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Authors: Jean Nash

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BOOK: The Sea Star
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“How do you know that?” Dallas said harshly. “What do you know about Teddy, for that matter? He was the best friend I ever had. He always lent me money when I needed it, no questions asked. And if it hadn’t been for Jay—”

     
“Teddy lent you money? When?”

     
Dallas’s mouth tightened, and his eyes flickered away from hers. “Once or twice,” he mumbled. “Not much—a few dollars.”

     
“Dallas, you’re lying.”

     
He faced her again with that stony, guilty look.

     
Susanna rose abruptly. “Were you and Teddy stealing from Jay? Did you—“ She caught her breath as another thought occurred to her. “Dallas, dear God, did you have anything to do with the embezzlement in Baltimore?”

     
“Thank you very much,” he said bitterly. “The next thing you’ll accuse me of is murdering Alan Devlin.”

     
“How did you know his name?” she asked sharply.

     
“You told me,” he said, “when you told me about the embezzlement. Don’t you remember? You told me Jay’s finances were in such bad shape that you
had
to give him your half of the Sea Star so that he could mortgage it to raise money.”

     
“I never told you Alan’s name,” she persisted.

     
Dallas shrugged. “Then Teddy probably mentioned it when he told me about the embezzlement.”

     
“Why should he discuss such a thing with you?”

     
“Because we were friends, Sunny. Friends discuss things with each other. You wouldn’t know about that, would you? Your husband makes a habit of never telling you anything.”

     
“Be quiet about Jay!” she cried. “You never have a good word to say about him, but that doesn’t stop you from asking him for money.”

     
“No, it doesn’t,” he said coldly. “I’m his beloved wife’s brother. He should consider it a family duty to lend me money. And if you don’t want me to end up like Alan and Teddy, you’d better make it your business to convince Jay to give it to me.”

 

     
With a dread that kept raising the hairs on her arms, Susanna prepared that evening to ask Jay for the money. By no means did she approve of
Dallas
’s conduct. She was both appalled by his larceny and terrified of what Charley Smith might do to him if he learned of it. But Dallas was her brother. She loved him and would do anything in her power to protect him from harm. She would even go so far as to brave her husband’s wrath, though if given a choice, she would prefer to confront a lion in the wilds of Africa.

     
Jay had been gone since early morning, meeting with his new attorney, Ian Carmichael, in Sea Isle City, twenty miles south of Atlantic City. Carmichael had assisted Charles Landis in founding that community on Ludlam Bay, which was to have been a duplicate of Venice, the Italian jewel box of canals and cathedrals. This plan never quite succeeded. Sea Isle City turned out to be merely a smaller version of Ocean City. But Jay was so impressed with Ian’s handling of seemingly insurmountable legal difficulties that he had wooed him away from Landis by offering him a salary increase too great to refuse.

     
“Didn’t I tell you money talks?” Jay had said to Susanna when recounting his coup.

     
Yes, he had told her that—more than once. Why was it, Susanna thought, that so much in life depended on money?

 

     
Her plans for persuading Jay to lend Dallas the money were surprisingly methodical, despite the chaos that wreaked havoc with her thoughts. From the hotel kitchen she ordered all Jay’s favorites, including consommé à la Dubarry, spotted fish with Queen sauce, goose stuffed with sausages and chestnuts, and coffee mousse ice cream for dessert.

     
The wines, too, were chosen with care: Amontillado with the consommé, Perrier Jouët with the fish, and Romanée Conti with the entrée. It was Susanna’s hope that Jay would be so filled with good food and wine that his anger toward Dallas—and perhaps toward her—would be somewhat mitigated.

     
If that failed, she was planning to use feminine wiles on him. Although her pregnancy was advanced, her figure was still slender save for the rising curve of her abdomen. That, however, was easily remedied. She put on a Nile green negligee, cut low in the bodice and banded beneath the breast in the Empire mode. She considered wearing the diamond comb to further weaken Jay’s defenses, then decided against it. Instead, she loosened her hair, brushed it until it shone like burnished copper, then coaxed one shining ringlet to curl provocatively on the curve of her half-exposed breast. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she had the uneasy feeling that she looked like a courtesan.

 

     
Jay returned at eight, frozen to the bone. He shed his hat and greatcoat, went directly to the fireplace and stood warming his hands over the welcome heat of the fire. Susanna was in the bedroom, nervously stroking the kitten on her lap, as she gathered the courage to greet her unsuspecting husband.

     
“Susanna! Are you home?”

     
Reluctantly she rose, put down the kitten, and moved slowly to the door. A vague resentment skittered through her mind. Home? This wasn’t their home. They didn’t have a home. This was only a hotel suite, no matter how luxurious, and all the money in the world wouldn’t make it a home.

