Since the woman was leaning on Cassie more heavily, Dana stepped forward to open one of the doors. Even as she did so, her mouth opened and wouldn’t seem to close. The door was of some exotic wood that had swirls of black and deep red. There were little round whorls of brass on the door, making it look like the entrance to a fortress. But it swung open easily on its enormous hinges.
They walked into a high-ceilinged sitting room that looked like something out of a Jane Austen movie, and it was the prettiest room either of the women had ever seen. It was done in peach and a pale, mossy green. There were two big sofas facing each other, with an inlaid coffee table in the center. Elegant tables of mahogany were along the walls, with pretty Chinese lamps on them. The walls had oil paintings of what looked to be Althea’s ancestors, but upon closer inspection were of Althea in her many roles on stage and screen.
Cassie helped the woman to sit on one of the sofas. The chintz curtains were open, and the windows showed straight through the trees to the little beach where she and Elsbeth played so often. With a sick feeling, Cassie realized that every time they’d been trespassing, they’d been seen.
“Can I get you something?” Cassie asked. “Call someone?”
Althea leaned back against the sofa and smiled. “No, thank you. It’s just my housekeeper and me here. And Brent outside. Just the three of us.”
Dana was looking at the ornaments on the mantelpiece. She wasn’t sure but she thought one of the two eggs was genuine Fabergé. “But surely it takes more than just three people to run this place,” she said.
Althea smiled at Dana. “Now and then I need more people, but for day-to-day living, it’s just the three of us. Would you be so good as to push that button on the wall? I hope that you two will stay for a midmorning tea. Or are you too busy on this lovely Saturday morning to share a bite with an old woman?”
“No, of course not,” Cassie said quickly. “Our families have run off together on a boat and we’re absolutely free.”
“Families?” Althea said, looking at Cassie. “I thought you were the nanny for that beautiful little girl. Don’t you work for a widower and his father? Have they become your family?”
Cassie stood up straight, blinking at the woman. What she’d said was true, but Cassie didn’t want to hear it put so bluntly. No, they weren’t her family. “I…I…,” Cassie began, but she could think of nothing else to say.
“She’s been there so long that they seem like family,” Dana said. “I can attest that Cassie loves little Elsbeth very much.”
“Ah,” Althea said, looking at Cassie in speculation. “But isn’t Jefferson Ames about to marry David Beaumont’s daughter? I met the girl when she was a child and I found her to be the most spoiled creature I’d ever met. Has she changed much?”
Dana smiled. “Not at all. But how in the world do you know so much about what’s going on in Hamilton Hundred? Names, marital stats. You seem to know everything about us.”
“Won’t you sit down, both of you?” Althea said, smiling. “Let’s just say that I have a spy. I can’t, of course, tell you who it is, but I’m kept informed of whatever is thought to interest me. I’d love to go to your country club and hear the gossip myself, but did you know that I did that once?”
Dana and Cassie sat by each other on the couch on the opposite side of the pretty coffee table and smiled. Of course they knew that. Within ten minutes of Althea’s arrival at the club, the parking lot had been full and the manager had had to ask that no one bother her while she ate. But afterward, graciously, Althea had signed autographs. They could understand why she’d not returned.
“We heard what we thought were shots,” Dana said.
“Yes,” Althea said, giving a sigh. “He was here again. I think Kenneth waited until he saw my young Brent drive away, then he walked around the fence to the house.”
Both Cassie and Dana blinked at her. Althea’s second husband had been the great Shakespearean actor, Kenneth Ridgeway. He was the sort who thought that only Broadway was worth an actor’s time, and during the years he was married to Althea, he had been publically disdainful of her film work. In spite of his nasty little remarks, their marriage had lasted for over twenty years. It was when Althea had taken a role on Broadway and been heralded as “magnificent” that the marriage died. The day after the fabulous reviews came out, Kenneth Ridgeway filed for divorce. But the joke was on him. His career never recovered from his so-obvious jealousy. He became a national joke, the butt of talk show hosts’ monologues.
“Kenneth Ridgeway was shooting at you?” Cassie asked, wide-eyed.
