Here it comes…..
“Which is why we were so shocked when you abandoned the family business.”
And there it is.
“But,” she sniffed. “That’s all water under the bridge now.”
Easy for you to say. He didn’t take away your trust fund.
She patted the leather of the console between them in the Jaguar. “You seem to have done well for yourself, I must say. This is a beautiful car….”
Wait for it….
“Even though it seems to be an older model.”
And, zing. “Yes, Mother. It’s an ’89. But, Jags never go out of style.” God, I sound just like her.
“I prefer Mercedes,” she commented as they pulled into the circular drive of the mansion. “But, as I said, this is a nice car.”
Wincing to himself, he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not she was referring to his beloved Mercedes that his father had repossessed. Oh, you are good, Mother.
It did please him immensely to hear her shocked intake of breath as she got out of the car and looked at his house. “This…this is where you live?” She turned to him, clearly confused, her mouth open as if to say something else and unable to.
Lance gave her a half smile. “Your mouth is hanging open, Mother. Yes, this is our home.”
Cheeks reddened a little, Amanda turned back to the three-story house. “And you work for…Disneyland.” She sounded incredulous.
He took her by the elbow and steered her toward the stone entryway. “I got a raise.”
The massive oak front door swung open and a small figure flew toward Lance. “Papa! You’re home early! Me and mom are playing scouts like Unka Wolf….” Peter broke off his excited prattle when he saw the stranger with his father. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her.
“Mom and I are playing.” Lance tried correcting his grammar, but seeing Peter’s attention was diverted, knew there was no reason to continue. “Peter, this is your….”
“Lance! You’re home early! You are just in time to rescue me…Oh.” Kimberly came breathlessly to the door, a smile on her pink-cheeked face and her hair half-bound up in some kind of bandana. She, too, came to a halt when she saw Lance was not alone. Her sharp eyes darted from Lance’s angled face to the identical cheekbones on the woman standing next to him. “Hello,” she smiled, holding out her hand. “You must be Lance’s mother. I’m Kimberly. And I think you just met Peter.” She grabbed out with her other hand to haul Peter back to her side. “Peter, say hello to your grandmother, Mrs. Brentwood.”
Amanda admired the sharpness of this beautiful girl, her eyes going over her disheveled appearance. Before she could respond, the disgusted cry of a child broke the air. It was soon followed by the matching cry of another.
Kimberly dropped the hand she was in the midst of shaking. “Oh, the twins! Peter, we left them tied up in the library! Come on.” She rushed back in the house with her son in tow.
As the two disappeared from view, Amanda slowly turned to her son. “Twins tied up in the library? Are you two doing daycare or something to help pay the bills, dear? Perhaps I came at a good time.”
“Babysitting, not daycare, Mother. Alexander and Catie are the children of our friends Adam and Beth Michaels.” He steered her toward the library, shutting the front door firmly behind him. “They took an anniversary trip to the Hotel Del Coronado in San Diego and asked if we could watch the twins for them.”
Amanda’s eyes never stopped moving as she was being lead. Impressed by the warm, rich décor, she barely heard his words. “Indeed.”
The library was a welcoming room with floor-to-ceiling hardwood bookcases lining three of the walls. The tall windows were closed off to the darkness outside by antique navy blue velvet drapes, a tasseled, thick gold cord scalloped over the valance. The dark walnut desk was cluttered with the usual paraphernalia of children at play. Sitting back to back on the Kashmiri carpet, were two identical brown-headed moppets, angrily complaining about being ignored and forgotten. Three years of age, they were uninterested in the stranger who entered the room as they were both clamoring for Kimberly’s attention.
“Now, Alex, you know you could have pulled off the scarves yourself. They were just for show,” she crooned as she pulled him into her lap.
“But, you ‘n Peter were ‘posed to rescue us! Catie was lost in the forest just like Uncle Wolf taught us. She was real scared.” Contrary to his words, a laughing Catie went running out of the room to follow the departing Peter.
