Twilight's Child (Cutler 3)

The moment our glasses touched the table, the feast began.

We started with escargots and then had a radicchio salad with an absolutely delicious dressing and loaves of homemade French bread. Bronson warned me that every recipe was his chef's secret, and I would not be able to steal anything to bring back to the hotel.

"Don't worry, Nussbaum wouldn't appreciate my suggesting someone else's recipe," I said, just imagining. "He has too much pride."

"Oh, that egotistical Hungarian," Mother moaned. "He can be such a bore."

After we were served a few tablespoons of sherbet to cleanse our palates, the main course was served. We had duck a l'orange and wild rice with a side dish of asparagus in a hollandaise sauce that was sumptuous. The waiter served us wine, and the waitress hovered about, just waiting for the opportunity to refill our water glasses.

I noticed that as usual, Mother ate like a bird, despite the delicious food. But Jimmy and I stuffed ourselves and nearly burst when the waiters brought out our dessert: baked Alaska. How we found the room for it all, I'll never know. But by the time we finished having our coffee, I thought I would need a crane to lift me out of the chair.

"Why don't we all take a walk about the grounds," Bronson suggested, "before we have our after-dinner drinks? I think we could all use the exercise."

"Sure," Jimmy said, eager to continue his study of the house and grounds.

"I need it," I confessed.

"Well, I don't," Mother said. "And I've seen the grounds. I'll wait for you all in the French room, Bronson."

"Everyone could use the exercise, Laura Sue," Bronson coaxed. His eyes twinkled with persuasion. Mother sighed deeply.

"Oh, well, if everyone insists, I'll go," she said, making it look as if she was doing us all a great favor. Somehow, Bronson didn't mind Mother's performances. If anything, I saw a look of amusement in his face.

He took us back out the front, where Livingston rushed as best he could to open the door, and we followed a slate walkway around the house, past gardens, a gazebo and a small pond, to the rear of the house, where we found the tennis courts and a rather large swimming pool. Everything, including the walkway, was lit up.

Jimmy walked ahead with him and talked about th

e house and the grounds, while Mother complained to me that the shoes she was wearing were not designed for hikes.

"1 would hardly call this a hike, Mother," I said, but that didn't dissuade her from whining until we made our way back and she could drop her body into the soft cushions of the settee in the drawing room. Moments later Livingston arrived with a tray bearing a bottle of sherry and four glasses. He poured us each a glass and brought the tray around. Jimmy and I were seated in the two wing-back chairs to the right of the white marble fireplace. Bronson remained standing. As soon as Livingston left, Bronson raised his glass again, this time smiling in a conspiratorial way at Mother.

"It's time for the main toast of the evening," Bronson said, "and an announcement"

Mother followed that with one of her nervous little laughs.

My heart began to thump like a lead drum against my chest. Some little voice within me had been whispering suspicions all night, but I had chosen to ignore it, chosen to ignore the way Mother and Bronson Alcott gazed into each other's eyes, chosen to ignore the way he placed his hand over hers and held it there at the dinner table.

I looked at Jimmy, who gazed back at me with eyes betraying a similar suspicion. There had been ulterior motives for this dinner after all.

"We wanted you two to be the first to know," Bronson said. "Right, Laura Sue?"

"Yes," she said, smiling.

"We're announcing our engagement tomorrow," he declared. "It won't be much of an engagement, however," he added quickly. "We intend to be married within a week."

"A week!" I couldn't help my exclamation. "But it's been less than two months since Randolph's death," I cried.

Like a tender flower without the admiration of rain to nourish her faith in herself, Mother wilted before me.

"I knew it," she moaned. "I knew she would say something like that. I just knew it! My happiness means nothing to you, does it, Dawn?"

"Well, how can you expect me to say anything else?"

I looked up at Bronson and then turned back to Mother. "How can you do this so soon after Randolph's death?"

"You of all people should know, Dawn," she replied coldly, "that my marriage to Randolph was not much of a marriage anyway. He was married to his mother, her every shadow, her every word. You don't know how much I suffered," she added, her throat choking and her eyes filling with tears and quickly overflowing in streams down her dainty cheeks.

"Now Laura Sue, don't," Bronson chided gently, putting his glass of sherry down and going to her. He sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.