"Besides," she continued. "Winston wants me to go with him to the finest places, fly us places, take us to extravagant charity events. I told him we couldn't go because we didn't have the wardrobe for all that, and he said he wouldn't permit us to miss anything because of something so trivial as clothing and shoes. Those were his words. I told him we couldn't accept any charity, especially for expensive things we wouldn't use much, and he said we would be doing him a favor. He likes us. Grace!" she cried. throwing up her hands. "How can we be blamed for that?"
She waited for my response. I didn't know what to say. Winston never made me feel like a charity case or as if he was doing us any favors. Mommy was right. He was the one who always acted grateful and looked sad if we were even a bit unhappy or if there was any possibility we wouldn't accompany him to something. His favorite expression was "You two make me look good."
"I just... feel funny about it." I said.
"Well don't," she insisted. "If he doesn't want to do it. Winston Montgomery will tell us. He is not a man who does anything he doesn't want to do."
Was Mommy falling in love with him or just admiring him and enjoying his company? I wondered, Sometimes she sounded as if she thought he was so wonderful, and sometimes she sounded as if he was just someone she was occupying herself with until something better or more important came along. I guessed the biggest danger to being rich was being used, taken advantage of, but if you didn't mind, if what you received in return was satisfying, what difference did it make? Especially for someone as wealthy as Winston Montgomery.
"Okay," I said. I wasn't going to argue or make Mommy feel bad about anything.
The list of events Winston wanted us to attend seemed to grow longer with every passing week. Most of the time I was unable to attend. I had to study for an exam or complete a major homework assignment. I became accustomed to preparing dinner for myself. Mommy was always suggesting I invite a friend over to eat with me, but after the tragic accident and Randy's death I retreated to my own corner of the world. Time seemed to have little meaning. One week was like the next.
I was friendly with other students, talked about school and homework. but I resisted every invitation to every party. Two boys asked me out. but I made up so many excuses they soon gave up. Despite the lectures Mommy gave me I couldn't get over the dreaded feeling that somehow, some way, I brought others bad luck.
When Phoebe finally returned to school she was treated like some sort of heroine. Expensive cosmetic surgery had corrected almost all of her scars. What few could be seen were treated as if they were badges of honor. She had survived, but the accident and the ordeal that followed didn't change who she was inside. If anything, it reinforced her arrogance and her conceit. Now she was even more of a center of attention.
The one thing that did change was her focus on me. I stayed away from her, and she finally decided to really ignore me. Perhaps I was a constant reminder of Randy and his death, and she wanted to avoid that more than anything. Ironically I thought that was Randy's gift to me. He wanted Phoebe off my back, and he got her off. Only the price was far too high. I hated her for that. but I didn't dwell on it.
Winston became more of a confidant for me than Mommy was during those weeks. She had reached a place where she
did not want to think about, hear about, or discuss anything unpleasant or sad.
"You permit one teardrop to slip under your door, and a flood of sadness comes pouring your way," she told me. "Think of only happy things, fun things, beautiful things.'
She even stopped watching her favorite soap opera because it had too many sad events occurring in it She would rather watch mindless sitcoms if she watched any television at all. Most of the time she was too busy planning her wardrobe or working an her appearance.
She turned her attention to fashion magazines, read the Palm Beach newspaper and magazine religiously to the point where she knew all the social gossip. Winston was at first amused by that and then occasionally looked at me with a troubling eye.
"Oh. Jackie," he said once after she was rattling off what this heiress had done and that trust baby had bought. "you don't want to dote on those people. And you certainly don't want to be anything like they are. Why, when they die, their souls will just go up in a puff of smoke." He and I laughed. but Mommy looked upset.
Later she told me. "Winston might make fun of those people with us, but believe me, they are the citizens of his country, and he pays more than just lip service to them."
I wanted to argue about that. but I didn't. Let it go, I thought, all this will soon end, and who knows maybewe'll move. That was something we were accustomed to doing anyway. I would certainly not put up any fight if she suggested that. Winter slipped almost unnoticed into spring, and very often in the spring talk of our leaving for another base, another community. began.
However, what was to be now was quite the contrary, even though for a short time it looked as if it was not to be. One night in late May Mommy came home unusually early from a charity ball in Palm Beach. I was studying for my final in social studies. and I was still at my desk reviewing notes when I heard the front door open and then slam shut with such force the condo shook.
"Mommy?" I called from my door.
She went into her room without responding. I couldn't imagine what was happening, but I was so used to the sound of one shoe dropping I was trembling in anticipation of the next. I went to her room and peered in. She was throwing her jewelry and her clothes off in a fury.
"What is it? Why are you back so soon?" I asked. I didn't think she would respond, but suddenly she stopped undressing and turned to me.
"I don't mind a man who gets jealous and upset when you spend too much time with another man or other men. That I actually expect and enjoy. But a man who criticizes me far spending too much time with other women and agreeing to go to their lunches at the finer clubs is... is... infuriating!" she cried, and looked as if she would pull out her own hair.
"Maybe he just wants you to stay away from women he knows are not really nice," I offered.
"Why is it that all the men I've met in my life think they know everything, even what's best for me more than I do? Can't I tell who is and who isn't nice, who is and who isn't sincere? Do I have to depend on them for that?"
This was the first hint I had ever gotten that there was even an iota of dissatisfaction with Daddy. Unless, of course, she didn't include him.
"Daddy wasn't like that, was he?"
"Wasn't? Your father was a naval officer. Grace. He was in command. That wasn't something easily left outside the door when he came home to me."
She saw the expression on my face and relaxed. "It wasn't unpleasant. We didn't fight over things like most husbands and wives fight, but men in general feel superior. Don't you see that for yourself?"
I wanted to say no. but I was afraid.