     
“Here I am, sweetheart,” she said brightly, entering the sitting room. She went to her husband, wound her arms around his neck and kissed him lingeringly on the mouth. “I’m glad you’re back,” she murmured, moving sensuously against him. “I’ve missed you unbearably.”

     
Jay held her a moment, then he moved back a bit to inspect her attire with an approving smile. “My dear wife, how extraordinarily seductive you look tonight. If I’d known what was waiting for me, I would have ended the meeting hours ago.”

     
“Did all go well?” Susanna linked her arm through his and directed him to the sideboard, which was laden with covered warming trays.

     
“Yes,” Jay said. “I think Ian and I are going to get on well. What’s this?” He gestured at the food. “A banquet?”

     
“It’s a treat I planned for you,” Susanna said, nuzzling her cheek against his sleeve, “because I missed you so much.”

     
Jay raised an eyebrow and eyed her suspiciously. “What devilment are you up to, my wily enchantress? I think you want something from me. What is it? Something for the Sea Star?”

     
“Let’s not talk about it now.” She avoided his searching gaze. “Come, let’s eat. I’ve ordered all your favorites.”

     
Susanna switched off the electric lights and lit the two candles that flanked the table’s centerpiece, a bowl of crimson Aztec lilies from the Excelsior’s greenhouse. They filled their plates and sat down. The setting was romantic, the food delicious. Jay ate with gusto. Susanna barely touched a morsel. Throughout the meal, she talked and laughed vivaciously in order to conceal the tremors of apprehension that rippled through her.

     
When at last she poured coffee into pearly translucent cups, Jay lighted a cigarette, leaned back in his chair, and asked quietly, “Will you tell me now what’s on your mind? I’ve been expecting you to jump out of your skin all evening.”

     
She put down the coffee pot with a look of dismay. She hadn’t fooled him after all. How silly of her to have thought it possible to do so. Jay had always been able to read even her most secret thoughts.

     
“I.... What I’m about to say is going to make you angry,” she ventured nervously. “I’m angry about it, too, Jay, but I beg you to be understanding.”

     
“I’ll try,” he said, watching her.

     
“It’s about
Dallas
.”

     
She expected the storm to break, but Jay only said impassively, “I rather thought it was. What is it now?”

     
“It’s....” A vein was throbbing furiously at her temple. “It’s money again. Twelve thousand dollars.”

     
Jay’s eyes looked very dark in the candlelight. Susanna tensed, and he saw it. Crushing out his cigarette in an ashtray, he said evenly, “That’s a great deal of money.”

     
“Yes, yes,” she gabbled, relieved by his apparent calm. “But, you see, Jay, if you give it to him this time, I know it will be the last. Dallas can’t be so stupid as to think he can keep getting away with what he’s doing.”

     
“He admitted stealing from Charley Smith?”

     
“Not in so many words. But when I accused him of it, guilt was written all over his face.”

     
“I see.”

     
She started to say more, to tell Jay of her momentary suspicion that Dallas had been involved in the embezzlement scheme in Baltimore. Good sense prevented her from confiding such a thing. Besides, the very idea was ludicrous.

     
With a finger, Jay traced a path around the rim of his coffee cup. Susanna, on the edge of her seat, tried to guess his thoughts and failed.

     
“You will lend him the money, Jay? Dallas said—” She broke off, too upset to say more.

     
Jay saw her face pale. Only the sudden tightening of his jaw betrayed his emotions. “What did he say, Susanna?”

     
“He said if I didn’t want him to end up like Alan and Teddy, I’d better make sure you gave him the money.”

     
Her face went even whiter, her mouth quivered. Jay rose quickly, went to her and drew her into his arms. “Stop worrying,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll take care of it, Susanna.”

     
“Oh, Jay,” she said, “I was so scared you’d be angry.”

     
“I’m not angry,” he assured her. “I promise you. Now I want you to stop worrying about your brother. Just leave everything to me.”

     
“Jay, thank you.” Her eyes stung with tears of relief. “It means so much to me that you—”

     
“Dear God, don’t thank me,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Don’t you know there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you? Don’t you know yet how much I love you?”

     
“Yes, I do,” she said, reaching up to kiss his mouth. “But, Jay....” A pang of guilt assailed her. “I’m afraid I owe you an apology.”

     
“An apology? For what reason?”

     
“I thought you’d refuse to help
Dallas
,” she said, repentant. “I misjudged you so badly, and I’m sorry I did. But I was so worried about
Dallas
.”

     
“Don’t apologize.” His voice was gentle but his eyes were curiously hard. “I’m going to see to it that your brother never worries you again.”