“I’m sorry, Alex.” He received a hug as she smiled over at Lance. “We’ll have to finish our game tomorrow. We have company now.” Her words had an uncertain edge to them as she indicated Amanda who still standing just inside the doorway. “And it is your bedtime.”
“Aww, five more minutes?” Ignoring the older woman, Alex had to try as he looked at the door through which the other two had escaped.
Kimberly exchanged a quick look with Lance. He gave a slight indication with his head. “Come on, sweetie, I’ll take you all up to bed.” She grabbed Alex’s hand and led him out.
The sound of whooping and hollering deep in the house stilled and was replaced by three complaining voices going up the stairway.
As the noise faded, Amanda turned back to Lance as a smile inched across her face. “Never dull, are they?”
That wasn’t what he had expected. “No, it’s never dull around here,” he admitted with a large grin. “Come into the family room. We’ll be more comfortable there.” He took her elbow to lead Amanda to another part of the house.
As they settled across from each other on matching brocade sofas, Peter came running back down the stairs. “I wanted to say good night.” He hurled himself into his father’s arms and then settled beside Lance on the sofa. It was apparent he had no intention of going back upstairs.
Knowing the tricks, Lance allowed it for a moment. “Peter, you were never properly introduced to your grandmother.” He was faintly surprised when Peter got off the sofa and went over and extended his hand to Amanda.
“Wíyuškiŋyaŋ waŋčhíŋyaŋke ló”
Amanda’s mouth opened to speak again, but froze in place. “I beg your pardon?” She looked to Lance for explanation.
Lance looked rather proud of his son at that moment—even though he had no idea what the boy had just said. But, anything that made his mother speechless was fine with him. “In English, son.”
Without missing a beat, Peter replied, “Pleased to meet you. May I call you Granny?”
Ignoring Lance’s stifled laugh, she sniffed, “I’d prefer you didn’t. How about Grandmother?”
Peter screwed his handsome little face up as he thought. Amanda’s hand unconsciously went to her heart. He looks just like Lance did at that age.
“Gramma?” he tried to barter.
Amanda sat back on the sofa and laughed a deep, honest laugh. She impulsively held out her arms to hug the boy. Smiling, he crushed himself into her Chanel suit. “Oh, Lance, he’s a pip.”
Warmed by the affection she was showing his son, Lance relaxed his instincts. “Yes, he certainly is. His Uncle Wolf is teaching him some phrases in Lakota, his native American tongue.”
The old Amanda surfaced. “For whatever reason? I should think French would be more productive.”
Lance merely shrugged. “It’s good to know another language. Peter soaks it up like a sponge.”
Sensing a change in the mood of the room, Peter slowly edged back toward his father. He didn’t want to make an sudden move to draw attention to the fact that it was past his bedtime. But it was too late; he should have stayed still.
“Bedtime, Peter.” Lance grinned to himself when he saw his son’s face fall. That trick never worked. “Say goodnight to your grandmother. You two can get to know each other better tomorrow.” He looked over the boy’s sandy blond hair at his mother as he wondered: Would she still be here tomorrow?
She gave a small nod and held her hand out to Peter. “Yes, I wi
ll see you tomorrow, Peter.”
Looking chest-fallen, Peter glumly shook her proffered hand. “Taŋyáŋ ištíŋma yo,“ he muttered.
“Peter….”
“Good night,” he stressed slowly in English. Seeing his father’s look, he quickly added, “Sorry.”
“Off with you now.” Lance took the boy’s hand and lead him to the doorway. Giving him a kiss, Lance sent him off with a light swat on his behind.
Amanda could see the love and warmth infused on Lance’s face as he watched the boy run up the stairs. Moments later she saw a different warmth and love play over her son’s features as his wife came into the room, self-consciously smoothing her tumbled hair into place. She could tell Kimberly was flustered by their unexpected guest, but was graciously trying to cover it. She would do well in Boston.
As Kimberly sat next to Lance, grasping his hand between them on the sofa, an uneasy silence descended on the room. None of them seemed willing to speak first, to get to the reason of the visit.
