“Out of here and into your daughter’s living room,” Claire replied. “And I’ll stay there until your wife gets in from church. I like a woman who prays a lot. It shows respect for traditional values, like the sanctity of marriage. How many secretaries have you had over the years, Gramps? How many little George Keefers have shown up to embarrass you?”
“Five thousand,” Mr. Prescott said. “Take it or leave it.”
“A hundred thousand,” Claire said. “And cheap at twice the price.”
“You’re mad,” Mr. Prescott said.
“Not as mad as your wife’s going to be,” Claire said. “She might not like getting four stepgranddaughters all in one afternoon. That’s a lot of birthdays she’s going to have to write down on her calendar. Mine’s coming up in a month, by the way. I’ll be seventeen. Don’t make too big a fuss. My mother’ll bake a cake.”
“Five thousand,” Mr. Prescott said.
Claire sighed. “Maybe you have a hearing problem,” she said. “Or simply a lack of imagination. Let me lay the whole situation out for you, in simple, easy to understand language. I am your granddaughter. My father, Nick Sebastian, is your illegitimate son, George Keefer. My mother, your daughter-in-law, is Margaret Winslow. Your son-in-law Bradford Hughes grew up with her, danced at the same cotillions. At best, he’s going to be embarrassed to learn she’s his sister-in-law. At worst, he’s going to be furious at the scandal it’ll cause if the truth comes out. Maybe not so much about Nicky; after all, that was a long time ago, and probably, the only people who’ll care are your wife and your other children. But I’m married to your grandson. And that could make for interesting reading.”
“Prescott,” Mr. Prescott said, and Claire could see he’d finally made the connection. “Does he know?”
Claire shook her head. “He’s such a sweet boy,” she said. “He worships the ground you walk on. You should hear him talk about you. He says you’re tough, but you’re honest. He says he only wishes his father was more like you, living by the Ten Commandments. How did he put it—an upright, moral existence. I had a hard time keeping a straight face when he came out with that one.”
“Prescott must never know,” his grandfather said.
“I don’t look forward to telling him,” Claire said. “I’m not even eager to meet your wife or to tell my new mother-in-law that she’s my aunt. Hell, once I get out of here, all I’m going to want to do is take a bath. But if I have to embarrass myself to drag you down with me, you’d better believe I’m going to. I’m not Nicky. I don’t have any pride. At least, not where Sybil’s concerned.”
“Am I supposed to find that admirable?” Mr. Prescott asked. “Am I supposed to embrace you, welcome you to the bosom of my family because you love your sister?”
“I’d sooner eat dog turds,” Claire said. “This isn’t a Shirley Temple movie. I don’t want your love. Just your money. You give me a hundred thousand dollars, and I’m out of your life, and Prescott’s. You don’t shell out the money, then who knows what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll talk, tell my in-laws all about my family history. Or maybe I’ll just get Prescott alone somewhere near a bed, and let nature take its course. Our grounds for annulment are nonconsummation, but that can be changed easily enough. He wants me, you know. He wanted me enough to marry me. I guess you wanted Nicky’s mother, too, but not that much. She was easier than I am.” She looked down at her hands, to make sure they weren’t trembling, and noticed Scotty’s class ring still on her finger. She should have let him buy her a wedding ring, she thought. The scene would have played better with a wedding ring. Her problem was she was just too damned nice.
“Ten thousand dollars,” Mr. Prescott said.
Claire bit back a grin. “That won’t even cover my expenses,” she said. “You think it’s cheap getting someone to marry you these days? Not to mention the legal fees for getting unmarried.”
“Don’t be frivolous with me,” Mr. Prescott said.
“I haven’t been,” Claire replied. “If I’d wanted to be frivolous, I could have done a lot more damage. Lucky for you, I’m fond of Prescott. He’s a nice kid. He deserves better than you or me. But if I have to, I’ll hurt him so badly he’ll never speak to you again. Because, from now on, if you don’t give me what I want, everything I have to do, I’ll blame on you. And if I wreck Prescott’s life, which I have the power to do just as long as we’re married, I’ll see to it your daughter finds out why. She’ll hate you for what I do. So will your wife. For ten thousand dollars, you leave behind a heritage of misery and suffering. For a hundred thousand, you buy your family peace of mind.”
