“If you want Claire to leave, just say so,” Evvie said. “It’s up to you, Aunt Grace.”
“She can stay,” Aunt Grace replied. “Thea, Evvie, it was good to see you. And tell that Steinmetz boy to visit me soon. Perhaps this time I can convince him to take this wretched cat back with him.”
“Good luck,” Evvie said. She walked over and kissed Aunt Grace good-bye. Thea didn’t bother. The girls got their coats, and left. Claire continued sitting in her uncomfortable chair and wondered about the monetary value of all the furnishings the cat had destroyed.
“So,” Aunt Grace said. “Why did you decide to remain?”
“I do like you,” Claire said. “I always did. I like the way you’re rich and stingy. I like how you didn’t even offer us tea, and that’s hardly more than hot water. When I’m rich, I intend to be stingy as well. Nicky and Megs spend much too freely.”
“So you’ve stayed to sweet-talk me?” Aunt Grace asked. “That’s right. You do have a birthday coming, don’t you?”
“In two months,” Claire said. “And I admit money would be handy. But that’s not why I stayed.”
Aunt Grace shifted her weight, and Trouble moved along with her. Trouble reminded Claire just a little of Scotty, glued first to Thea, and soon, she expected, to herself. She hoped, when the time came, he’d be easier to get rid of than Trouble seemed to be.
“Do you want tea?” Aunt Grace asked. “I didn’t think young girls drank tea anymore.”
“I want information,” Claire replied. “Tea is more Thea’s thing than mine.”
“Information can be gotten over the telephone,” Aunt Grace said. “Just dial the right digits.”
“Not this sort of information,” Claire said. “I want to know about Sebastian Prescott.”
Aunt Grace stared at Claire. “So Evvie finally told you,” she said. “I’m surprised Thea wasn’t in tears about the whole business. She cries so easily.”
“Thea doesn’t know,” Claire said. “And Evvie didn’t tell me nearly enough.”
“She can’t have forgotten what was in the detective’s report,” Aunt Grace declared. “Margaret probably has, she has such blinders about Nick, but Evvie is more sensible than that. In spite of her feelings about that Steinmetz boy.”
“Evvie didn’t say how she found out about Sebastian Prescott,” Claire said. “Merely who he was.”
“And who did she say he was?” Aunt Grace asked.
Claire knew her bluff was being called. She didn’t care for her options, but she knew what they were. She could either admit she didn’t know for certain herself, or she could say what she thought. If she guessed wrong, she could then either blame it on Evvie, or hope that Aunt Grace wouldn’t tell anybody else about what a fool she’d made of herself. The woman was ninety, after all, and could easily die before letting everybody know about Claire’s ridiculous assumptions.
Trying to force the information out of Aunt Grace wouldn’t work. Blaming Evvie was distasteful to her. Therefore, it was either hope she’d guessed right, or pray for Aunt Grace’s silence.
“Sebastian Prescott is Nicky’s father,” Claire said.
“I’m glad to see Evvie hasn’t forgotten all the lessons I tried to teach her that summer,” Aunt Grace said. “Although she never seemed to care for my instructions.”
Claire wasn’t sure, but she thought that was a confirmation. “It’s in the detective’s report?” she asked. “About Sebastian Prescott being Nicky’s father?”
“Certainly,” Aunt Grace said. “I hired a reputable firm to find out everything they could about Nick Sebastian that summer. I tried to use the information to convince Margaret that he was unworthy of her, that she should never see him again. But there is no reasoning with a sixteen-year-old, especially one in love with a handsome, dangerous man.”
Claire nodded, and tried to keep from shaking. It was one thing to guess that Sebastian Prescott was Nicky’s father. It was another thing to have it confirmed. “I don’t understand why Nicky’s last name isn’t Prescott,” she said. “Sons usually take their father’s last names, not their first ones.”
“Nowadays I suppose that’s what’s done with bastards,” Aunt Grace said. “Moral standards have decayed so, people now flaunt their illegitimate offspring. But when Nick was conceived, a man, especially a married man, didn’t show the world his dirty laundry.”
