Lily Rose

by Deborah Robinson

  As Eric pulled his mother into his arms, he felt his usual despair at hearing these words. She said a version of them to him almost every day. In fact, he suspected that she looked forward to when he came home from school just so that she could call him into the sitting room and blame herself for Mary’s death. At first, he’d tried to soothe her, telling her that Mary’s skiing accident was just that—an accident—and it had nothing to do with her. But she wouldn’t listen, and soon he gave up trying. He didn’t know how else to help his mother. Over the past three years she’d gone to many doctors, who’d prescribed her an assortment of pills. It saddened Eric to see her depend so much on self-medication—the pills and the alcohol—but he was only seventeen and figured those in positions of authority knew better than him.

  Drawing away from her, he said, “It’s okay, Mom. I’m still here.”

  His mother smiled distantly at him and Eric muttered some excuse about having to go to his room to do his homework. Before leaving the Lalique Room, he turned back to look at her. She was still staring vacantly at the space where he’d been standing, and he knew to a certain extent it didn’t matter whether he was there or not. She was lost in the past, in her childhood, forever keeping tragedy at bay the only way she could.

  Upstairs in his room, Eric flopped on the bed and entertained the idea of studying, but he still felt unsettled. The holidays this year were going to be difficult, especially since Christopher never came home from school anymore. He recalled the family Christmases they’d all spent in Paris before Mary died. There had been so much laughter then, the feeling that they would always be together as a family.

  He had never talked about these memories with anyone else, even his friends. But he had revealed them to that girl Jeff, whom he’d met in Kentucky. He didn’t know why, but something about her had made him open up to her, not to mention the fact that she was more beautiful than any girl he’d ever met. That night they’d spent together certainly had been something. Eric’s experience with sex was limited to fooling around at parties and a short, awkward in-and-out with a Greenwich girlfriend, but even he knew what they’d had together was good, even special. Some nights he still dreamed about Jeff’s luscious body, imagining her warm, supple breasts in his hands, and then he would come in an explosion just like the fireworks on the Fourth of July. He’d wake up soaked and have to change his boxers. But the real Jeff—her face, her voice— was beginning to fade.

  At first, after he’d returned home to Connecticut, they’d talked quite a few times on the phone. Eric had liked listening to Jeff’s jokes about cheerleading practice and what was going on among her group of friends at the Paris Grille. But in their later conversations, he couldn’t help feeling that she was looking for something more from him. It had been so easy when they’d left each other to pretend that might be possible. But hadn’t he done enough by giving her his phone number and address so that she could write him? What else could he do? Eric was beginning to realize that he knew very little about girls. So when a couple of weeks earlier a housekeeper told him that “Anna Jefferson” had called, he didn’t call back. And since he hadn’t heard from Jeff since then, he figured that she had gotten the message and wasn’t going to bother him anymore.

  Lying in bed, Eric wished life was less complicated, like when he was younger. When his sister was alive, his father and brother were around, and his mother wasn’t a stranger. He couldn’t make that happen, but at least he could simplify things by cutting things off with a girl whom he was likely to never see again. It was for the best, he thought, if he forgot about Jeff, and she forgot about him.

  Chapter 4

  THE FIRST GLIMPSE JEFF HAD of Belle Haven was from the taxi she had stepped into after getting off the train in Greenwich. Prior to that she’d spent the past day and night on the train from Lexington to New York City, so agitated and nervous she could barely sleep. Instead, her mind kept replaying questions to the tune of the train’s wheels rumbling along the tracks. Would Eric’s family welcome her? Would they welcome the baby? Well, she thought, it was too late now. The baby was here, and growing fast. Although her morning sickness had mercifully calmed down in time for the trip, Jeff was aware every second of the little being that had taken possession of her body.