“How do I know you won’t be back demanding more money?” Mr. Prescott asked.
“I’m doing this for Sybil,” Claire replied. “When she’s taken care of, then I’m taken care of. Besides, the one thing I have to be grateful to you for are my looks. Which I intend to use to get me a lot more money than you ever dreamed existed. This is a one-shot deal. Take my word for it. I don’t enjoy rolling around in mud enough to do it again.”
“Twenty thousand,” Mr. Prescott said.
Claire laughed, but she did some rapid thinking. Twenty thousand was awfully close to what she needed. It would be so easy to agree to it, and get the hell out of there, while she still had some pride left. It was no wonder Nicky had let himself be bargained down to one year’s college tuition. There was something really disgusting about begging for money from a relative.
“It’s twenty thousand or nothing,” Mr. Prescott declared.
“You said that about ten thousand,” Claire replied. “And about five thousand, too. As a matter of fact, you started by offering nothing. I think we’ve made a lot of progress in a very short time.”
“I’m not going to hand you a hundred thousand dollars,” Mr. Prescott said. “Not if you marry both my grandsons and my son-in-law to boot.”
“I suppose that’s your idea of a joke,” Claire said. “My idea of a joke is twenty thousand dollars. Now that we’ve both had a good laugh, how about making a serious offer?”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” Mr. Prescott said.
“I know,” Claire said. “It’s either that or nothing.” But then her mind worked, and she realized what he had just said. Fifty thousand. He’d skipped straight over twenty-four thousand, where she’d wanted him to stop. For a second, she almost told him so, told him to go back, and only give her what she’d planned on. Fortunately, her brain worked faster than her mouth.
“I’ll give you a check for fifty thousand dollars,” Mr. Prescott said. “On the condition that you agree to an immediate annulment of your marriage to my grandson, and that you never show your face to him or any member of his family, his grandmother included, again. They are never to know of your father’s relationship to me. If you violate this agreement, I will use every resource I have to destroy you. You talked to me about destroying my life, and I’ve taken your threats seriously. But you take mine as well. You are not yet seventeen. I can hurt you in ways you’ll have to live with this year and next, and all the remaining years of your life. Don’t think I’m impotent. I can see to it you don’t get into the college you want. I can see to it you don’t get the job you want. If need be, I can see to it that your face gets accidentally splashed with acid. Do I make myself clear?”
For the first time since they’d met, Claire liked her grandfather. “Fifty thousand,” she said. “And we both keep our lives free of acid.”
“What method of payment do you prefer?” Mr. Prescott asked.
“A personal check’ll be fine,” Claire said. “You can call your bank to cover it, if you don’t keep that kind of cash lying around in your account. And I trust you not to stop payment. You’re too aware of what the consequences would be if you did.”
“Fifty thousand, then,” Mr. Prescott said. He took a checkbook from his jacket pocket. “To whom should I make it out?”
Claire thought about how pretty a check for fifty thousand dollars made out to Claire
Sebastian would look. “Better make it out to Nicky,” she said with a sigh. “That’s Nicholas Sebastian.” Maybe she’d ask him for a ten percent finders’ fee.
Mr. Prescott made out the check, and handed it to her. “Your father,” he said. “George, Nicky, whatever his name is. What became of him?”
“He went to Princeton,” Claire said. “And he got his degree there. Then he went into business for himself.”
“And now?” Mr. Prescott said. “What does he do now?”
“He breaks your heart,” Claire replied, putting the check in her overnight bag. “Thanks, Gramps. No, I mean, Mr. Prescott. Your check covers the name change, too.”
“You’re welcome,” Mr. Prescott replied. “I trust you’ll be willing to leave this house permanently?”
“You can witness my farewells,” Claire said. “Whoops. One more thing. I need cab fare back to Cambridge. I eloped without a penny in my pocket.”