“So Nicky’s mother named him Sebastian?” Claire asked.
“Nick’s mother named him George Keefer,” Aunt Grace said. “It’s all in the detective’s report. Would you care to read it?”
“No,” Claire said. “I like the way you tell it.” George Keefer? Nicky was really named George Keefer? And Evvie had known for how long, four years? Sam knew, too. And Megs, and Nicky, and none of them had breathed a word. Claire couldn’t wait to go home and call her father Georgie.
“Sebastian Prescott was a businessman somewhere, one of those unimportant southern cities,” Aunt Grace said. “He had a cheap little affair with his secretary. Men did it all the time in those days. Presumably they still do. The secretary got pregnant, and Prescott paid her some money, a thousand dollars or so, to keep her mouth shut. She had the baby and put ‘father unknown’ on the birth certificate. I always thought that was rather honorable of her, but of course it’s possible it was a state requirement for illegitimate births.”
Poor Nicky, Claire thought, and then realized, much to her surprise, she meant it. Poor Nicky. He must have been mortified by the whole business not to have used his illegitimacy as another charming weapon. “But she didn’t give the baby up for adoption,” Claire said.
“She boarded it out with relatives,” Aunt Grace replied. “Presumably she made up a story about who Nick’s father was and what had happened to him. After a while, she married, and the boy went to live with her. His stepfather was white trash. It’s no wonder Nick has the morals of a sewer rat. One really couldn’t have expected better of him.”
“But you did,” Claire said.
“Nonsense,” Aunt Grace said. “I didn’t care what his morals were, just as long as he kept away from Margaret. She was so innocent before she met him, so pure. I knew he would corrupt her.”
“But that’s not completely fair,” Claire said. She couldn’t believe she was actually defending Nicky. George. Whoever he was. “Nicky must have had some qualities. After all, his English teacher took him in, left him money for him to go to Princeton.”
Aunt Grace laughed. “A fairy tale,” she declared. “I remember being impressed with it myself, when Nick first told us. There was no English teacher, no Mr. Wilson to open his house and his wallet to Nick. The boy blackmailed his father. He went to Prescott’s office, demanded money, and threatened to confront Prescott’s wife and children if Prescott didn’t pay. I suppose Prescott felt it was worth a few thousand yet again to keep the scandal from his family. He gave Nick some money, not enough for a full four-years’ education, but some, and Nick got the rest himself. The detectives couldn’t figure out how. Probably something illegal. It was then that he changed his name to Nick Sebastian, and made up all those lovely stories about his father dying in the war and his mother coming from a fine if impoverished background. Those stories, which I gather, up until minutes ago, you were happy enough to believe.”
“It’s hard to picture him a George Keefer,” Claire said.
“I should think that would be the least of it,” Aunt Grace said. “The name change.”
Claire nodded, although that was the only part of the story she could really grasp. “He says his stepfather hit him,” she said. “Is that true?”
“It certainly is,” Aunt Grace replied. “With a skillet once, right by the eye. He has a scar.”
He did, although that hadn’t been the explanation he’d given when asked how he’d acquired it. Something about a dog, Claire thought. She had never wasted her time listening to Nicky’s stories.
“Evvie knows all of this?” he asked. “It was in the detectiv
e’s report, everything you’ve told me?”
“I don’t know for sure that Evvie read the report,” Aunt Grace said. “I didn’t stand over her shoulder and turn the pages for her. I assume if she told you who Sebastian Prescott was, then her source of information was the report.” Aunt Grace snorted. “What a waste of money that report turned out to be,” she said. “It neither convinced Margaret that Nick was untrustworthy, nor did it convince Evvie that the Steinmetz boy was equally so.”
“I don’t understand,” Claire said. “How does Sam fit into all this?”
“He lies about his family as much as Nick does,” Aunt Grace said. “I could see that Evvie made the connection, but like her mother, she chose not to care.”
“What does Sam have to lie about?” Claire asked. “His parents are dead, and he lives with his grandparents. Evvie’s met his grandparents. The situations are completely different.”
“His mother isn’t dead,” Aunt Grace said. “I see Evvie keeps her secrets when she cares to.”