Althea smoothed her perfect hair, pulled back from her exquisite face, the cheekbones nearly as perfect today as they had been in the 1920s, and nodded. “I assume it was a stage pistol that uses blanks. Kenneth always did love drama over substance. But, yes, there were shots fired.”
“At you?” Cassie asked quietly.
“Of course,” Althea said, smiling. “He wants more money. But then he always wants more money. I told him I’d pay him if I just didn’t have to hear that speech again about how he made me what I am and how I owe him everything. But this time I think I said too much because he pulled out a pistol and shot at me.”
Cassie and Dana just looked at her, too astonished to say anything, when the door opened and in came a woman with a wheeled cart covered with a pretty porcelain tea set, and dishes with tiny sandwiches and cakes. The woman was short, dark skinned, and probably as old as Althea was—except that she looked her age.
“Just put it there, Rosalie,” Althea said. “I’ll serve.”
“What have you done this time?” the woman asked as she shoved the cart to the side of the couch. She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at Althea.
“This is not the time…,” Althea began. “I have guests.”
“It ain’t never the time,” Rosalie muttered as she went toward the door, then turned back to look at the two young women. “If somebody shot at you, maybe you should call the police.”
Cassie and Dana nodded in agreement.
“I don’t think so,” Althea said. “Not now.”
“Just what I thought,” Rosalie said, then left the room, closing the door loudly behind her.
Althea turned back to the two women. “Do you take milk or lemon?”
“Let me do that,” Dana said, at last beginning to recover from the awe of being in Althea Fairmont’s presence. She got up and began to expertly pour and serve the tea.
Cassie took her cup after Dana had served Miss Fairmont. “What do you plan to do about this man?” she asked sternly.
“Nothing,” Althea said, sipping her tea. “He loves the excitement and it makes him feel manly, rather like a pirate come here at gunpoint to demand that I give him money.”
“But this morning it was more than excitement, wasn’t it?” Dana said, sitting down by Cassie, her cup in her hand. “When we found you, you were passed out on the floor. If we hadn’t found you, who would have helped you?” She didn’t say the words, but it hung in the air that it was a big house and it was peopled by only two elderly women. For all that Althea—thanks to modern surgery—looked like a well-preserved fifty, she was still an older woman. And Rosalie wasn’t any younger.
Dana’s eyes said it all as she looked at Althea.
“Yes, well,” Althea said, looking away from Dana’s stare. “I know I should do something about it, but I did make Kenneth a laughingstock of the country, and I carry some responsibility for that.”
“He made himself a laughingstock,” Cassie said firmly. “You beat him at his own game by showing him up on stage. He was the idiot who filed for divorce right after the reviews came out.”
Althea smiled warmly at Cassie. “Oh, my, you do have a passionate nature, don’t you? Thank you for championing me, but I do feel guilty in a lot of ways. Kenneth had to work for what he had, but I…” She gave a little shrug.
“You had raw, natural talent,” Dana said.
“I had hunger,” Althea answered.
Dana and Cassie nodded. They knew Althea’s story, as did most of the United States, thanks to the movie that had won Althea her first Academy Award. She was born to a beautiful, ambitious, husbandless mother who wanted to be in the movies, so she’d dragged her infant to Hollywood when the place was mostly desert. The problem had come when the woman was found to have no talent whatever. But that hadn’t stopped her from trying to push her way in front of the camera. She’d been unable to afford child care so she’d dragged her daughter to the sets and left her to fend for herself. One day, a director needed a child to play a small part, he’d seen Althea sitting in the shade with a coloring book, and he’d put her in the role.
As they say, the rest was history. Althea had all the talent her mother yearned for but didn’t have. From the time she was three Althea lived on movie sets, and as her fame and wealth grew, her mother’s extravagant lifestyle increased. The woman died when Althea was twenty-eight. Everyone said it was a good thing because Althea found herself not only broke but also deeply in debt. Her mother had not only spent all that Althea had earned, but also had borrowed heavily on her daughter’s talent. Biographies and the resulting movie—in which Althea played herself—told of the hardship she’d gone through to pay off the debts and to keep her dignity while doing it. The movie ended when her husband filed for divorce the day after he read the reviews of her stage performance. In one of the all-time greatest scenes, Althea vowed that she’d not only survive, but she’d triumph.
