I nodded. I certainly didn’t want to feel selfish.
“How do you know he’ll like what you and the decorator have done, Cassie?”
“Why shouldn’t he like it? Everything was suggested by the same decorator Mother used. He knows Mother’s taste in things, a taste Daddy appreciated, and as it turns out, I have the same taste in most things.” She looked very annoyed at my question. “It’s not brain surgery,” she added sharply.
“I’m sure you’ve chosen the right things,” I said. “I didn’t mean to say you didn’t.”
She calmed and then smiled at me. “I do apologize for not taking more interest in you and spending more time with you, Semantha. I know how hard it is for you now, too. How are you feeling? I mean, healthwise? Any problems, female problems, especially?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, young girls sometimes have little difficulties. Take your period, for example. Is it still regular? Because emotional trauma can have a serious effect on all that.”
“Yes, I’m still regular. Remember? Mother used to say she could set a clock by me.”
“I remember. As I recall, yours comes around the first of the month, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Cassie.”
“So you should be having one any day now.”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Don’t guess so, Semantha. Take more interest in your body. I want you to let me know when it starts.”
“Why?”
“Just do. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sure.”
“Good. Now, let’s clean up and watch some television together. We haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Okay,” I said. She was right. We hadn’t done much together for quite a while. Actually, I hadn’t seen Cassie in this good a mood for just as long. She and I worked side-by-side in the kitchen, and as we cleaned up, she talked about the Heavenstone future, how she envisioned our stores moving to other states and eventually becoming as big as the most famous national chains.
“Soon we’ll start considering a good private school for you,” she said. “I want to visit them and interview. We’re not placing you in just any private school. As Mother would say if she were here right now, most of these places are just dumping grounds for spoiled children. Their parents are simply searching for a clean place to dump their kids and get them out of their hair. We won’t do that with you.”
“What about your own education, Cassie? You’re really not going to just stop learning, are you?”
“Of course not. I learn something new each and every day. Right now, it all has to do with our business. When I feel Daddy is back on his feet one hundred percent, I’ll think about continuing my formal studies.”
The way she sounded when she said it made me think it was something very far off in her planning. She saw it in my face, read my thoughts easily as usual.
“Don’t worry about me, Semantha. I have everything well planned out. Everything is going to be all right.”
She gave me a hug and a kiss, and we went into the den to watch television. After only ten minutes, I recalled why I wasn’t especially fond of watching television with Cassie. According to her, nothing we turned to was worth our time. She especially ridiculed the reality shows.
“They just pander to voyeurs. It amazes me how willingly people will make fools of themselves in front of millions of viewers. Self-respect is becoming as rare as perfect diamonds.”
> That didn’t end her critique. She flipped through channels, but every sitcom and even some of the dramas were “stupid.” It occurred to me that Cassie never had any favorite actors or actresses or singers. She had never put up a poster in her room or collected anyone’s CDs. She knew classical composers and famous classical music, but she didn’t include any music in her daily life. I had never seen her buy an entertainment magazine or even browse through one in a dental office waiting room or anyplace like that.
What, I wondered, were her conversations about with other students, the ones she deemed worthy of her attention at school? By her own choice, she didn’t participate in any social events. Were all of their discussions only about schoolwork?
On a number of occasions, I tried to get her interested in the music I liked or a movie I had seen and actresses and actors I liked, but she showed no interest and, if anything, ridiculed my choices as being silly, insufficient (whatever that meant), or just poor choices. She often ended the conversation by saying, “You have to be who you are, I guess,” and left it at that. Somehow, she always managed to make me feel stupid.
Finally, frustrated with everything that was on television, she shut it off. I thought that would be that. We’d go up to our respective rooms and go to sleep, but she surprised me by talking about Porter Andrew Hall.
“I promised I would tell you about my date,” she said, and sat back on the sofa. “I like to watch the faces of other women when I enter a room with a man, not that I have done that much. Anyway, when we entered Le Jardin Francais, I could see the envy on the faces of other women. Porter is quite an elegant-looking man, don’t you think?”