  During her brief stop in Grand Central while waiting for her next train, Jeff had slipped into one of the sleazy bathroom stalls to change into a cashmere sweater, soft blue woolen trousers, and a fluffy white down coat from McAlpin’s. She thought she looked just like one of the snobbish, sophisticated girls that Eric might know. Then, as if she was indeed one of those girls traveling home to Greenwich, she strolled through the station’s hallowed marble halls in her shiny new loafers. In the main hall, standing beneath the constellation-covered ceiling while passengers swarmed around her, she felt like she’d finally arrived somewhere worthwhile.

  Boarding the train to Greenwich, her heart began to pump hard with excitement at the thought of seeing Eric again. By this time she had convinced herself that once he heard about the baby, he would want to get married right away. Lots of girls Jeff knew in Kentucky had gotten accidentally pregnant, and their boyfriends had all married them. It wasn’t that farfetched, was it? Well, Eric wasn’t exactly her boyfriend, but they were in love, and this was exactly what Jeff wanted for herself: a rich, educated boyfriend, not some poor nobody without a future. Most definitely of all, she didn’t want to be like her mother, alone and trapped in a dead-end job.

  In the taxi, Jeff leaned forward to see everything she could of the world opening up before her. She had never seen houses this large or magnificent, each looking like it had come straight out of a storybook. A recent wintery storm had left the trees glittering with snow, but she could imagine what they must look like in the summer, lush and green, providing an extra curtain of verdant privacy.

  When the taxi turned onto Harbor Drive, the Atlantic Ocean in all its glory stared back at her. She asked the taxi driver to stop for a minute so that she could drink in the view of the rough gray waves. Never having seen the sea except in pictures and postcards, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. She wondered what it would be like to live right beside it . . . and maybe now she would get the chance. Maybe this little monster growing inside her was a good thing after all; maybe it could land her right in the middle of the wealthy lifestyle she had always desired, and believed she deserved. In a cold and commanding voice she never knew she possessed, she said to the patiently waiting taxi driver, “Go!”

  Jeff’s optimism dimmed slightly when the taxi pulled up to a pair of iron gates leading up to the Langvin estate. Just beyond it she could see an enormous mansion rising above the trees—a shining beacon on the hill, yet forbidden to those who weren’t welcome. Doubts from the train ride resurfaced, but she shook them off with a toss of her abundant blond curls.

  With all the confidence she could muster, she said to the guard in the gatehouse, “I’m here to see Eric Langvin.”

  The guard just winked at her. “Sure, miss, welcome to Viking Manor.”

  What did that wink mean? Did Eric have girls visit him often? Jeff squashed that thought and congratulated herself that she had managed to fool the guard, just like she had fooled everyone else so far.

  After paying the taxi driver, Jeff got out with her suitcase in hand and stood before the Langvins’ front door. It opened within a few seconds of her ringing the bell, as if someone had been expecting her. Rather than a maid, she was surprised to find herself face-to-face with Eric. It was as if Jeff was seeing him again for the first time—his fair hair, his square jaw—and falling straight into his sea-blue eyes without noticing the puzzled expression in them.

  “Surprise!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

  Eric returned her hug but his reply was less enthusiastic. “Jeff, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Kentucky.”

  “Since I hadn’t heard from you for so long, I thought I would visit you so we could spend New Yea
r’s together.” When he didn’t say anything, she put on her most alluring pout. “Eric, aren’t you glad to see me?”

  “Uh, sure.” Even though he was only wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

  This was not the welcome Jeff had been expecting. “Don’t you want to ask me to come in?”

  “It’s not really a good time,” Eric replied. “My parents are busy, so why don’t we go for a ride and grab some hot chocolate down at the club?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he took Jeff’s suitcase and headed around the house toward the garage. Jeff followed him with uncertain steps, but when she saw his red Porsche, her excitement began to return. Sitting next to him in his car as they zoomed down the snowy, empty streets was like something out of the movies. What would her Kentucky girlfriends think of her now?

