"You'll regret that slap, Catherine," he cried with more anger than he'd as yet shown. "Just as much as Corrine regretted all her sins. You, too, will live long enough to regret yours!"
I fled his room, fearing what he said was only too true.
The Traditional Foxworth
. On Christmas night our dinner was served around five in order to give the family plenty of time to prepare for the big event that would begin at ninethirty. Bart wore a glow of happiness. His warm hand reached to cover mine, sending a shock of pleasure through me, for so seldom did he show affection by touching. "If I can't have all my wealth right away, then I should have at least all the prestige due the owner of this house."
I smiled and covered the hand that held mine with my free hand. "Yes, I understand, and we'll do everything possible to see that your party is a huge success."
Joel sat nearby, sending out invisible vibes. He was smiling cynically. "Lord help those fools who deceive themselves," he muttered half under his breath. Bart closed his ears and pretended not to hear, but I was worried. Someone had broken Jory's clipper ship, which had been meant as a reconciliation gift to Bart. It had to be Joel who had heartlessly ruined that ship that Jory had slaved over for months and months. What else would he do?
My eyes met Joel's. I couldn't quite put my finger on how Joel looked at this moment, except sanctimonious. He daintily picked at his food, cutting his fruitcake into tiny morsels that he picked up with his long fingers. These he chewed with intense concentration, using only his front teeth, much as a rabbit ate a carrot.
"I'm going to bed now," announced Joel. "I don't approve of tonight's party, Bart, you might as well know that. Remember what happened at your birthday party, and you should have known better. Again I say it's a waste of good money entertaining people you don't know well enough. I also disapprove of people who drink, who cavort and act wild on a day meant for worship. This day belongs to the Lord and his son. We should all go down on our knees and stay there from dawn until midnight, like we did in my monastery, as we gave silent thanks for just being alive."
Since not one of us said a word, Joel went on. "I know drunken men and women will eventually try to fornicate with someone other than whom they came with. I remember your birthday party and what went on. Sinful modern life makes me realize how pure the world was when I was young. Nothing is the same as it used to be. People knew how to act decently in public then, no matter what they did behind closed doors. Now nobody cares who sees them do what. Women didn't bare their bosoms when I was a boy, nor pull up their skirts for every man who wanted them."
He riveted his cold blue eyes on me, and then on Cindy. "Those who sin, and sin again, always pay dearly, as some here should already know." Next he was staring at Jory meaningfully.
"The old son of a bitch," murmured Cindy, watching him slip out of the room with the same stealth as he had entered.
"Cindy, don't you ever let me hear you say anything like that again!" fired Bart. "Nobody uses obscenities under my roof."
"Well, I'll be damned!" flared Cindy. "Just the other day I overheard you calling Joel the same thing. And what's more, Bart Foxworth, I'll call a spade a spade-- even under your roof!"
"Go to ,your room and stay there!" bellowed Bart.
"Everybody continue having fun," said Jory,
guiding his chair toward the elevator. "As for me,
damned if I don't want to turn in my Christian
membership."
"You've never been a Christian to begin with,"
called Bart. "Nobody here goes to church. But there
will come a day in the near future when everyone here
will attend church."
Chris stood up and precisely put down his
napkin, fixing Bart and Cindy with commanding eyes.
"I've had enough of this childish quibbling. I'm
surprised that all of you who think you are adults can
revert to children in a wink of the eye."
But Jory was not to be stopped this time. He
wheeled his chair about abruptly, rage flaming his
usually controlled face, flaring wide his nostrils.