was the time for dancing. Whoa! Dance. Father would understand.
Twenty-nine
IT WAS FOUR a.m. They were gathered in the double parlors—Mona, Lauren, Lily and Fielding. Randall was also there. Soon Paige Mayfair from New York would come. Her plane had arrived on schedule. Ryan had gone to get her from the airport.
They sat quietly and waited. Nobody believes in it, thought Mona. But we have to try it. What are we if we don’t give it a try?
Earlier, Aunt Bea had come from Amelia Street, to lay a midnight buffet out on the table. And she had put thick votive candles in the two fireplaces. They were only half melted away and the hearths still gave a warm and dancing light.
Upstairs, the nurses on standby talked in low voices—having made a station, so to speak, with their coffee and their charts in Aunt Vivian’s room. Aunt Vivian had graciously gone up to stay at Amelia Street, yielding to the firm attachment of Ancient Evelyn, who had gestured and murmured all evening to Vivian, though no one was sure that Evelyn really knew who Vivian was.
“Two old ladies meant for each other,” said Aunt Bea. “Let’s call them Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Ancient Evelyn isn’t speaking again. It’s a cinch, she’s Tweedledum.”
Throughout the house, in other rooms, even up on the third floor, in makeshift beds, cousins slept. Pierce and Ryan and Mandrake and Shelby were all here, somewhere. Jenn and Clancy were in the front bedroom upstairs. Other Mayfairs were out in the guest house beyond Deirdre’s oak.
They heard the car stop in front of the gate.
They did not move. Henri opened the door, admitting the woman whom none of them had ever seen in their lives. Paige Mayfair, great-granddaughter of Cortland and his wife, Amanda Grady Mayfair, who had left Cortland years before and gone north.
Paige was a lithe little woman, not unlike Gifford and Alicia in face and form, and only a little more birdlike, with long thin legs and wrists. That type of Mayfair, thought Mona. The woman’s hair was sharply bobbed, and she wore those huge dazzling clip-on earrings which a woman must remove before answering a phone.
She was matter-of-fact in her entrance. All but Fielding rose to greet her, to bestow the kisses that were customary even with a cousin whom no one had ever seen before.
Paige sat down finally in the gold French chair with her back to the piano. Her little black skirt rode up on her thighs, revealing that they were almost as slender as her calves. Her legs looked painfully naked compared to the rest of her, swaddled in wool, even to a cashmere scarf which she unwound now from around her neck. It was very cold in New York.
She stared at the long mirror at the far end of the room. Of course it reflected the mirror behind her, and the illusion of endless chambers, each fitted with its own crystal chandeliers.
“You didn’t come from the airport alone, did you?” demanded Fielding, startling the woman as usual with his youthful and vigorous voice. Mona realized she didn’t know who was older—Fielding or Lily—but Fielding looked so old with his translucent yellow skin and the spots on the backs of his thin hands that you had to wonder what was keeping him alive.
Lily had vigor to her, though her body seemed all ropes and tendons beneath her severe silk suit.
“I told you, Great-granddaddy,” said Mona, “we had two policemen with her. They’re outside. Everybody in New York is together. They’ve been told. There isn’t a single member of this family anywhere who is alone now. Everyone has been told.”
“And nothing further has happened,” said Paige politely, “isn’t that so?”
“Correct,” said Lauren. She had managed to remain her well-groomed corporate-style self even through the long day and night. Not a single silver hair out of place. “We haven’t found him,” she said as if trying to soothe a hysterical client. “But there has been no further trouble of any sort. There are people working on this investigation as we speak.”
Paige nodded. Her eyes veered to Mona. “And you’re the legend, Mona,” she said. She gave the indulgent smile one gives to pretty children. “I’ve heard so much about you. Beatrice is always talking about you in her letters. And you are the designee if we cannot get Rowan to come back.”
Shock.
No one had said such a thing to Mona. She had not picked up the slightest vibe