Mr. Prescott took out his wallet, and handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “Happy birthday,” he said. “Now, say good-bye to my grandson, and leave decent people alone.”
“My pleasure,” Claire replied. She left the room feeling fifty thousand and twenty dollars richer on the outside, repulsive and deformed on the inside, where no one could see, where it truly counted.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Let me in,” Claire sang as she knocked on Evvie’s door. “It’s me, Claire.”
“What?” Evvie said as she let Claire in. “I thought you were in Missouri.”
“I lied,” Claire said. She kissed Evvie and gave her a celebratory hug.
“You lied,” Evvie said. “You’ve been gone for two days and you show up out of nowhere and tell me you lied, and I’m supposed to hug and kiss you?”
“Absolutely,” Claire said. She took off her ratty winter coat and her worn-through gloves and tossed them on the sofa. “Wait until you hear everything. No, better still, I’ll show you.” She opened up her overnight bag and took out the check. “See,” she said, brandishing it about. “I got the money for Sybil’s rehab.”
“What are you talking about?” Evvie said. “Are you going to be here awhile?”
“I guess,” Claire said. “At least until I go to Oregon.”
“Fine,” Evvie replied. “Then hang up your coat. I was just making tea. Want some?”
“I’d love it,” Claire said. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m starved.”
“There’s leftover pizza,” Evvie said.
“Okay,” Claire replied. She hung up her coat and fantasized about buying a new one. There certainly was money for it, for new coats for all of them. Fifty thousand dollars. Wait until Sybil heard.
Evvie brought out the cold pizza and the hot tea and sat down on the sofa. Claire sat down next to her. She grabbed a slice of pizza and devoured it.
“Now, what’s going on?” Evvie asked. “From beginning to end, starting with where you were all this time.”
“New York mostly,” Claire replied. “I went there with Scotty. We got married.”
“You did what?” Evvie shrieked.
“Got married,” Claire said. “Don’t worry about it. We didn’t consummate, so we’ll get it annulled in no time. His parents will take care of all the details. They promised.”
“And they paid you off,” Evvie said. “That’s where the check came from?”
“Even better,” Claire said. “His grandfather paid me off. Or should I say our grandfather. Sebastian Prescott himself. I told Scotty I wouldn’t take any money from his parents, but he agreed I could try to get whatever I could from his grandfather. It was a piece of cake. Speaking of which, I don’t suppose you have any in the house? Something about getting married makes you awfully hungry.”
“I bought cookies,” Evvie replied. “I always buy cookies when Sam’s away.” She went to the kitchen, and brought the box of cookies back with her. Claire took two and gobbled them down.
“I feel better,” she declared. “Scotty’s parents didn’t offer me anything to eat. I guess they were too upset.”
“Why should they be upset?” Evvie asked. “Because you eloped with their son, or because you announced you were their niece?”
“Just the elopement,” Claire replied. “I left out the part about how Nicky’s really a Prescott. That’s funny, our last name should be Prescott, not Sebastian. Claire Prescott. No, I guess I like Sebastian better.”
“I’m going to be sick,” Evvie declared. She left the room, and Claire listened as she threw up in the toilet. Claire ate another cookie, and wondered what Thea’s reaction was going to be. Probably much worse. She might spend the next few months puking once she heard.
“All right,” Evvie said as she sat down again. “You found out that Sebastian Prescott is Nicky’s father.”
“From Aunt Grace,” Claire said. “You half suspected she told me.”
“Three quarters,” Evvie said. “I wish you’d told me right away that you knew.”
“Why?” Claire asked. “You’ve been lying about it for four years now. I bet you’ve never even told Nicky that you know.”
“You’re right,” Evvie said. “I meant to at first, but then it just seemed cruel to bring it up, so I never did. I hate lying. I don’t have any instinctive abilities for it, like you and Nicky.”
“And Sam,” Claire said. “And Megs, too, for that matter.”
“Some people are born liars,” Evvie replied. “Others learn to out of necessity. But that’s beside the point. A lie’s a lie, I suppose. All right. Aunt Grace told you about Nicky. Did you tell her that Sebastian Prescott was Scotty’s grandfather?”