 

Eighteen

     
Susanna’s child was born on April 3, a day so balmy, with blinding blue skies laced with trailing white clouds, that it was easy to deceive oneself that spring had arrived.

     
As Ford had confidently predicted, she had a son. He was born on the stroke of noon. Dr. Griffith, who attended Susanna in her bedroom at the Excelsior, said he wished all his patients’ deliveries could be as trouble-free as hers.

     
An hour after the birth she was sitting up in bed, her hair freshly brushed and held back with a satin ribbon, her beautiful son sleeping contentedly in her arms. Jay stood at the side of the bed, looking down at his heir with a blend of love and awe that brought a lump to Susanna’s throat.

     
Jay touched the infant’s cheek and his sweet milk-stained mouth. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” he said in a soft, wondering voice. “A few hours ago he was an abstraction, something I could only imagine. And now, here he is, warm and breathing, a tiny living thing. I never dreamed I’d be so—”

     
He laughed, as if embarrassed by his show of emotion.

     
“He looks just like you,” Susanna said softly. “See how dark his hair is. And he has your stubborn chin. I wonder what he’ll be like when he grows up.”

     
“He’s going to have everything,” Jay said, gazing down at him with the fierce possessive look Susanna knew well. “He’ll go to the best schools, know all the right people. There won’t be anything he wants that he can’t have.”

     
“Jay, I don’t want to spoil him.”

     
“Having everything doesn’t spoil a child, Susanna. Not being able to have what one wants is what spoils and eventually destroys a man.”

     
“That’s not true,” she said gently, sensing his thoughts. “Look what you’ve done with your life. If your father hadn’t lost his money, do you think you’d be what you are today?”

     
Jay continued to look at his son. “That’s impossible to answer, Susanna. Besides, I never think about the past.”

     
But Susanna knew otherwise. Jay thought too much about the past, far more than he should or was good for him.

 

     
They named the child Courtney, which had been Jay’s mother’s maiden name, and which rather surprised Susanna.

     
“Don’t you want to name him after your father?” she asked Jay when their son was a few days old.

     
“My father’s name was Reginald,” Jay said. “That’s too pompous a name for this little fellow. Courtney Grainger has a nice ring to it. It will look grand in both the society and financial pages of the newspapers.”

     
As each day passed, as Courtney grew bigger and as beautiful as both his parents, the concept of fatherhood became more of a reality to Jay. He changed before Susanna’s eyes. Where before he’d been restless, driven, he now seemed completely at peace with himself, as if the gods had bestowed on him a priceless gift which he’d never even thought to desire.

     
Augusta
noticed the change in him.

     
“What’s come over that husband of yours?” she asked Susanna in July, on the day of the christening. “I’ve never seen a man so wrapped up in a child. I had thought that nothing could take first place over Jay’s hotels, but I see I was mistaken.”

     
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Susanna said, gazing with love at her husband across the room.

     
They were in one of the Excelsior’s large private dining rooms, following the church ceremony. Many of Jay’s friends and business associates had traveled from points up and down the Eastern Seaboard to celebrate the happy occasion. There were Vanderbilts present, and Astors and van Rensselaers. Even Robert Weston, pale, thin almost to the point of emaciation, had put in an appearance with his wife.

     
Jay’s sisters and their families were there, too. At the church, Cornelia in her shrewish way had made it a point to comment on Courtney’s early arrival.
Augusta
had retorted, “What difference does it make when he was born? He’s your brother’s son. That’s all that should concern you.”

     
Susanna had felt vindicated by the look of indignant shock on Cornelia’s face. And now,
Augusta
’s comments about Jay’s devotion to his son crowned her enjoyment of the day.

     
“This is what he needs, Mother,” she went on, “a family of his own. Jay’s been driving himself for years to attain money and success, but I think he was really striving to restore the continuity that was broken when his mother and brother died.”

     
“That’s too deep for me, darling,”
Augusta
said. “All I know is, Jay has finally become the sort of son-in-law I’ve always hoped I’d have.”

     
“I love you.” Susanna squeezed her mother’s hand.

     
Augusta
’s eyes misted. She said in a tremulous voice, “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.”

     

Too
long,” Susanna said ruefully. “I was beastly to you when you first came home, Mother, and for a long time afterwards. Now I realize that each person has his own private hell. It’s easy to condemn what one doesn’t understand.”

     
“Oh, my dearest!”
Augusta
embraced her tightly. “I’ve always loved you. For years I wished that I had died before ever hurting you as I did.”

     
“Mother, don’t.”

     
Guiltily, Susanna moved out of her embrace. If any wrong had been committed, she felt that she was as equally at fault as her mother. She had the strongest urge to say that she knew now of her father’s brutality. She knew why
Augusta
had been forced to leave home. But she felt that this was not the time to talk of such matters. And more, she felt that
Augusta
might be embarrassed that Susanna knew of her shame.