  Eric turned off Harbor Drive and pulled up to an expansive, dignified-looking building with an American flag flying from the rooftop. This, Jeff supposed, was the Belle Haven Club, which he had mentioned to her during one of their telephone conversations. As they walked up to the entrance, Jeff snuggled into her coat with anticipation. The fact that Eric was taking her to one of his favorite places must mean something.

  The interior of the club was homey, filled with overstuffed club chairs and sofas, but nearly devoid of people as Eric led Jeff to a table overlooking an expansive marina.

  “Where is everyone?” Jeff asked.

  “It’s kind of deserted now because everyone’s in Palm Beach for the winter,” Eric explained. “But when it gets warm, more boats are docked out there than people to sail them.”

  “Do you like sailing here?” Jeff hoped that talking about sailing would put him a better mood.

  “Yes, but I also like hanging out at the dock. You can get some great pictures at sunset when the light is just right. The golden hour, it’s called.”

  Jeff recalled how enthusiastically Eric had spoken about his photography the first night they’d met. “What else do you like to take pictures of?”

  “People . . . my family, mostly. There’s something about being able to capture a person’s essence when they’re posing, or especially when they’re not posing and just acting natural, doing what they normally do. It’s tough, but when it happens, it’s like magic.”

  “Well, I’d love for you to take a picture of me,” she said coyly.

  He only nodded as a waiter came and placed before them two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, scones, and a bowl of clotted cream. Jeff realized just then how hungry she was, having eaten nothing since boarding the train in Grand Central. Also, now that her morning sickness was no longer bothering her, she had the appetite of a mule. But she couldn’t stuff herself in front of Eric. Instead, she sat back, wrapped her hands around her mug, and gazed adoringly into his eyes the way only a teenage girl can. Eric seemed to relax and smiled back at her, making Jeff feel encouraged. The feelings from their time alone together—all the lust and wonderment—came rushing back.

  “Eric, please don’t be mad,” she entreated. “I’m so happy to see you and I just wanted to spend some time with you. I was thinking I could stay at your place and meet your parents?”

  “I’m glad to see you, too,” Eric responded with what sounded like genuine warmth. “But you can’t stay at my house. My parents would never allow it. Maybe I could put you up at a nearby inn? I could come see you every day. How long are you planning to be here, anyway?”

  As Jeff took a cautious sip of her chocolate, she began to understand what Eric meant. He didn’t want her to meet his parents. He didn’t want her inside his house. Instead, he wanted to keep her hidden someplace he could visit her and undoubtedly have sex with her without anybody else knowing. But Jeff hadn’t schemed her way to Greenwich to be someone’s dirty little secret.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she said, folding her hands over her belly. “There’s another reason I came here to see you, and I might as well tell you now.”

  “What is it, Jeff?” Eric asked, sounding irritated for the first time.

  In a soft voice, she said, “I’m ten weeks pregnant.”

  Eric stared at her as if he didn’t quite realize what she was getting at. Then he shook his head. “How do you know it’s mine?”

  A hot redness surged across Jeff’s face. This certainly wasn’t the way she had imagined this conversation going. “Because you’re the first person I ever had sex with,” she snapped. “And the last,” she added for good measure.

  Now Eric looked even more confused. “I didn’t think you could get pregnant your first time.”

  “I didn’t, either.” Jeff tried to choke back the angry tears rising in her throat. “But between the two of us, you should have known better.”

  Eric looked taken aback, even abashed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you were . . . I mean, you’re right. I should have known better. But that doesn’t change what’s happened. What are you going to do now?”

  “Me?” Jeff wished they were sitting next to each other instead of with the white-linen gulf of the table between them. She knew if she could just hold his hand, just touch him, she could make him understand. “Eric, I know this is scary. I’m scared, too. But I fell in love with you the minute I met you, and I knew we were meant to be together. And although I would not have planned this ever, this will bring us closer together. We just have to make some plans.”

  “What kind of plans? Do you think we’re going to get married?”

