“Really, Audrina, I know that.” Her dark eyes were cold as she looked me up and down, telling me in her own silent, eloquent way that I was no competition for her. “Unlike you, sweet Audrina, I have friends in the village who keep me posted as to what goes on here. I wish I could say I was sorry, but I can’t. Ellsbeth Whitefern was never a real mother to me, was she? Your mother was kinder.”
She turned around slowly and exhaled a long withheld breath. “Wow! Would you look at this place! Like a palace. Who would have ever thought dear Papa would be idiot enough to fix up an old house like this. He could have bought two new ones for what it cost to restore this monstrosity.”
Standing midway up the stairs, I tried to regain some lost composure. “Did you come back for some reason?”
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Smiling, she cocked her head to one side and scanned over me again, then laughed. “No, I can tell you aren’t. Are you still afraid of me, Audrina? Afraid your boy husband might find a real woman twice as appealing as a modest, shy bride who can’t really give him any pleasure? Just looking at you in that white dress tells me you haven’t changed. It’s November, little girl. Wintertime. The season for bright colors, parties, good cheer and holidays, and you wear a white dress.” Mockingly she laughed again. “Don’t tell me your husband is no lover at all and you are still Papa’s pure little darling.”
“It’s a wool dress, Vera. The color is called winter-white. It’s an expensive dress that Arden selected for me himself. He likes for me to wear white.”
“Of course he does,” she said even more mockingly. “He indulges your need to stay a sweet little girl. Poor Audrina, the sweet and chaste. Audrina the pure and virginal. Dear Audrina, the obedient little darling who can do no wrong.”
“What do you want, Vera?” I asked, feeling very cold. I sensed danger, felt Vera’s threat. I wanted to order her out of the house. Go, leave me alone. Give me time to grow up, to find the woman that’s hidden somewhere in me.
“I’ve come home for Thanksgiving,” said Vera smoothly, in that same sexy voice she must have copied from someone she admired, as she’d tried once to talk like a TV actress. “And if you’re nice to me, really nice, as a family member should be, then I’ll stay on for Christmas, too. It’s really not very hospitable of you to keep me standing in the foyer while my bags are on the porch. Where’s Arden? He can carry in my luggage.”
“My husband is working, Vera, and you can bring in your own bags. Papa won’t be happy to see you. I suppose you must know that.”
“Yes, Audrina,” she said in that smooth, hateful voice. “I know that. But I want to see Papa. He owes me a great deal—and I intend to have what belongs to my mother, and what belongs to me.”
A small scuttling sound made me look toward the back hall to see Billie shoveling along on her little red dolly cart. As if she’d just seen a mouse, Vera jumped backward and nearly lost her footing because of that thick sole. Her gloved hand reached to smother her cry. Her other hand stretched forward as if to ward off contamination. I watched her struggle to gain her composure as the small half-woman, twice as old and three times as beautiful as Vera, looked at her appraisingly and with a great deal of self-composure. I admired Billie for holding her own.
Then, to my amazement, Vera smiled brilliantly at my mother-in-law. “Oh, of course. How can I have forgotten Billie Lowe. How are you, Mrs. Lowe?”
Cheerfully Billie greeted Vera. “Why, hello there. You’re Vera, aren’t you? How beautiful you look. How nice you’ve come home for the holidays. You’re just in time for lunch. Your old room is clean, and all I have to do is put on fresh linens and you’ll feel right at home.” She looked upward to give me a special warm smile. “Well, Audrina, that itchy nose of yours really did herald a visitor after all.”
“Do you live here, too?” asked Vera, rather taken aback. Someone in the village didn’t know everything that went on in Whitefern.
“Oh, yes,” gushed Billie happily. “This is the most wonderful house I’ve ever been lucky enough to call home. Damian has been absolutely marvelous to me. He’s given me the rooms that used to belong to”—here she hesitated, looking a bit embarrassed—“your mother.” Her appealing look at Vera touched my heart. “At first I thought it was wrong to take such a grand suite of rooms when Audrina might want them, but Audrina hasn’t said a word to make me feel I’m usurping anyone’s place. What’s more, Damian carried over all the things I wanted from the cottage himself. He did that the very day Arden and Audrina eloped.”
Billie gave me another loving smile. “Come, darlin’, it’s time for lunch. Sylvia is already at the table. There’s plenty for all of us.”
“Help me bring in my luggage, Audrina,” said Vera, abruptly turning to head toward the porch, as if tired of responding to all the warmth and good cheer Billie showed her. “I’ll be leaving in a few weeks
, so you don’t have to look so bothered. I don’t want your husband.”
“Because you have your own?” I asked hopefully.
Laughing, she half turned to grin at me with Papa’s own cunning. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But no, I don’t have my own. Lamar Rensdale was a miserable failure who took the easy way out once things got rough. What a coward he proved to be. No talent at all once you took him away from the provinces. Do you still play the piano?”
No, I didn’t practice on the piano anymore. There was too much to do. But as I helped Vera bring in her three bags, carrying two while she carried one, I vowed that when I had the time I’d find another music teacher and pick up where I’d left off. “Vera, I’d like to hear more about Lamar Rensdale. He was very kind to me, and I’m sorry he’s dead.”
“Later,” said Vera, following me up the stairs. “After we eat, we’ll have a nice long talk while we wait for Papa to come home and rejoice at seeing me again.”
On the way to her room we found Sylvia riding Billie’s cart, shoveling along with some expertise. “Sylvia, take Billie’s cart back to the kitchen. You have no right to use it even when she isn’t. Any moment she may want to hop down and her cart won’t be there.” I reached to pull Sylvia from the dolly. If there was one thing that made Sylvia stubborn and hateful, it was taking from her that little red cart she wanted for her own.
“Good God,” exclaimed Vera, staring at Sylvia as if at some creature in a zoo, “why waste your breath on an idiot? Why not just shove her off and be done with it?”
“Sylvia is not as retarded as Papa led us to believe,” I said innocently enough. “Bit by bit she’s learning to talk.”
For some reason Vera turned to stare at Sylvia with narrowed, suspicious eyes, distaste clear on her face. “God almighty, this house is full of freaks. A legless woman and a stammering moron.”
“As long as you’re in this house, you will not refer to Sylvia as a moron, idiot or freak. And you will treat Billie with the respect due her, or else I’m sure that Papa will kick you out. And if he doesn’t, then I will.”
Appearing surprised, Vera smiled weakly, then turned her back and strode on into her old room to unpack.
I was silent at lunch as Billie did her best to welcome Vera home. Vera looked sophisticated in the lovely beige knit dress she’d changed into. The soft color flattered her complexion, which seemed not as sallow as it had once been. Her makeup was expertly applied, her hair styled to perfection while mine was windblown and wild appearing. My nails were short and unpolished since I had to help Billie with the housekeeping. Every one of my imperfections rose up like mountains as I stared at Vera.
“I’m sorry about your mother, Vera,” said Billie. “I hope you don’t mind if Audrina told me all about that. She is like my own daughter, the one I always wanted to have.”