It was a strange kind of Thanksgiving dinner. First Jillian's mother had to be carried in and put at the end of the table (the hostess end, because Tony's chair was too near the wall), and once Jana assumed the role of hostess, she ruled, no one else. This greatgrandmother of mine was rude, abrasive,
and totally honest. It amazed me that Tony and Troy seemed so fond of her.
Still, it was a tiring meal, an exhausting evening, during which I was plied with a thousand questions I didn't know how to answer unless I lied. When Jana asked me how long I'd be staying at Farthinggale Manor, I didn't know what to answer. I looked hopefully at Tony and saw next to him a steely-faced Jillian, who held her fork midway to her mouth and turned to Tony and glared as he began to rescue me. "Heaven has come to stay for as long as she likes," he announced, smiling first at me, then turning to Jillian and giving her a shut-up-or-else rictus. "She's already begun school at Winterhaven. In fact, she did so well on her entrance exams that she entered as a senior--a year ahead of her age group. And we've already applied to Radcliffe and Williams so she won't have to go too far away for a first-rate college. We're both so happy to have -Heaven here. It's a bit as if Leigh had at last returned to us, isn't it Jill?"
All during this little speech Jillian had been shoveling food into her mouth, as if to cram it too full for any betraying words to slip out. She said nothing, merely glared at me. Oh, how I wished she could learn to love me. I needed so badly to have a real mother, someone I could really talk to, someone who could teach me how to be the right kind of woman. But I was beginning to realize that Jillian would never be that. Perhaps if she were more like Jana--rude and overbearing, but at least interested in getting to know me.
Thankfully, Jana had little chance to do that. I spent the meal in agitation, afraid she would begin asking about my past again, afraid some truth would slip out and contradict what I'd told Tony. But the meal was finished amidst a din of small talk and soon after dinner Jana left for her elegant hotel in Boston.
"I'm sorry I can't stay and get to know you better Heaven, but I've never been comfortable staying here at Farthy"---here she cast an accusing glare at Jillian--"and I must get back to Texas tomorrow. Perhaps you'll come and visit me sometime." And before she left she gave me a kiss on each cheek, making me feel that at least one female in the family had accepted me.
Early the next morning, Tony tucked me into his most impressive limo, covered my legs snugly with a heavy fur rug, and we were off to Tatterton Toy Company for the official starting day of the Christmas season.
I was stunned at the size of the store. Six floors of nothing but toys! It wasn't yet ten o'clock, and hordes of warmly dressed people crowded outside, staring into the display windows. Tony had a commanding way of pushing through the crowds until he and I were next to the steamy glass, our noses cold from staring in. Every window had a different theme, and I could have cried for the one with Tiny Tim without a goose, until the door popped open and Scrooge was there.
The display windows impressed me so much I was breathless, like a child caught in a dream of riches. The salespeople were dressed in red, black, and white uniforms with lots of gold embellishments. To my surprise, even those who didn't look wealthy did their share of buying as well. "You can't tell a person's worth by their clothes anymore," said Tony. "Besides, everyone is collectible-conscious today."
It wasn't until we reached the sixth floor that I spied the special glass and gold case containing the Tatterton Toy Portrait Dolls.
I gave each young girl there extremely critical attention, before I asked Tony: "Who makes the portrait doll?"
"Oh," he answered casually, "aren't they beautiful? We look the world over for young girls with special qualities, and then our best artisans make a portrait doll of them. It takes many months."
"Was my mother of the type original dolls are modeled from?"
Tony smiled before he turned his head my way. "She was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen-- except for you. But she was a modest, shy girl, who didn't want to pose, so I lost my chance to immortalize Leigh . ."
"You mean there never was a portrait doll of my mother?" Deep in my heart I felt waves of dread. Why wasn't he telling me the truth?
"Not that I know of," he answered blandly, then directed me to the other toy attractions he wanted me to see.
