Willow (20 page)

It sounded like you said yes.
I
hope it was a critique of our lovemaking," he kidded.
"More than that.
It
was a critique of the whole night," I said.
He laughed. "So, did I succeed?"
"With what?"
"Getting you to reconsider whether you would leave or not?" he asked.
"Maybe that was why I said yes." I told him, and he smiled and kissed me again.
He didn't leave for another hour. I assured him that as soon as I was up, packed, and checked out.
I
would drive to Joya del Mar. He had a full day in court, but he promised he would be home in time for dinner.
"Knowing my mother." he said. "I'm sure she'll do something extra special. I'll call her as soon as I can, let her know you are coming first thing in the morning, and ask her to go easy and give you a chance to settle in."
"Okay," I said. Despite the opportunity and my desire to be near him. I was still very nervous. This could lead to even bigger and bigger mistakes. I thought. I promised myself that the moment I saw that happening or the moment I felt uncomfortable.
I
would leave.
Maybe I would just go home and write a long letter to my mother and leave it at that. Maybe that made a lot more sense, or maybe it was too late to do anything like that. It wouldn't be much longer before I would know.
My intention to sleep late, have breakfast in my room, and then dress and leave calmly was shattered by the ringing of my phone at seven-thirty. It was Aunt Agnes. Hearing her voice was almost more of a shock than the phone ringing- itself. It was as if she had somehow broken through my wall, a wall built to keep out reality and responsibility.
"What are you doing there?" she screamed.
It took me a moment to clear my head. I had been in such a comfortable sleep, gliding on a cloud, feeling warm and snug and safe.
"Aunt Agnes?"
"Yes, yes. Whom did you expect?
I
tried to reach you at your college residence, and then
I
called the dean's office, and they told me you had taken a leave of absence. It sounds more like a leave of your senses."
"How did you find me?" I asked. annoyed.
"I forced that man at your house to tell me.
I
practically had to threaten him with police action."
"You had no right to do that. Aunt Agnes."
"I have no right? I have a responsibility to my poor dead brother's memory to look after you. Willow."
Her concern for me was quite out of character. What did she really want?
"What is it? Why are you calling me?"
"The condition of the house, for one." "What condition?"
"I had people go there to pick up my things, and the report
I
received was absolutely horrible. Your socalled caretaker is back to his drinking."
"No, he can't be," I said.
"Well, he is. What are you doing down there? And at The Breakers! What is this? Why did you leave college? Why didn't you tell me first, ask my opinion? Well?"
"I have some personal things to sort out. Aunt Agnes. I need to be alone."
"In Palm Beach! And at The Breakers! What sort of alone is that? Are you with someone? Well?"
"I don't want to discuss it over the phone. Aunt Agnes. It's really not any of your business. Thank you for your concern."
"What? What about the house? He's liable to set it on fire."
"I'll call him. I'm sure whoever told you those things exaggerated. He's probably feeling low about Daddy's death and just needed to be comforted."
"With alcohol? What sort of comfort does that bring?"
"Please, Aunt Agnes, It's very early."
"Early? It's nearly eight. What sort of things are you sorting out doing there. Willow? You know, a young woman with your inheritance becomes a target for unscrupulous gigolos, especially in Palm Beach. You're not experienced enough or old enough to handle yourself in those circumstances. Don't you sign any papers, and don't you marry anyone.
I
should come right down there," she threatened.
So that was it. I thought. She was worried I would give away the family jewels.
"No one is taking advantage of me, Aunt Agnes. That's not why I'm here."
"Well, why are you there? Why can't you tell your mint?"
"I'm not ready to tell anyone anything. You'll just have to trust me," I said.
"Your father would be very upset with you, Willow."
Was she right? Would Daddy have disapproved of all of this, especially confronting my mother now?
"You had better come to me."
"No, Aunt Agnes. Thank you. Thanks for calling."
I hung up, and then I took the receiver off the hook.
I'll be gone today, and she won't be able to find me, I thought. No one will be able to find tree until I find myself.
10
Love or Madness?
