appearances themselves. Misery loves company," she said, as if she had heard my thoughts earlier in the day and wanted to show me we thought alike.
"I don't think it was quite that way, but--"
"It was. Believe me," she practically
commanded. Then she smiled. "It doesn't matter. What matters is what's true, and it's true you are beautiful. Now, when a girl is already out in the world, the normal world, and she grows into her own, into her own beauty, she has had some preparation and at least has some idea of what to expect.
"But you . . . you were kept under lock and key, shut away in that place or one like it previously, and then suddenly, here I come along and emancipate you, just like Lincoln emancipated the slaves."
I started to smile.
"Don't laugh. I'm not making a foolish statement. It is like that. You're so free to do practically anything you want. In fact, you have more freedom, because you have the advantages now. You have your own things. You have beautiful clothing, a magnificent new home, and soon"--her eyes twinkled--"you'll have your own car. You will."
She squeezed my hand harder.
"However, with freedom comes responsibility. You must promise me on your soul, on your heart and your soul, on your very life that you will not give away your treasure quickly and foolishly. You must find restraint. You must--"
"I wouldn't do that, as much for myself as for anyone else," I said firmly.
She stared a moment, and then she smiled and nodded.
"No, you wouldn't. I knew that about you the moment I set eyes on you. You are very special, Celeste. You have something those other girls don't have. I'm so happy about that."
She took a deep breath of relief and let go of my hand. Then she stood up.
"Let's make a pact for now. Until you're really settled in and you have a firm understanding of what I would call the lay of the land, you won't go on any dates or spend any time alone with any of the boys you meet. You can talk to them on the phone, of course, but for a while, let's keep them all at a safe di
stance. Not that you would be too weak or that I don't trust you," she quickly added. "I just would feel better. I can't imagine how I would feel if I had brought you into some danger instead of improving your life."
I stared at her and thought to myself, wasn't she throwing up walls even higher and thicker than all the Mother Higginses in the world had done or could do? Wasn't she imprisoning me in a real sense?
"When you say for a while, how long do you mean?" I asked, full of disappointment.
"Oh, not long at all, but long enough to be certain you're on solid ground. If I didn't look after you properly, Wade would be all over me anyway, Celeste. He might even want me to send you back," she concluded, a thick sense of threat underlying her final words.
It brought blood to my face.
Behave and do as I want you to do, or we'll send you back, was the message, clear and strong.
This was a day full of threats, I thought, recalling my moments with Mrs. Brentwood in her office after Wade had gone. Was there something on my forehead, something about me I couldn't see but others could? Was it the dark cloud of my past that hovered over my head? When had I been anything but a good girl, a proper girl, obedient and responsible and trustworthy? Mother Higgins appreciated me, but was that for the reasons Ami suggested? Was it because I was so shackled by the orphanage, by the religious chains? If someone is locked away for her whole life, is she far less likely to be a sinner?
"Just show me you can handle the freedom," Ami finally said. "That's all I ask. Okay?"
I nodded.
"Okay."
"Good. Good. Let that be the only serious, mean conversation between us ever." She pressed her palms together as if it was a prayer, hugged me, and then started to leave. "Oh, Basil is coming to dinner again tonight. Mrs. McAlister is preparing Irish stew, one of his favorite meals, especially the way she prepares it. Wear the outfit I got you at Oh-La-La, and don't forget the cologne he likes. After all," she said, trailing a thin laugh, "he's really paying for all this in one way or another."
She left, closing the door softly behind her. It wasn't until that moment that I realized my heart had been pounding. Why was it so important to always look sexy for Basil? He was truly like the king of the manor.
I returned to my schoolwork, but I couldn't stop thinking about Trevor and wondering why he had called me so soon. Despite all the warnings Anti had given me about boys, I still felt it was simply impolite and ungracious to ignore his call. Ami had not taken down his telephone number to give to me. Perhaps he knew he didn't have to give it to her. I reached into my purse and took out his card. As I tapped out the numbers, I couldn't help feeling like I was doing something forbidden. He answered on the first ring.
"Trevor Foley," he said. "At your service."
"Hi. It's Celeste Atwell."
"Hey. How are you doing? Recuperating from the first day in the pits?"