Web of Dreams (Casteel 5)

"One is so much like the other, no one could tell." She brushed back a strand of my hair. "Doesn't Leigh look beautiful?"

"Absolutely. Overwhelming. I can't think of when you looked more like mother and daughter," he said, but she seemed hurt by that. He saw it too and corrected himself quickly. "Actually, you look too young to have a daughter who looks this old. You look more like sisters," he concluded. Momma beamed.

"See," she whispered as we started out, "you can always get them to do and say the right things if you want to."

My heart fluttered and my breath caught in my throat and seemed to stay. Momma was really doing it: she was really sharing her womanly secrets with me. Dressed the way I was, going off to a fancy restaurant, I felt more thrilled and excited than I could remember.

And then, at the restaurant, Daddy gave us another surprise. He announced that he had initiated a new Caribbean vacation cruise in hopes of stimulating more business. Primarily it was a cruise to Jamaica and he had made plans for us to go on the

commencing voyage. We would leave next week with a bon voyage party and all.

Momma was so speechless, she didn't look happy at first, even though just today she had complained about, ever going to Jamaica, which had become a vacation spot for the rich and famous.

"But what about Leigh's schooling?" she asked.

"We'll take her tutor along, just like the other times," Daddy replied and looked perplexed about her sudden concern.

I thought it-was peculiar for her to be concerned about that, too. She had never been worried about it before.

"I thought you'd be pleased," Daddy said. He looked heartbroken that Momma hadn't gotten more excited over his announcement.

"I am pleased. It's just. . . just so unusual for you, Cleave, to do anything spontaneous." Her voice sounded strange to me, brittle. "It takes a moment to get used to." She looked at me and after a moment, she laughed and we went on with our birthday celebration.

What a wonderful birthday this has been, I thought. And how perfect it was that Daddy had given me this diary in which to record these precious memories. It was as if he knew I would have so many special ones fins m now on and would want more than ever to put them down to save forever and forever.

Today I felt some of what it would be to feel like a woman instead of a little girl. Deep in my heart, I wondered if Daddy would still bring me home little presents and call me his little princess. Part of me feared that if I grew up his love for me would change, would lessen.

Momma came by after I had put out my lights and crawled into bed. She wanted to remind me about going to see Farthinggale Manor. I sensed how important it was to her that I like it. How could I not like the place she had described. It sounded like a fairy-tale kingdom.

And this Tony Tatterton . . he sounded like a king!

two AN ENCHANTED KINGDOM

. I was hoping Daddy would come along with us to see Momma's murals, but even though it was a weekend, he had to go down to his office. He usually spent Saturdays there and often a part of Sunday afternoon. This particular weekend he was more depressed than ever about his business because it looked certain that he would have to sell off one of his ocean liners and cut staff. Airline companies were expanding even faster than he had first thought they would and continued to eat away his clientele. He said the airlines were going to offer people gourmet meals on board, food even made by famous chefs, and that people were more and more in a rush to get places. I didn't want to tell him that some of my girlfriends at school were dreaming of becoming airline

stewardesses.

Momma told him to invest in something else besides steamships and luxury liners, but he shook his head and replied that that was all he knew.

"The captain goes down with his ship," he told me. "Right, Princess?" I felt terrible for him, but Momma didn't seem upset or concerned at all. She thought the new Caribbean cruises would help. She said she had been encouraging him to start them for some time.

"But like all men," she told me, "he hates to let a woman tell him what to do. Really," she said, "men never stop being little boys. They like to be babied and pampered, and they are always so stubborn."

I listened to what she said, but I didn't think Daddy was so stubborn, except about his office at home. But everyone is stubborn about something, I thought. Momma was stubborn about a lot of things too, and when I asked her about that, she said it was a woman's prerogative to be difficult at times. She said that it made men appreciate women more.

"Never let a man take you for granted," she advised. We were having this discussion on the way to Farthinggale Manor. Usually we had a driver take us places, but this time Momma wanted to drive herself.

It was a very bright and unusually warm day. Daddy said we were having an extended Indian summer and if it continued like this, we wouldn't see snow until January. I hoped we would see it for Christmas. It made such a difference to hear the sound of sleigh bells or hear the singing of carols while snowflakes fell. When I mentioned that to Momma, she laughed and said, "Tony Tatterton is planning to have a Christmas party and if Tony Tatterton wants to see snow on Christmas and it hasn't snowed, he'll have it flown in."

"He must be very, very rich!" I exclaimed. "When you feast your eyes on Farthy, and see the sports cars and Rolls-Royces, the Arabian horses and the grounds with the olympic-size pool, you'll understand why even that is an understatement," she said. We left the city and headed toward the ocean.

"Farthy? What's Farthy?"

"Oh," she laughed again, a thin, short laugh, the kind of sound people make when they are thinking of something quite private, something only they or someone close to them would appreciate. "It's Tony's nickname for his home. I told you, it's called Farthinggale Manor."

"It sounds like a storybook place. Only in stories do people name their homes."

"Oh no," Momma explained. "People with histories, with houses that have histories, really do name their homes. You'll see other grand estates, and I hope you'll meet these sorts of people more often now."