.
Now that Aunt Agnes had stirred the cauldron of turmoil inside me like some witch who worked her curses over the telephone.
I
couldn't remain in bed. I ordered in my breakfast and packed my things. Fuming over her phone call. I decided to call Miles to see how much of what she was saying was purely exaggeration. It rang so long
I
thought he wasn't going to answer at all or that he might have already been driven out by Aunt Agnes. Finally, he picked up.
"De Beers residence," he said, and cleared his throat. He sounded as if he might have been crying.
"Miles, are you all right?" I asked immediately.
"Willow? Is that you?"
"Yes, Miles."
"Listen to me." he said in a throaty whisper before I could ask him anything. "I have strange and wondrous news to tell you."
"What?"
'The last few nights.
I
heard sounds coming from your father's office. At first. I thought it might just be field mice. so I laid some traps. I caught nothing. This morning, I rose before dawn and walked as quietly as
I
could to the office. You'll never imagine what I found."
"What?"
I
said, holding my breath. Had someone burglarized my father's office? Had Aunt Agnes, wondering why
I
had spent so much time there, gone back there to search it?
"Your father's computer was on It was on and running. There were words on the screen."
"I don't understand. Miles. What are you saying? Someone was searching my father's computer files?"
"No, no, no No one has come into the house uninvited."
"Then... what do you mean?"
'Don't you see, Willow? Your father is completing his unfinished work. All you will have to do when it's completed is print it off and send it to his publisher. He can't rest in peace until that happens. I'm sure of it.'
For a long moment.
I
couldn't speak. I had never heard Miles talk like this.
"Miles, are you positive the computer was on?'
"Oh, yes, yes. I saw the glow coming from the desk and looked very closely."
"Did you shut off the computer. Miles?"
"No. no. I didn't touch a thing.
I
haven't touched a thing in the office since... since your father's passing. When
I
went back and looked again, there were additional lines on the screen."
"Miles, be honest with me now Are you drinking? Aunt Agnes thinks you are."
"Oh, no, no," he said. "I'm fine. All is fine."
"Okay," I said "I'll call you in a day or so and let you know where you can reach me."
"Wondrous," he said. "Wondrous."
"Miles, someone will be coming to the house from Bell's real estate agency early next week. Let them look around, and they will set up a schedule with you to show interested buyers the property," I told him, remembering arrangements I had begun right before
I
left for Palm Beach.
"They have already called. Willow. They will be here on Monday. Maybe that's why your father is working so hard and fast," he said, the excitement in his voice rising. "Of course. Now it makes sense. He wants to be sure his work is completed before the estate is sold out from under him."
I
didn't know what to say to him over the phone.
"I'll call you" was all
I
could manage, and then I hung up. Regardless of my feelings toward Aunt Agnes. I couldn't deny having the same sort of anxieties about Miles now, I would have to get back there soon,
I
thought, His story about my father's computer actually put a chill in me. It was madness with meaning, for I knew my father had left a book unfinished, and I knew how he must have hated that and perhaps even had it as his last thought.
In the meantime.
I
decided it would be prudent for me to phone Mr. Bassinger, Luckily. he was in his office. I asked him if he could manage to stop by and check things out. I explained my concern without accusing Miles of drinking, but
I
did tell him what Miles had said about the computer.
"I understand." Mr. Bassinger said, reading between the lines. "I'll see to it."
"Thank you. When you want to reach me. I'll be at this number." I said. and read the number off Bunny's card.
"I'll call you as soon as I can," he promised.
As soon as I had my breakfast and dressed.
I
went down and checked out of the hotel. My luggage was loaded into my car. and I was off to Java del Mar. The shaky timbre of Miles's voice and his story lingered like the insistent aftermath of a particularly vivid nightmare.
I
couldn't help but imagine the ghost of my father seated in front of his computer. The image remained on the screen of my imagination all the way to my mother's family estate.
Jennings answered the call box in his dry, impatient tone of voice again, shutting me off abruptly and starting the gates the instant he heard my name.