     
“Let’s forget about the bad times,” she said gently. “Our relationship begins from this moment. Whatever happened in the past has no place in our future.”

     
“How wise you are, Susanna.”
Augusta
pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “‘To err is human. To forgive is divine.’”

     
“Erring” and “forgiving” raised an unpleasant memory for Susanna. “Mother,” she said, “is Ford still angry with Jay? They were cordial when they greeted each other today, but I’m wondering if they only behaved that way for form’s sake.”

     
“I honestly don’t know, Susanna. Ford was very angry with Jay for a time. Now...well, he doesn’t talk about him much.”

     
Augusta
seemed to want to say more, but did not.

     
“Mother, go on. You were going to say something else.”

     
“Susanna, Ford was terribly bitter about
Bob
by. Do you see how ghastly he looks?” She inclined her head in Robert Weston’s direction. He stood talking to Jay across the room. “I don’t know how he made the trip, poor fellow. He looks as if he can hardly stand upright. In any case, Ford blamed Jay for
Bob
by’s drinking. He said to me once, ‘When my brother dies, Jay had better not come to the funeral. He saw
Bob
by buried once. There’s no need for him to see it a second time.’”

     
“Oh, Mother,” Susanna said compassionately.

     
“Ford was rabid on the subject for a long time,”
Augusta
said. “Lately, though, he seems to have come to terms with
Bob
by’s problem. Maybe that’s a good sign, Susanna. Maybe, like you and I, Jay and Ford will put the past behind them.”

 

     
Susanna hoped that would prove true, but she doubted it. Ford and Augusta and Robert Weston and his wife spent a few days in
Atlantic City
after the christening. While Robert, a touchingly gentle man, apparently bore Jay no ill will, it was obvious to Susanna that Ford’s amiability toward his former friend and employer was a facade.

     
One sultry morning, the three couples were strolling on the Boardwalk, when they came in sight of Captain John L. Young’s new seven-story apartment house on
Tennessee Avenue
.

     
“What do you think of that?” Jay asked the two men, fanning his flushed face with his straw boater. “An apartment house right on the Boardwalk. Every one of the 112 units was leased before the building was even completed. And I hear that Young is charging astronomical monthly rents. Perhaps I should think of diversifying.”

     
“You should!” Robert said enthusiastically. In the cruel light of day, his pale face looked like a sun-bleached skull. “If anyone can make a success of it, Jay, you can.”

     
“Yes,” Ford agreed lightly, though his eyes were hard as flint. “Why don’t you form a partnership with Young, Jay? If I know you, in no time at all, the place will be solely yours.”

     
Jay laughed and said he would think about it.

     
But that night, alone with Susanna in their suite at the Excelsior, he said to her in a fury, “God damn him to hell for all eternity.”

     
“Who?” Susanna asked, afraid he was speaking of
Dallas
.

     
“Who else?” he said impatiently. “Ford. He behaves as if he’d never in his life strayed from the path of virtue. I could tell you things about that man—“ He broke off with a muttered oath and reached into his coat pocket.

     
“What things, Jay?”

     
He didn’t answer. He searched through his pockets.

     
“Jay, what are you looking for?”

     
“My cigarette case. I must have left it in the restaurant.”

     
He went to the telephone and clicked the switch hook twice. “O’Brien? Did anyone turn in a cigarette case tonight? Well, take a look around, would you? Yes, it’s mine. There’s an inscription inside, some lines of poetry. If you find it, send someone up with it. I’ll be home all evening.”

     
He replaced the receiver and turned back to Susanna. “What were we talking about?”

     
“Ford.”

     
“Ah, yes.” His tone was bitter. “Ford.”

     
He went to the window, drew back the curtain, and looked out on the shimmering ocean. Susanna rose from the fireside chair and went to him.

     
“Jay, you never did tell me why you and Ford parted.”

     
“Forgive me, Susanna, but I’d rather not discuss it.”

     
She was hurt, but she said nothing. There were some things about her husband she was going to have to learn to live with.

     
But then, the hurt she felt quickly turned into pique. Why must she forever bend to his will? What of
her
will? What of her needs, her wishes? Must she abnegate them always in deference to his?

     
“Jay,” she said abruptly, “I want a house.”

     
“A house? What are you talking about?”

     
“A house, Jay. A place where families live alone, not with concierges and bellboys and housemaids and waiters. Four walls and a roof, with a yard and garden, where we can have some privacy for once in our lives. Where we can raise our son like a normal human being. That’s what a house is, and that’s where I want to live.”

     
“What brought this on all of a sudden?”

     
“It’s not all of a sudden. I’ve been thinking about it for months.”

     
“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

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