Love Among the Walnuts
Copyright © 1998 by Jean Ferris
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Excerpt from
Twice Upon a Marigold
copyright © 2008 by Jean Ferris
First Harcourt paperback edition 2008
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Ferris, Jean, 1939–
Love among the walnuts/Jean Ferris,
p. cm.
Summary: Born and raised in isolation in a wealthy, eccentric family,
Sandy is shocked when he, his parents, and their servants become
victims of a vicious plot by his greedy uncles to incapacitate
them and take their money.
[1. Crime—Fiction. 2. Wealth—Fiction. 3. Uncles—Fiction.]
I. Title.
PZ7.F4174Lr 1998
[Fic]—dc21 97-50291
ISBN 978-0-15-201590-9
ISBN 978-0-15-206227-9 pb
Text set in Sabon
Designed by Camilla Filancia
DOM C E G H F D B
Printed in the United States of America
Part OneTo the memory of
JACKIE DEWEY EVERINGHAM
who named this book
and who knew plenty about love
CHAPTER 1
Once upon a time there was a very wealthy young man named Horatio Alger Huntington-Ackerman. When he was a little boy he liked the fact that his initials spelled HAHA, because he found that in spite of some problems with his family, there was a lot to laugh about. But as he grew up and made his vast fortune and dealt with the world, it seemed that there were fewer and fewer things to feel HAHA about.
Two of the things that were making his enjoyment of life less than it had been were his brothers, Bartholemew Algernon Huntington (who hadn't gotten along with his father and so didn't use the Ackerman) and Bernard Aloysius Ackerman (who hadn't gotten along with his mother and so didn't use the Huntington). Interestingly, both the brothers' initials made the same sound, though spelled differently.
Bart and Bernie were younger than Horatio, and when they were children they had all gotten along well. Horatio was the big brother and so tried to be a good example for his younger siblings. But when they grew up, Bart and Bernie were unable to duplicate Horatio's splendid successes, and they became jealous and mean-spirited. Horatio enjoyed their company less and less, until one day, he discovered he didn't enjoy it at all.
Although Horatio lived in an elegant town house in the choicest midtown location near his office buildings, stockbrokers, banks, financial advisers, lawyers, tax accountants, and health club, he gradually came to realize that all these things—considered by many (including Bart and Bernie) to be among the finest life had to offer—were not making him as happy as he had been in his childhood, when he had had none of them.
Furthermore, it upset his digestion to spend all day wearing a three-piece suit and watching other men and women struggle to achieve what he had, sometimes by means of which he couldn't approve. When he tried to tell them that what he had achieved was no guarantee of happiness, they said, "Of course not, we know that." But he could tell by the look in their eyes that they didn't believe him.
There were more and more days when it was difficult for Horatio to leave his elegant town house; more and more days when he put on his maroon silk dressing gown and went into his library instead of going to work. He took down from the tall dark shelves the books from his childhood that had given him such pleasure:
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Treasure Island, Peter Pan, The Wind in the Willows,
and The Chronicles of Narnia. He sat in his deep, leather wing chair and read his books and a smile appeared on his lips—a smile that was absent when he was in his office.
Horatio realized, of course, that this was not a healthy thing for him to be doing. He was a young man with a successful business empire that was making him lots of money. He had many acquaintances, which some people regard as the same as having many friends, and invitations to more things than he could possibly attend. He was also quite nice looking and talented at other things besides making money. He could play the guitar, model lifelike animals from clay, and play pool like a professional.
Bentley, his valet, worried about him. He suggested endless games of pool. He bought pounds of clay, which lay untouched in the studio. He brought home new guitar music. He planned parties, trips to art galleries, and excursions to the park and the movies.
Horatio sometimes agreed to go, but he was always glad to get home again, to his library and his old books.
One day Bentley presented Horatio with two tickets to
Social Service,
the hottest new musical in town. Tickets were expensive and almost impossible to get, and Bentley had gone to a lot of trouble to obtain them.
"It's supposed to be the best show in years, Horatio," Bentley said. "Who would you like me to call to go with you?"
"Why don't you use the tickets, Bentley?" Horatio asked. "Take Flossie. I'll even treat you both to dinner any place you want."
"I got these tickets for
you,
" Bentley said. "And you must use them. You can't keep sitting around here moping and reading in that dark library. You've got to get back out into the world."
"Why?" Horatio asked. "I've got more money than anybody could sensibly want. There's no reason to make any more. The world is an ugly place, full of crime and pollution. Not to mention Bart and Bernie." He shuddered at the thought of them. "I've decided to stay as far away from it as possible."