However, he was there waiting for me when I drove up. "I'll take your bags to your room, miss." he told me. "Oh. thank you. Where is Mrs, Eaton?"
"She has not yet risen. but Mr. Eaton left me word concerning your arrangements." he said. "Would you like a cold drink on the rear loggia after you are settled in? Iced tea. perhaps?" he asked.
Even if he wasn't the most pleasant person I had met. he was at least efficient and professional. I thought.
"Yes. that would be nice."
"Very good, miss." he said. and I entered the house and went up to what would be my room.
I
walked out onto the balcony and looked at the ocean. It was a truly magnificent day, the clouds pasted like puffs of smoke against the vibrantly blue sky.
I
could see a luxury cruise ship gliding along as if the ocean had turned to aqua ice. There were dozens of sailboats and yachts, turning it all into a zrand playground for the rich and fortunate.
What was exciting about having the ocean in your backyard was that the scene changed so often. There was always something new to look at, and nature itself was never uninteresting or monotonous. Someday,
I
thought. I would like to live near the sea.
Jennings put my luggage on luggage stands and then asked me if I would like him to unpack them.
"No, that's fine. I'll do it all later." I said.
"Very good. Your iced tea will be ready in a few minutes," he said, and left.
Now that I was alone in the room that had supposedly been my mother's, the room in which all the terrible things had happened to her.
I
felt a strange foreboding, as if I were truly trespassing on the forbidden past. Perhaps Daddy in his wisdom had good reason to keep all this from me. Perhaps I was defying fate or challenging it by coming here and trying to unravel the twisted and painful past that had bound my parents and left them locked up in a room filled with ill-fated love and unfulfilled promises. Every kiss, every touch was definitely a promise of sorts. Love, especially a great and all-consuming one, so enriched their lives that they were surely surprised by reality themselves. Even someone as intelligent and perceiving as my father had fallen victim to the longings of his own heart. Otherwise, he would never have begun this journey that led to nowhere except disappointment, defeat, and pain, not only for himself but for my mother, whom
I
am sure he never meant to harm.
"Go home, Willow," I whispered. "Don't let your head rest on this pillow tonight. Who knows what nightmares are stored within it, what images would haunt your sleep?
"Go home. Willow, go home. You have ghosts enough there to populate your dark world of dreams as it is. You don't have to add the ones who reside here."
Thinking so deeply, I left the room and didn't realize I was on the rear loggia until Jennings cleared his throat behind me and brought my iced tea on a silver tray.
"Thank you, Jennings. When does Mrs. Eaton rise?"
"It varies." he said almost solely out of the right corner of his mouth. "depending on the evening before, which often extends into the day after."
"I see."
"Yes," he said. "If you don't, you soon will." he added without emotion, "Do you require anything else, miss? Some crackers and cheese. perhaps?"
"No, thank you."
I
said.
"Very good, If you need anything. I'll be close by," he said, and retreated into a corridor as if he were a statue that came to life at the sound of his name.
The service people here don't respect the people for who they work. I thought. but I doubt that it bothers people like Bunny and Asher Eaton. It was almost as if they saw themselves as levels and levels above the rest of the world whose criticism and ridicule fell far too short to disturb them, much less do them any harm. This certainly was a unique place. I thought. Maybe my contrived reason for being here, my study, was a good idea after all. I laughed to myself. sipped some iced tea, and sat back to look out at the sea and think.
Less than a minute or so later, I saw Linden emerge from the house carrying his leather case in one hand and his easel over his left shoulder like a lance. He made his way down the beach and disappeared around the bend. My heartbeat quickened with the realization that if
I
was going to do this. I should do it now, immediately, or else go home.
I rose and walked down the path to the beach and then followed in his footsteps. When
I
came around the bend. I saw he was just setting up his easel. He didn't see or hear me approaching. Rather than come right on him. I thought I would call out.
"Hi," I said.
He paused and looked at me, with a face not angry this time so much as it was surprised and curious.
"Looks like we'll never be rid of you as long as the Eatons are our tenants," He turned away from me and continued to set up his easel.