Lance cleared his throat and was rewarded by two pairs of eyes instantly boring into him. He looked quickly from one woman to the other. They weren’t going to speak. Kimberly’s hand tightened. “Yes, well. Kimberly, Mother tells me she stopped by on her way to Paris.”
Kimberly’s eyes got wide. “Paris? Isn’t that in the other….?” She coughed, and tried again. “How lovely. Do you go often? I’ve never been.”
They could see the amusement in Amanda’s eyes. How she loves this, Lance thought to himself.
“Yes, we enjoy the city. We bought a small house five years ago just on the outskirts of the Paris.…”
“Five years ago, Mother?” Unable to believe what she just said, his grip on Kimberly’s hand became tighter. It was only that contact that kept him from leaping to his feet. “Isn’t that about the time Father had my Mercedes repossessed?” And took away my trust fund from Grandfather?
Amanda inwardly cringed. She hadn’t meant to bring that up. Outwardly, she examined her immaculate nails. “Well, yes, I suppose it was around the same time. I hadn’t thought of that.” She looked from Lance’s tight, angry face to the pale countenance of his wife—who surely knew the whole story. Amanda’s mouth took on a firm, determined line as her chin raised a few inches higher. “While we are on that subject—which I had hoped to avoid….”
“No kidding,” Lance muttered under his breath, but still loud enough for her to hear.
“We might as well get to the reason as to why I am here.” Unaffected by his sarcasm, Amanda reached for the large gold-accented, quilted leather purse next to her.
The couple across from her just watched with curious, wary eyes. What else can she take away from me? Lance felt the comforting stroke of Kimberly’s fingers on the palm of his hand. Knowing there was nothing his parents could do to further humiliate him, he felt himself relax. And, with his relaxing, Kimberly gave a small sigh of relief. Not realizing he had transferred his feelings to his wife, he gave her a small smile of apology and raised her hand to his lips for a quick kiss.
Ever aware of what was going on, Amanda knew the exact moment when Lance relaxed. She had come knowing he would be angry and resentful. She had not known, however, the circumstances in which she would find him—with his charming wife and the beauty of his house. There had to be a story there that she knew she would probably never learn. Accepting that, she finally found the papers she sought.
Pulling out a small sheaf of papers, she had a pleased smile on her face. “I brought you a wedding present.”
Lance eyed the papers in her hand. They looked rather official. “Is that a summons, Mother?” He had tried to sound light, but the animosity came through. “Or am I being sued?”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed. “At least you remember some of your training from Harvard.” At the cold answering stare she received from her quip, the papers fell into her lap. “Really, Lance, I feel as if you do not trust me at all.”
His eyes mirrored hers. “Now, why would you think that, Mother? Disinheriting me? Disowning me? Disapproving of everything I ever did that was different?”
A manicured finger shot into the air. “You were never disowned!”
Lance put a hand to his chest and mockingly bowed his head. “My mistake.”
He and Kimberly were both surprised when Amanda burst out laughing. “Oh, Lance! Your grandfather used to make that same gesture when he was being sarcastic! Oh, how I miss him.” There were tears in her eyes when her laughing finally stopped. “You look just like him, you know.”
Lance, thinking of the grandfather he had truly loved, smiled at the thought. “Yes, I know. I miss him, too, Mother.” He was the only warmth and love I knew.
Kimberly, unsure of what to say or do in this explosive setting, looked from one to the other. Their faces were so similar with the high cheekbones, strong chin, and clear brown eyes. She, like Peter had done, chose to sit still and not be noticed rather than jumping into the fray.
Amanda seemed to draw herself up to get on with business. “He was a wonderful man. Sometimes I wonder how I turned out like I did. Must have been my mother….” She caught Lance’s incredulous look. “Yes, I do know how I am. I was trained to be exactly what I am. And I was trained to marry a man just like your father.” She looked over at the silent Kimberly and smiled warmly. “Thank goodness you had the sense to leave Boston, Lance.” At the confused look on her son’s face, she waved her hand. “And if you tell your father I said that I will categorically deny it. Now,” she picked up the papers in her lap again, “before we get off on another tangent…which I know we are well capable of doing…I would like to give you this.” She handed the papers across the antique coffee table between them. As her eyes took in the luxury of the room, she mumbled under her breath, “Not that it would be as welcome now as it might have been five years ago….”