He hadn't actually decided any such thing, but the minute he said that, he knew it was what he
bad
decided to do. "You go," he said to Bentley. "Take Flossie. She'll love it."
Bentley had been engaged to Flossie for eleven years. He loved her dearly and definitely intended to marry her someday, just as soon as he quit being afraid that marriage meant the end of romance.
"No," Bentley said firmly. "These tickets are for you, and you're going to use them if I have to carry you there on my back. If you won't go with anybody else,
I'll
go with you."
Horatio sighed, knowing he would have to go to avoid hurting Bentley's feelings, but dreading the thought of getting all dressed up, being driven through the city traffic in the Daimler, and fighting the crowds at the theater. The trip would be even worse if somebody recognized him. Then a crowd would gather and the people would want to touch him and get his autograph; and strange women would give him their phone numbers. He wished Bentley would leave him alone.
The night of the play, Horatio did his best. He got dressed in his tuxedo and his shiny patent leather shoes, and the outfit did make him feel a little better. Shuffling around in his dressing gown was a lonely and gloomy thing to do.
The traffic wasn't too bad, and the Daimler was quiet and comfortable and air-conditioned. People recognized him in the lobby of the theater, but they were polite and respectful for once.
The play was about a wealthy and eccentric woman who was a social crusader. She was so busy she had time only for her work, and she had a fleet of young women to do everything else for her. One chewed her gum for her, one carried her purse for her, one dressed and undressed her, one held the telephone so she could write with both hands while she talked on the phone.
The wealthy woman wanted only beauty around her because she thought ugliness was distracting and interfered with her work. Therefore, all her helpers were gorgeous and wore beautiful things. One of the woman's eccentricities was requiring the young women to wear only white clothing, and white fur coats. (The fur was fake because she didn't want real animals dying for the coats.) The white clothes were made of the finest silks and satins and cottons, lavish with lace and ribbons and ruffles.
The young woman who held the telephone captured Horatio's attention from the beginning of the play. With her glossy brown curls and thick dark eyelashes, she wasn't any more beautiful than any of the others, but her eyes seemed friendly, and the corners of her mouth, even in repose, turned up in a smile.
Only someone with a smile inside herself could look like that,
Horatio thought.
At intermission he searched the program for her name, but since the actresses didn't have speaking parts, they were all lumped together under the heading of
HELPERS
. Was she Fifi Fernandez? Poodles Pennington? Fleur LaRoche? Mousey Malone?
The minute the curtain closed at the end of the play, he ran backstage, with a bewildered Bentley hurrying behind him. They burst into the dressing room where the actresses were taking off their makeup and changing their clothes. Bentley, enjoying the shrieks and scurrying, was glad he hadn't brought Flossie. Horatio noticed nothing but his beautiful, smiling girl.
She sat at a dressing table, her fingers in a jar of cold cream. Horatio took her hands, not even noticing the cold cream squeezed between his fingers and hers, and said into her surprised face, "Fleur?"
She shook her head and the ends of her smile turned up a little.
"Poodles?" he asked.
She shook her head again and smiled a little more.
"Then it's Fifi?"
Again she shook her head. "Mousey," she said in a small and squeaky voice. "Mousey Malone."
Being treated to the full power of Mousey's smile was like walking into a rainbow. "Mousey Malone," Horatio said, dazed. "What a beautiful name. My name is Ho ... ah, Homer Smith. Mousey, please have dinner with me. I've something important I must talk to you about."
"Are you an honest man, Homer Smith? An honorable man? A respectful man?" she asked earnestly.
"Oh yes, I am."
"Then I'd love to," she squeaked, gently removing her slippery hands from his. "I'll meet you outside."
Horatio paced in the hall in front of the dressing room. "Bentley, have you ever seen a more beautiful girl? Have you ever seen a more beautiful smile? That girl has the secret for finding joy in life, I know it. Nobody could smile like that if she didn't know where to find joy. I have a feeling she's the answer."
"What's the question?" Bentley asked, pleased, though somewhat startled that his plan to cheer Horatio up had worked even better than he'd hoped.
Horatio ignored him. "I feel better right now than I have in months. I want to marry that girl, Bentley. I
need
to marry her." He stopped pacing and took the lapels of Bentley's tuxedo in his hands. "Do you think she'd have me? I know this is sudden but my business hunches are never wrong; and I don't think this hunch is wrong, either. Do you think she'd be interested?"
Bentley looked at his crumpled lapels. "Maybe. You're young, rich, handsome, honest, unaffected, sincere, and well educated. Though why she'd want to give up a career as a struggling actress who can't get a speaking part in a play, I wouldn't know."