“It never came up,” Claire said. “You and I and the old man are the only ones who know all the connections.”
“I’m honored,” Evvie said. “Who else do you intend to tell? Or are you just going to buy a full-page ad in the Globe and announce it to the world?”
“I’ll tell Nicky,” Claire replied. “I don’t see how I can keep it from him. And Sam might as well know the whole story, since he knows most of it already. But that’s it. That was one of the conditions the old man made. His family isn’t to find out. And there’s no real reason to tell Sybil.”
“Or Thea,” Evvie said.
“There I can’t make any promises,” Claire said. “I have to tell her I married Scotty. It’s really important to him. It wasn’t easy convincing him, you know. He didn’t have anything to gain from it. Nicky’s hardly going to give him any money to break up the marriage. But he really wants Thea to know, and I don’t blame him, so I’ll have to tell her.”
“Tell her about the marriage, if you’ve got to,” Evvie said. “But leave the family history out of it.”
“Why?” Claire asked. “So she can continue to have illusions about Nicky?”
“Absolutely,” Evvie replied. “I mean it, Claire. You’ve done something terrible, and there’s no reason to make it any worse.”
“What’s terrible about getting fifty thousand dollars?” Claire demanded.
“What?” Evvie said.
“You heard me,” Claire replied. “Fifty thousand dollars from Sebastian Prescott himself.”
“I thought maybe he gave you five,” Evvie said. “I thought you were talking about at most a month at the rehab center.”
“He started at five,” Claire said. “I bargained him up. I figure half the money we can use for Sybil, and the other half can go to rent us a decent apartment, get Nicky started again. Only I really need a new coat. You could use one, too.”
“He gave you fifty thousand dollars?” Evvie asked.
“And I gave him my word that I’d agree to the annulment and never see Scotty again and never tell him we’re cousins of a sort,” Claire said. “It was a fair exchange. Besides, he owes us the money. What did he ever do for Nicky?”
“That’s between him and Nicky,” Evvie said. “It has nothing to do with you.”
“I’m not sure I agree,” Claire said. “But it doe
sn’t matter. I had him make out the check to Nicky. I thought Nicky would like that, getting money from his father after all these years.”
Evvie stared at Claire. “I don’t know you at all,” she said. “I think sometimes I have you figured out, and then you do something so inexplicable to me, it’s like you’re a stranger.”
“What’s inexplicable?” Claire asked.
“What isn’t,” Evvie replied. “The way you used Scotty. The way you used me and Aunt Grace for that matter. The way you blackmailed Sebastian Prescott into giving you an enormous sum of money. The way you so wrongheadedly assume Nicky’s going to be pleased about it. The way you waltz in here like you’ve won the Nobel Peace Prize when you’ve hurt so many people in such a short time that I can’t even begin to estimate the damage.”
“I did it for Sybil,” Claire said.
“Oh, go to blazes,” Evvie said. “You did it for the pure joy of causing trouble.”
“You think I liked it?” Claire asked. “Having to go to bed with Scotty and snoop around and demean myself to get him to marry me and listen to all the horrible things his father and grandfather called me? My grandfather. You think it was fun?”
“Yes,” Evvie said. “I think it was fun.”
Claire began crying. “I hate you,” she said. “You’re as bad as Thea.”
“I am not,” Evvie said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Thea. We can both see through you, that’s all, and you’re a deceitful person and you hate it when we’re not fooled by your tricks. Now stop crying and have some tea.”
Claire sniffled. “He slapped me,” she said. “Sebastian Prescott. Hard, too. Nobody’s ever hit me before, and I had to pretend like I didn’t mind. I didn’t like that, Evvie. I didn’t like being slapped. I did it for Sybil. I told myself he could hit me black-and-blue as long as I walked out of there with enough money for Sybil.”
“You walked out of there with twice as much money as she needs,” Evvie pointed out.
Claire shrugged her shoulders. “I’m good at what I do,” she replied. “He offered, I accepted. You would have done the same thing.”