He tugged me off to show me historical dolls in authentic costumes. "Are you sure a portrait doll was not made of my mother, without your authorization?"
"Nobody _does anything without my authorization. Now, please, Heaven, drop the subject. It's a sore one with me."
Why was he looking like that? Why, as if what happened or didn't happen yesterday had nothing at all to do with today--when it did, it did!
In my mind, the most important events had happened long before I was born, to create my life, to shape my world, to give me endless questions to ask that no one wanted to answer.
After Tony finished showing me the store, he went to his office, and I stayed on in Boston to do my own Christmas shopping. What a thrill to do Christmas shopping, to have money to buy whatever presents I wanted to give those I loved. How exciting to walk in the crowds past gaily decorated shops and know that I could enter them without shame. I no longer had to look longingly in windows, dreaming of possessions I could never afford; now I could afford so many things.
Week by week I was growing richer. Tony was depositing money in a checking account that he'd opened for me. And he gave me a very generous allowance. I lived thriftily and put away what I could in a savings account that drew interest. On rare occasions Jillian would hand me twenty-dollar bills as if they were pennies. "Oh, don't be so damned grateful!" she yelled when I thanked her perhaps too enthusiastically, "It's only money!"
The savings account was meant for that wonderful day when I had my family back together again; I spent very little on myself. When I shopped that year, I shopped for all of us, as if we were back together. A beautiful white cableknit sweater for Tom, along with a fine camera and dozens of rolls of film so he could have a friend take pictures of him that he could mail to me. It was easy to find the kind of heavy wool jacket he'd so longed for when we lived in the Willies, and trudging back and forth to school had been a real struggle when neither your feet or any other part of your body was warm. A coat just like the one Logan used to wear, genuine leather and fleecelined. I wanted to give him everything he'd ever wanted. I shopped for Fanny, though I didn't know where to send my gifts. I put them in the bottom dresser drawer along with all that I'd bought for Keith and Our Jane, promising myself I'd have the joy of seeing them open my gifts someday . . . someday.
Troy and I met early Christmas morning in his cottage, long before Jillian and Tony were up. He had his breakfast all ready, the tree we had trimmed together, and the gifts we had for each other stacked beneath. "Come in, Merry Christmas! Don't you look lovely with roses in your cheeks. I was so afraid you'd be late. I've made us the most delicious Swedish Christmas bread."
Later, we opened our gifts like two young children. Troy gave me a blue cashmere sweater that matched my eyes perfectly. I gave him a rich brown leather diary, tooled with gold. "What in the world is this? A diary for me to record my most ridiculous or remarkable words?"
He was joking, I was dead serious. "I want you to write in it, beginning the first time you heard about Jillian from Tony. Everything they told you about my mother before they were married. How she felt about her father, about the divorce. Write about the first time you saw her, what she said to you, and what you said to her. Recall what she wore, your first impressions."
His expression seemed strange as he nodded and accepted the book from me. "All right, I'll do my best. However, you have to keep remembering I was only three--are you listening, Heaven, only three. She was twelve."
"Tony told me you were always older than your age when it came to intelligence, and younger than your age when it came to being left alone."
I had other gifts for him that pleased him more. What he gave to me I cherished more than anything Jillian and Tony put under one of the huge Christmas trees placed before every front window in Farthinggale Manor.
Jillian, Tony, and I went out to a fancy Christmas party at one of their friends' houses. It was the first time they'd ever taken me anywhere with them, but somehow that wasn't enough to keep me from feeling miserably lonely that day, and the rest of the week until New Year's and the week after when I returned to school again. Tony went off to work every day, and almost every night he and Jillian went out together. Jillian was scarcely to be seen during the day; and when, on occasion, I'd see her in the music room playing solitaire, she no longer invited me to share a card game with her. Ever since Tony had publicly announced on Thanksgiving that I was to be a permanent resident at Farthy, Jillian had retreated from me totally. To her I was a resident, not a member of the family.