  “Well, I . . .” Jeff stopped when she saw the resolute look on Eric’s face. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  “You’re right, you should meet my parents,” he finally said.

  A glimmer of hope shot through Jeff’s mind. He wanted her to meet his parents! And once she did, she was sure that they would see that she and the baby fit perfectly into their family. After all, not long ago they had lost a daughter, and now they might be gaining one.

  Neither Eric nor Jeff spoke to each other during the chilly ride back to Viking Manor. Once there, Eric led Jeff through the back door and into the kitchen, where arranged on the long counter were two different kinds of pizzas, a green salad, and a hot loaf of buttered bread. It was food for a quiet family dinner, but Jeff’s mouth began to water since she hadn’t dared to eat a bite at the club.

  “Wait here,” Eric said, and Jeff stood obediently where he had left her, wondering if she might sneak a piece of bread.

  When he returned, Jeff followed him into a circular sitting room that made her think of a crystal ice palace. Holding court was an elegantly tall, thin, pale blond woman who appeared as fragile as one of the glass figurines that filled the glass-fronted cabinets throughout the room. From what Eric had told Jeff about his mother since the death of his sister, she could indeed tell that something had forever frozen within Lillian Langvin. Despite being wrapped up in a cream cashmere robe, she looked as cold as the vodka on the rocks that she held in one long, delicate hand. Jeff’s attention was immediately drawn to her other hand, which was adorned by a very large, square-cut diamond ring. She hoped to be wearing one at least half that size on her hand by New Year’s Eve.

  “Mom,” Eric said, “I’d like you to meet Jeff . . . I mean, Anna Jefferson.”

  Lillian inclined her head in a cool nod, looking at Jeff with eyes the same unsettling aqua as Eric’s.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Jeff stammered.

  “Where’s Dad?” Eric asked his mother. “I want him to meet Anna, too.”

  “Your father is in the family room watching the game.”

  “Then I think we’d all better go join him there.”

  Jeff was glad to leave the sitting room, being afraid she might accidentally break one of the priceless glass objects if she so much as breathed. She followed Eric and his mother down the hallway to a much cheerier space where Lars Langvin was settled in a big, brown leather cigar chair, the television playing low in the ba
ckground. As he turned around and stood in the fashion of a gentleman, Jeff could see that Eric got his height and build from his father, but his coloring was all from his mother.

  “Eric, my boy,” Lars said, “you didn’t tell me you had a date tonight.” His dark eyes flickered over to Jeff in appraisal. “Come sit down and introduce me to this lovely young lady.”

  Eric looked as if he was about to correct his father, thought better of it, and gestured for Jeff to sit down beside him on the couch opposite his parents. “Dad, this is Anna Jefferson,” he began and then faltered, unsure of how to continue.

  “So Anna, do you go to Greenwich Academy?” Lars broke the silence.

  Jeff supposed this must be Brunswick Prep’s sister school. “No, sir,” she said. “I’m from Paris—“

  “Paris, Kentucky,” Eric interjected. “Anna and I met when I went down for that poverty awareness tour in October. She happened to be passing through town just now and thought she would pay me a visit.”

  Jeff had to clench her teeth to keep from screaming. Here she sat with a baby in her belly, making her so hungry that all she could think about was the pizza sitting on the kitchen counter, and Eric wasn’t even going to tell his parents the truth about why she had come to see him. Obviously she was just going to have to tell them herself.

  “Mr. Langvin, Mrs. Langvin, I’m so happy to finally meet you.” Jeff spoke as if she and Eric had been dating for months. “What Eric is trying to say is that we fell in love in Kentucky, and I came to spend New Year’s with him.”

  Lars turned to Eric with a smile that appeared to be an attempt at joviality. “So I see this isn’t just a date but a new girlfriend.”

  “I—” Eric opened and closed his mouth.

  “We have some very special news to tell you,” Jeff continued, looking expectantly at Eric, who was still speechless.