Lance leaned over to meet her halfway. He frowned at her words as he sat back next to Kimberly and looked at the proffered papers. He heard Kimberly take in a sharp breath.
“Oh, Lance!”
He tried to still the thoughts whirling through his mind—thoughts of his beloved grandfather, thoughts of the injustice served on him, thoughts of the inconsistencies and the admissions of his mother. He tried to focus on the papers in his hand. His eyebrows shot up as he read.
Amanda seemed pleased at both their reactions. “Well, I thought it only seemed fair, Lance. I hope you enjoy it and can someday share it with your father and me. If you can, next week would be lovely.”
Lance’s head shot up at that last remark. In the warm glow of the lamps lighting the room, she looked somewhat fragile to him. She had always been a pillar of strength, right or wrong. Now she looked hopeful and beseeching. Perhaps it was time to bury the hatchet. He saw the pleased look on Kimberly’s face, the excitement of the possibilities. She nodded to encourage him to say something.
“Well, we can’t this coming week, Mother. But, I’ve heard Paris is lovely in the spring. How about if we talk then?”
Some of wall surrounding Amanda cracked and fell around her Versace pumps. “Yes, spring would be wonderful.” She knew when it was time to withdraw. “Kimberly, would you be a dear and show me to my room? It has been a long, tiring day.”
Belatedly recognizing her need to extend hospitality, Kimberly interrupted. “Mrs. Brentwood, I am so sorry! I should have offered you something to eat earlier. Lance, I already ate with the children, but how about if I make you and your mother a nice dinner? There’s always something to eat around here with Lance. It wouldn’t take any time at all.”
With a chuckle, Amanda stopped her. “Lance always was a good eater. But, no thank you, Kimberly. You are a dear, but I, too, had dinner. Actually I dined at Club 33 in the Park just before meeting up with Lance, so I really am fine and appreciate the offer. I am tired and would rather just get some rest.” She held a hand out to Kimberly and the two women walked arm-in-arm out of the room.
Lance sat back o
n the sofa, slightly stunned. He would have enjoyed a snack about now. But, other than that, it had been an eventful day. Wolf and Wals were on their way to bring back Doctor Houser. His mother had dropped in after not speaking to him for over seven years. And now this. He looked at the papers again.
In his hand were three open-ended airplane tickets to France and the deed to a house on the outskirts of Paris.
The Island – 1817
Much farther upstream than he usually traveled, the wolf awakened in the dim light of morning. Pulling himself up on the muddy riverbank, he found he didn’t even have the strength to shake the water off his drenched coat. He must have fallen asleep again as he found the day more advanced when he awakened a second time. Getting slowly to his feet, head down, he padded silently into the forest, away from the sound of the River.
Hunger. There was no coherent thought. Just a feeling, an instinct that he needed to feed. Gliding through the tall pine trees, the wolf’s sharp sense of smell detected something different and, instantly alert, he immediately changed directions. Emerging in a clearing cut out of the forest, he saw a roughly cut grass lawn spread out in front of him, a large Magnolia tree shading one of the grassy slopes. The wide green lawn led up to an impressive three-story white manor house. Stone paths edged with brick wound through the lawn and led to a small cemetery on the side of the house. Small ornamental evergreen trees and shrubs had been placed in matching brick planters. Painted green, ornate filigree railing surrounded the balconies on the upper stories that overlooked the wide river. Four huge pillars supported the largest balcony and guarded the front door. The green ironwork also decorated the sweeping front porch that extended around the side of the house and out of sight. A huge hanging basket of greenery hung between the two center pillars, just above the marble steps leading to the entry. On the roof, surrounded by brick chimneys, was a four-sided birdhouse topped by a weathervane. A metal sailing ship turned this way and that as the breeze played with the direction arrow.
Wolf! The Legend of Tom Sawyer's Island Page 12