“Here, have one of these raspberry tarts,” Althea said, holding out the plate. “The young man who works for me has a stand of raspberry bushes somewhere about the place. Perhaps you could bring the young lady over here sometime and pick them,” Althea said to Cassie.
Cassie took another tart, but Dana didn’t. “Skylar?” Cassie asked. “I don’t think she’d like to—Oh, sorry, you meant Elsbeth.”
“Skylar. That’s David Beaumont’s daughter’s name, isn’t it?”
At even the thought of Skylar and the rapidly approaching end of her time with Jeff and Thomas and dear little Elsbeth, Cassie’s eyes teared up. “Yes, that’s her name,” she said softly. “I think she’ll soon be Elsbeth’s mother.”
Althea looked from one woman to the other, Cassie with her head down, staring at her half-eaten tart on the pretty porcelain plate, and Dana sitting ramrod straight, with all emotion erased from her face, as though she dared anyone to know what was really inside her. “Men are fools, aren’t they?” Althea said, putting down her teacup. “I am the only thing other than the theater that Kenneth Ridgeway has ever loved, but he’d die before he admitted that. So what does he do but come here every six weeks and put on a grand performance in order to get money from me. The poor dear doesn’t have a cent.”
“He probably thinks his performance is worth your money,” Dana said.
“I’m sure he does,” Althea answered. “In fact—”
She broke off when the door was loudly pushed open and in came a divinely handsome young man. He had a beautiful face, dark blond hair that looked as though the breeze had just ruffled it, and he wore jeans and a knit shirt that showed off his well-sculpted body.
“You were shot at?” the young man said in anger, glaring down at Althea. “How did he get through? Rosalie said it was your ex-husband again.”
“Brent, dear, I’ll talk to you later, but I’m sure it was just a prop pistol, not real at all. And these two young ladies saved me.”
He ignored the women on the opposite couch. “Those so-called prop pistols can kill!”
“He isn’t going to harm me,” Althea said, smiling up at the beautiful young man. “I have the money and I’ve made sure he knows that my will does not include him. If I die, the money will stop. He’d have to go out and earn a living.” She gave a delicate shudder.
“I’ve met him and I know the old ham is nearly blind and that he’s too vain to wear glasses. He could shoot you without even seeing you.”
Cassie couldn’t help herself as she gave a giggle at that image.
The young man turned on her, his face full of anger. “You think this is funny?” He didn’t give her time to answer. “You’re the one who trespasses all the time. And you!” he said, turning his icy blue eyes to Dana. “I’ve seen all of you down there. Don’t you realize that this is private property? Miss Fairmont has paid for the privacy that comes with this place. She doesn’t need you and your entourage sneaking onto her private beach.”
“That’s enough, Brent,” Althea said. Her stage-trained voice was quiet but it probably could have been heard above a hurricane.
Immediately, the young man straightened up and looked back at Althea. “I apologize. It’s just that when Rosalie told me what happened, I was worried. Did you know he was coming? Is that why you sent me out today?”
Reaching out, she patted his hand, which was clenched in a fist at his side. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I have guests.” Her voice was purring, placating, soothing.
Cassie and Dana looked from one to the other, then back again.
With a smile, Althea introduced him to Cassie and Dana. His name was Brent Goodwin and Althea described him as a gardener, but added that he also “looked out” for her. “Go on, now,” Althea said. “I’ll talk to you later. I had Rosalie bake that lemon cake you like so much. Go and have some.”
After a mumbled “Nice to meet you” Brent left the room and closed the door behind him.
“I think we should leave,” Dana said stiffly. “And I can assure you that we won’t trespass again.”
Althea gave a laugh. “If you don’t continue to use the beach, I’ll nominate Skylar Beaumont to be president of the social activities committee for Hamilton Hundred.”
It took Cassie and Dana a full minute to realize she was kidding. They laughed politely.
