Into the Woods (DeBeers 4)

Afterward the three of us walked on the beach. There was a full moon, and the light streaming down from the night sky made the water gleam as if it had been sprayed with glitter. First Kirby had her arm in his, and then he reached out for me, and the three of us were joined with him in the center.

"My two beautiful women." he declared. "We'll turn this place into a palace of happiness. You hear that. Palm Beach? This will be a palace of joy!" he screamed, and waved his fist in the direction of Worth Avenue,

Mommy's laughter was lifted by the breeze and carried out to sea. I took a deep breath and secretly prayed that all she expected would happen and once again she would feel she had defeated cruel fate.

Taking a cue from Kirby's enthusiasm, she launched an entirely new campaign to defeat those in the Palm Beach social world who had dared to snub her. She and Kirby began to stage party after party, each gala affair more extravagant than the previous. If we had a five piece band for one event, we had a twenty-six-piece orchestra for the next. Whoever was the rage in catering at the moment was hired and told to spare no expense in creating dishes that were unique and, especially, "not at anyone else's party."

Far one party they hired two dozen performers: magicians, singing groups, fortune tellers and psychics, dancers who went through the crowd of guests. staging mini shows. Of course. we had spotlights and hired one party designer after another to create a different theme for each event.

Soon Joya del Mar did become known as the party capital. The gala events were so lavish people wanted to be invited if for no other reason than just to have said they had experienced one of Jackie and Kirby's extravaganzas. To get themselves invited, some invited Mommy and Kirby to their affairs, but there wasn't the sort of quid pro qua Mommy had anticipated. She was still not on the A-list, and she couldn't throw off the sense that she was still being treated like an outsider, almost freakishly, as a curiosity, a subject for lunch gossip.

I had no idea how much money Mommy was spending on her own parties until I happened to overhear her having a conversation with her business manger. It was obvious he was warning her about depleting the principal of some of the best

investments Winston had made.

"These parties are a different sort of

investment." she told him. "To my way of thinking what they will bring in return is worth it."

I tried to talk to her about the money issues, but she always waved me off.

"Kirby is better at that sort of thing than I am anyway." she said. He thinks our financial advisors are from the old school and are far too conservative, old-fashioned."

"Why didn't Winston think that?" I asked.

"Winston was ninety percent retired. honey. Kirby has his ear to the wall and knows what's really happening out there," she assured me.

I didn't like the sound of that. If he was so good at this, why wasn't he a wealthy man himself? I wondered, but I didn't ask her any more questions. She was floating in such a big, pink bubble I hated to be the one to cause it to burst.

Bubbles were something else I thought had become too much in her life as well. Never a big drinker. Mommy was suddenly very much into expensive champagnes. She and Kirby went to wine auctions and bid on rare vintages for our wine cooler. They included bottles of champagne that cost as much as two thousand dollars each.

This will take the smirks off the faces of the Carriage sisters!" she cried, "We'll pop one open right in front of them next party,"

Almost every night she and Kirby had some affair planned or someplace to go, all of them involving champagne, wine, and a new drink Kirby introduced her to. He called it a New York

Cosmopolitan, and it involved vodka. Mommy wasn't good with hard liquor. If she drank too much she would get maudlin and then sometimes belligerent. I hated to see her drinking at all. Over time it was beginning to take its toll on her looks. too. She would sleep later and later into the morning and drag herself about, shoving pills dawn her throat to drive away headaches. Whenever I tried to point out this slow but consistent degeneration, she turned on me and moaned about my prudishness or my failure to enjoy my youth.

"I never had a chance to be young and foolish," she declared, as if that was something everyone should be. "I had to be the perfect naval wife, and then I was given all these new burdens. Just when I thought we were fine, fate comes and takes Winston. What difference does it make to be good? In the end we all find ourselves staring into the same dark space. At least Kirby makes me feel alive and young and beautiful, and everything we're doing is fun. Grace. Fun, do you hear me? Do you?" she cried, her eyes wide with near hysteria.

"Okay," I said softly, and retreated. There wasn't anything more I could do about it. She would have to come to her own conclusions about

everything. I thought, and I hoped and prayed she would be

fore it was too late.

As it turned out. I should have thought more about myself in the midst of all this anyway.

From the very beginning Kirby led Mommy and me to believe that he had decided to make me a priority, his new cause.

"If I bring anything to this marriage and family." he said one night at dinner when the three of us were alone. "I hope it will be doing things that make Grace a happier and more confident young woman."

Mommy looked at him adoringly as he made this pronouncement and then raised his wine glass to toast me. I wanted to say that when he talked about me like that he made me feel like a disabled person. but I could also see how much Mommy believed in him and appreciated what he was saying and trying to do.

I was always skeptical of Kirby or at least tried to be. If I was to be honest with myself I would have to blame myself as well as him for anything that happened. Maybe I'm too hard on myself, but I can't help believing in the old admonition. "buyer beware." I would just change it to "believer beware."

After Mommy had returned from their elopement and practically begged me to give Kirby a chance and have more confidence in myself. I did wonder if I wasn't being unfair to him and to her, for that matter. A part of me wanted to believe in him and wanted it so much it drowned out warnings from the other part of me.

Where Winston had been fatherly, laving, as supportive as a father should be. Kirby was more like an older brother, closer to acting and thinking like someone my age.