So Sam really did lie all the time. Claire decided on the spot to respect his lies and not demand details from Aunt Grace. Besides, Sam wasn’t the key issue. It was Sebastian Prescott she was concerned about, him and his relationship to Nicky.
“Do you know what became of Sebastian Prescott?” Claire asked, trying to sound casual about it.
“I neither know nor care,” Aunt Grace replied. “Why? Do you wish to reconcile him with his son? I doubt the man would be interested. And to give Nick credit, I don’t think he’d want to pursue the relationship, either.”
“I was just curious,” Claire said. “It isn’t every day a girl finds out she has a grandfather.”
“Why should he want to have anything to do with you?” Aunt Grace asked. “Don’t look to him for happy endings, my dear. He’s a respectable man, assuming he’s still alive, and he has a respectable wife and children. He’s chosen to forget he ever begot a bastard. The last thing he would care for would be four penniless granddaughters.”
Claire nodded, and tried to look chastened. Sebastian Prescott certainly was respectable, and his respectable daughter had married Clark Bradford’s respectable cousin Bradford Hughes, and begot two respectable sons, Schyler and Prescott. And respectable Prescott was in love with Claire’s respectable sister Thea, and in lust with her own less-than-respectable self.
Except for Evvie, who was choosing to pretend the situation didn’t exist, and Sam, who was dealing with his own respectable lies on Long Island, Claire was the only one in the world who knew about each and every piece of the puzzle. And not even Evvie knew their respectable grandfather Sebastian Prescott was going to be in Concord that week. Now, all Claire had to do was figure out how to make all the puzzle pieces work best for her.
CHAPTER SIX
Claire nestled in the back of Aunt Grace’s chauffeur-driven limousine and considered what she had learned. Nicky was illegitimate for one thing, bereft of that heroic died-in-the-midst-of-battle father she had always found so boring. Thea had loved that grandfather story, and had cherished the one photograph Nicky had of him. Claire wondered where Nicky had gotten the picture. It certainly wasn’t one of Sebastian Prescott.
Sebastian Prescott. Her grandfather. Scotty’s grandfather as well. That made them half cousins, if such a term existed. Not full cousins because Scotty’s mother came from the married side of the family, while Nicky’s mother had been seduced and bought off.
Claire didn’t feel especially cousinly to Scotty, but then again, she’d never had a cousin, so it was hard to know how to feel. Didn’t cousins have reunions and go to each other’s weddings? Something like that, she supposed. Half cousins probably weren’t invited.
Next piece of information: Nicky’s father was at least well-to-do, and possibly rich, and willing to spend his money to keep from having to deal with his son. Now that was good to know.
Then there was the fact that Nicky knew all about it, and lied, and Megs knew all about it, and lied, and even Evvie knew all about it, and lied. Claire allowed herself a grin. All these years, she’d thought she was the only really untruthful member of the family. Now it turned out she came by her lying honestly.
And finally, there was the business about Sam’s mother still being alive. Claire knew if she’d pursued it, Aunt Grace would have been more than willing to tell her about it. Obviously Sam knew, and Evvie as well. Evvie really was a skilled liar. Amazing. But Claire felt dirty even being curious. Sam’s life was Sam’s, and his family was his, and if his mother was alive and he wasn’t sending out announcements, that was his business. Claire wasn’t a gossipmonger. She only sought out the facts that were relevant to her life.
She’d never had a grandfather before, and now she had one, and if she wanted, she could meet him at New Year’s. Scotty would be happy to introduce them, as long as he didn’t know the significance of the event. And Claire had no intention of telling Scotty that she was his long-lost cousin. The poor boy had cousins enough without her and her sisters. Why burden him even further?
Poor Evvie, finding out that way. It must be awful to discover that your dinner guest is actually a blood relation. It was amazing she only broke the one glass.
“The next block,” she said to the chauffeur as they reached Sam and Evvie’s neighborhood. It was quite a comedown from Aunt Grace’s. Not that Claire would ever live in Boston. New York probably, or maybe Paris or London. Or maybe all three. Flats and town houses and penthouse suites. The life she so richly deserved.
