalk. What would it be like, she wondered, to live in a house, to have a garden of her own and a white picket fence that would keep unwelcome intruders out of her life?

  “Susanna, tell me what’s wrong.” Jay said when she remained silent. “Is it your mother? Does she upset you that much?”

  Still looking out the window, Susanna muttered, “Only when she acts like a mother. I hate when she does that. It’s so patently a sham.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jay said. “Whatever else she may have lied about, I think she’s genuinely concerned for you.”

  “Lied?” She turned to him swiftly, her abstraction replaced by attentive alertness. “Why do you say that? Have you learned something about her? Why didn’t you tell me? Tell me now.”

  Jay smiled and pinched her cheek, amused by the change in her demeanor. “I only learned it at dinner, Susanna. I had no chance to tell you until now.”

  “Well?” she said impatiently.

  “You mother was recently in New York,” he told her. “Why she lied about it—and so clumsily, too—is beyond my comprehension. Your mother is a very clever woman.”

  “But how do you know when she was there?”

  “When was she married?”

  The unexpected question took Susanna aback. She thought for a moment. “In 1872. But what—?”

  “Do you remember your mother saying she’d been to Sherry’s? That can’t be, because Sherry’s only opened this past October. Your mother also said she’d attended the Metropolitan Opera, which didn’t open until the ‘eighties, and that she’d seen the vaudeville at the Union Square, which Keith and Albee started presenting only five or six years ago. It’s almost as if she wanted me to know she was lying.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps to throw me off the scent. Or maybe it’s her subtle way of telling me to mind my own business.”

  “It’s probably both,” Susanna said. “My mother is the mistress of subtlety and evasion.”

  “Well, let’s see what happens tonight. Early in his career, Ford was a state prosecutor who never once lost a case he tried. Your mother was rather taken with him, did you notice?”

  “Yes, I noticed.”

  Susanna looked out the window again, beset by a nameless anxiety. I think your mother is genuinely concerned for you, Jay had said. What if that were true? Was it fair of Susanna to condemn her mother without knowing all the facts? What if Matthew had somehow caused Augusta to leave? What if she had written to her children and Matthew had destroyed the letters? But if that were the case, why didn’t Augusta just say so instead of obscuring the truth in an inscrutable shroud of mystery?

  “Jay, I don’t want to go home,” Susanna said as she sighted the Sea Star in the distance. What she wanted, in fact, was to escape from the confusion of her thoughts.

  “Where do you want to go?” His low voice was gentle. His arm went around her shoulders as if he sensed the thoughts that tormented her.

  She leaned close against him, grateful for the comfort of his presence and understanding. How contrary was Fate to have foisted Augusta upon her and at the same time to have blessed her with Jay’s love.

  “Anywhere.” She nestled snugly against him. “You choose a place. I’m tired of making decisions.”

  “How about the Moorish Palace,” he suggested, “or the Blue Grotto? Or if you’re in the mood to have the wits scared out of you, we could try the London Ghost Show on States Avenue.”

  “No,” she murmured, his nearness arousing in her the most pleasurable sensations. “Let’s go somewhere quiet...private.”

  “Susanna,” he said softly, “are you making an indecent proposal?”

  She felt his lips in her hair. His other arm encircled her, slowly, erotically, like the sensuous spiral of her ardent emotions. He needed only to look at her to start her heart pounding. He needed only to touch her to unfurl the delicate petals of her newly budding passion.

  She reached up to embrace him. Her eager lips sought his. She loved his heady kisses, the firm warmth of his mouth, the mingling of his breath with hers, his strong arms around her pressing her closer, ever closer to his hard provocative body. Was it indecent to want him physically when she loved him so profoundly? No, it was right and proper; it was Nature’s own design. To give herself to the man who ruled her heart was the ultimate expression of sharing and love.

  “I love you so much,” she murmured against his mouth. “Nothing could be wrong between us when I love you so much.”

  Jay lifted his head and looked into her eyes, eyes brimming with love and longing and blind to all else. His expression was troubled, but Susanna took no notice. In the dark depths of his eyes she saw only the brilliant reflection of her own illimitable love.

  The horses drew up in front of the Sea Star.

  “Susanna,” Jay said, releasing her, “we’d better say good night.”

  “But why?” Was it possible he didn’t know what she was offering? “Jay, I don’t want to say good night. I want....” She paused only an instant. “I want to stay with you, to be with you.”

  “I know what you want, Susanna.”

  Now she saw his troubled look, heard an undertone she couldn’t decipher in his low restrained voice. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  He was staring at her silently, his
mouth a stern line. In her virginal innocence, Susanna interpreted his behavior as shock or, perhaps, reproach. Puzzled, she said, “Jay, what’s wrong? I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted me in that way.”

  With a suddenness that took her breath away, he grasped her arms, pulled her against him, then kissed her once, hard and fiercely, on the mouth. “I do want you,” he said roughly. “I could take you right now, right here, not caring if anyone saw us. I want you all the time. I can’t look at you without wanting you.”

  She was thrilled by his ardor, and a little apprehensive of the ferocity he’d never before shown her. “Then why won’t you make love to me?”

  He released her so abruptly that she fell back with a jar against the door. His eyes burned into hers, but it seemed he was looking inward as if searching within himself for the answer.

  “Jay, why?” she insisted, though his dark gaze alarmed her.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I’ve been asking myself that same question for weeks.”

  Eight

  When she gave the matter more thought, Susanna concluded reasonably that Jay cared for her too much to make love to her without the sanction of marriage. She was gratified that he was so concerned for her honor, but she couldn’t help wondering why he never spoke of marriage.

  Not for a moment did she doubt his love for her. Actions speak louder than words, she kept telling herself. His help with the Sea Star, the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, all that and more told her how much he cared for her. Moreover, he had said that he loved her more than she could fathom. What more did she need to convince her?

  After that night, in fact, it seemed he found it more and more difficult to restrain himself from making love to her. If the truth be told, Susanna went out of her way to test the limits of his control. Jay had teased her more than once about being a Siren, and, oddly, she found that she liked the role.

  Whenever they were together, if others were present, she would touch his hand, lightly, nonchalantly, as if giving it no thought. When they were alone together working, she would drift over to the desk and look over his shoulder, leaning provocatively close to him. Jay wouldn’t move, he wouldn’t look up, but his mouth would take on that hard stern line which Susanna had come to recognize for the passionate restraint it was.