"I have already made the necessary
arrangements for you to attend Dogwood. My driver will take you to and from the school. I expect you to be on your best behavior there as well as here. Whatever you do there will again reflect on me. It happens to be one of the most prestigious private schools in the Southeast. Elizabeth Whitney, a descendant of Eli Whitney, the man who invented the cotton gin, is the headmistress and a dear friend of mine."
She sat forward, her eyes fixed on me more intently.
"It's been a long time since I've had anyone as young as you under my roof. My grandchildren, Megan's other offspring, don't come around that often."
I wanted to say maybe they don't feel welcome, but I kept my lips pasted.
"Teenagers are almost another species these days," she quipped. Then she rose. "We dress for dinner. I understand your mother has bought you the beginnings of a decent wardrobe?"
"I suppose," I said. "I don't spend money I don't have on fashion magazines."
She formed a wry smile.
"I'm sure she spent a lot of money and bought you the most up-to-date styles. Megan never worried much about spending. She was spoiled and she spoils her children."
"Why did you spoil her if you think it's so wrong?" I asked.
"I didn't. Be, father did. Anyway, it's too late for regrets. I don't wallow in the past. If you have grit, you step over your hardships."
Yes, I thought, if you have grit and money, lots of money, you can step over them.
"I hope you will have a similar attitude. Dinner is at six-thirty tonight," she added and started out. She paused in the doorway and looked back at me. "The things you have to do for your children," she muttered, shaking her head.
Wonderful, I thought. I just love feeling like someone's burden. I was tempted to just run out of the house, leaving all the new things behind. Maybe that's what she hoped I would do. Then she would be comfortable with her beliefs. She could go on and say I was just what she had expected and I behaved just the way she had predicted.
She was my grandmother and she did have steel flowing through her veins, but her blood had been passed on to me whether she liked it or not, I thought.
I'm not running.
I'm here, Grandmother. I can't call you that, but soon enough, yes, soon enough, you'll know I'm your granddaughter, and all the lies and phony smiles in the world won't change that one iota.
I turned and looked back at the eagle.
"I was wrong," I admitted. "I do know why I'm here. I'm here to teach that rich, important woman what family means."
The eagle looked impressed.
11
The Ties That Bind
.
As I sifted through my small but expensive
wardrobe, I felt like a frenzied moth madly circling the flame of a candle. Which was the correct dress or outfit to wear to dinner? What did my grandmother mean by "We dress for dinner?" I wanted to make the right choice just to prove that my background and upbringing didn't mean I had no style and no taste. Like the moth, I started toward what attracted me and then I pulled back as if I thought I might bum my fingers, sifted through the garments, and started to choose something else, only to hesitate. If I dressed too formally, would my grandmother laugh, call me ridiculous? If I put on this beautiful blouse and skirt, would she turn up the corners of her mouth and snap, "Didn't I
tell you we dress for dinner?"
Why, I paused to ask myself, was pleasing her suddenly so vital? She hadn't thought I was important enough to greet me as soon as I arrived, and she certainly didn't do much to make me feel welcome when we finally did meet. Usually, I despised someone as conceited and as condescending as she appeared to be. What would I gain by pleasing or impressing her? Could I ever do either to her satisfaction anyway? I was her daughter's mistake, a living example of the burden children lay upon their parents. She practically told me so to my face.
I stood back from the clothing, my arms folded under my breasts, fuming for a moment, and then, impulsively, with as much of a devil may care attitude as I could muster, I stabbed out and plucked the leather skirt and leather vest outfit. I chose it because I liked the way it looked on me and not because it would be what my grandmother would choose. It was something my mother had muttered when we were snaking our way through aisles and displays of garments in the department store: "If you please yourself first, you'll be happy and your happiness will make others feel good about you."
At first I thought that was a very selfish attitude, but after I thought about it awhile, I realized it made some sense. Whenever you were unhappy about yourself, you weren't good company, right? Look at Merilyn, for example. She was so sour on herself that she curdled everything around her.
I put on the cream silk blouse my mother had chosen to go with the leather outfit, found the matching shoes, and then concentrated on my hair, making sure it was primped and neat. When I gazed at myself in the mirror just before leaving my room to go down to dinner, I felt my heart thump in loud, quick beats. I looked fine, I told myself. I looked better than ever. She has to be impressed.