She thanked the chauffeur as she got out, treated him to a smile, and he smiled back. And why not? She had to be a welcome change of pace from Aunt Grace. Then she skipped up the stairs, pressed Evvie’s doorbell, and took a deep breath before entering. It wouldn’t do to let Evvie and Thea see how exhilarated she was. Evvie in particular, with her shrewd, dishonest eyes, might figure it all out.
But she needn’t have worried. Thea was sitting on the living room sofa, weeping, and Evvie was comforting her.
“Sybil,” Claire said immediately. “What did you hear?”
“Stop pretending you care!” Thea shouted.
Evvie raised her hand in warning. “Nothing about Sybil,” she declared. “Thea, calm down. Claire, may I speak with you for a moment?”
“Sure,” Claire said. Had Evvie told Thea about Nicky? It was hard to imagine what else would put Thea in such a tailspin.
Evvie led Claire into her bedroom. She sat down on the bed, and gestured for Claire to join her. Claire could hear Thea crying in the living room, and wondered what was going on, and why it was going to be her fault.
“No one’s sick?” she asked.
“No one,” Evvie said. “We got back from Aunt Grace’s, and Thea decided to call Kip.”
“Kip,” Claire said. But if this were just another Kip crisis, why did Evvie have that big-sister-scolding look on her face? “Was he drunk?”
“It might have been better if he had been,” Evvie replied. “He was sober, and he was mean. You know how he can be. He told Thea he was working, that he was trying to go to school and hold a job and still have some time for his sculpture, and he wished she’d get it through her thick skull that he had no time for a lovesick schoolgirl, not even one as pretty as she was.”
“You’re kidding,” Claire said. “No wonder Thea’s so upset.”
“That’s only part of it,” Evvie declared. “Thea, of course, only heard the part about how pretty she was, and kept after him. How was the work going? Was he drinking? Did he contact his mother on Christmas? You know, Thea questions. I could only hear her end of the conversation, of course, but it was obvious Kip was being very short with her, and she didn’t care. Only then, he hung up on her, and she told me what he’d said before. The part about a lovesick schoolgirl. Which, frankly, she is, although he could have been kinder about it.”
“Kip isn’t kind,” Claire said. “That’s one of the few things I like about him.”
“I’m not in the mo
od for your flippancy,” Evvie said. “Thea was upset enough about this conversation, and then it got worse.”
“Don’t look at me,” Claire said. “I have an alibi. I was at Aunt Grace’s being bored by old-woman talk. I bet she won’t shell out an extra penny for my birthday, either, even though I listened to her reminisce for hours.”
“You volunteered to stay,” Evvie said. “You can’t blame Aunt Grace for being boring when she has the chance.”
“No, I guess not,” Claire said. She would have given Evvie a charming smile, but it wouldn’t have worked. She could charm Megs when she had to, but Evvie always saw through her. Evvie the liar was tough.
“I had just gotten Thea calmed down, when the phone rang,” Evvie said. “It was Sam, calling to say he’d made it to Long Island safely. That really got Thea going. How was it I’d fallen in love with someone who loved me back, and she’d wasted two full years on Kip, who had never loved anybody, except for Gina, and since she’d died, his heart had died too.”
“She didn’t really say that?” Claire asked.
“Of course she did,” Evvie said. “That’s pure Thea. I never could have made it up.”
“True,” Claire said. “So you brought me in here to warn me to stay clear of her? I’d love to, Evvie, but this is a three-room apartment.”
“I brought you in here because after I got through with Thea that time, the phone rang all over again,” Evvie replied. “And this time it was Scotty.”
“So what’s the big deal?” Claire asked. “Thea should be used to that by now.”
“The big deal is he wasn’t calling for Thea,” Evvie declared. “He was calling for you. He left a message. He wants to know if the two of you are still on for dinner and a movie tonight.”
“I’ll call him back right now,” Claire said. She wished Evvie weren’t staring at her.
“You’ll finish talking to me first,” Evvie said. “How long have the two of you been dating?”
“This is our first date,” Claire replied. “What difference does it make?”