“That young man seemed adamant that we stay away, and he’s right. It is your private property,” Dana said.
“Let me handle him.” Althea’s green eyes twinkled, then she looked at Cassie. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I’ve heard nothing but good about you, about how you run Jefferson’s household. I’ve heard that you look after his father as well as his daughter.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Cassie said hesitantly. It was disconcerting to have this very famous woman know so much about her.
Smiling, Dana looked at Althea. “Cassie is very good at her job. It will be a shame when she has to leave, but I’m sure she’ll get another job right away.”
Althea turned unsmiling eyes on Dana. “And if Jefferson marries the very rich Skylar Beaumont, that would leave a place for a mother for pretty little Elsbeth, wouldn’t it? I hear you practically adopted the child after Lillian Ames died.”
Dana’s face turned red, but she said nothing. She just kept her back rigid.
Cassie looked at Dana in wonder as she began to understand some things. “You want Elsbeth.”
“Absolutely not,” Dana said. “Roger and I plan to have our own children.” She looked straight ahead, avoiding the eyes of both women.
“That’s neither here nor there,” Althea said, looking at Cassie. “My point is that if Jefferson marries Skylar, you’re going to need a job. I wonder if I could persuade you to work for me as a sort of social secretary and a researcher.”
“I don’t know,” Cassie said slowly. The truth was that she couldn’t actually imagine a time when she wasn’t living with Elsbeth and Jeff and Thomas. To go from living with them to being at the beck and call of this woman…She just couldn’t conceive of it. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Of course. But remember that if you work here you’ll be near the child.” Althea leaned forward. “Or is it Jefferson who you want to be near?”
Cassie also leaned forward. “If he was interested in me, he wouldn’t be marrying Skylar, now would he?”
Althea laughed. “You’ve got some backbone, don’t you?”
Dana started to say something, but suddenly there were noises from behind the door that led into the main part of the house. When a man’s voice sounded, Althea listened, then stood up. Moments before, she’d been nearly helpless, an old woman in distress, but she stood up with the energy of a woman a third her age.
“I apologize, but I have something I must take care of,” she said quickly, then went to the door that led out to the veranda and opened it. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind going out this way.”
“Of course,” Dana murmured and went to the door, Cassie beside her.
“Could I presume to ask that you tell no one of this?” Althea said.
“You know how gossip is in this place. I wouldn’t want the tabloids writing something about Kenneth.”
“We won’t tell anyone,” Cassie said. “It’ll be our secret. We’ll—”
She broke off because Althea nearly shoved her out the door, Dana in front of her, and shut the door firmly behind them. In the next second, they heard muffled voices, but when they turned to look, the curtains had already been drawn.
“Well,” Dana said as they walked through the garden and back toward the little beach.
“Yes, well,” Cassie said. Had Dana been her friend, she would have suggested that they go to the club for lunch and talk about what had just happened. But Dana wasn’t a friend, so she didn’t. “I’m glad we were around to help,” Cassie said at last, but then she looked at the beach with longing. Never again would she feel that she could use the beach, and she and Elsbeth were going to miss it. “Well, uh…” Cassie wasn’t sure what to say to Dana. She’d learned a lot in the last hour, and none of it was particularly good.
“Yes,” was all Dana said, then they parted at the end of the garden, each of them going in opposite directions to their houses that flanked the Fairmont mansion.
But when Cassie got home—no, correction, to Jeff’s house—she couldn’t bear being in the house alone, so she went downtown to the farmers’ market. When people first moved to Williamsburg they were shocked that “downtown” meant Colonial Williamsburg. They assumed that the beautiful, restored city of eighteenth-century houses was for tourists and that the residents had somewhere else to do their shopping. There were lots of stores in Williamsburg, even an outlet mall that could make one dizzy with the variety and quality of goods for sale, but where was the downtown? The confusion between tourist and resident led to the building of New Town, a pristine, modern—but Colonial-looking—town not far from William and Mary College. New Town was a place where people could get a haircut or sit at a sidewalk café to eat. There was a to-die-for bookstore, and the courthouse, and a huge movie theater. And all of it was beautiful.