them. And though I could probably run the foundation from anywhere, it helped if I showed up at the office occasionally.
“If we went away for the winter,” Teddy said, “no one would have to know the truth.” He stood up and looked stronger, less disheartened.
“We could blame it on your health,” Miranda said.
“There’s nothing wrong with my health.”
“I think we should tell people what’s easiest for them to hear,” Miranda said.
“It might be easier for you to have people think I’ve lost my health, but it would hardly be easier for me.” Teddy was proud of the fitness he achieved at the Boston Athletic Club. Being known for his youthfulness and robust constitution was not one of the things he was willing to sacrifice to maintain any other part of his reputation. The evening wasn’t bringing out the best in either Teddy or Miranda. They were usually willing to sacrifice me to any cause, but when they started to sacrifice each other, the situation was grim.
Maybe no one would care that the Fortunes had fallen upon hard times. Perhaps we were foolishly guarding a reputation that wasn’t worth a thing to anyone but ourselves.
The meeting was over. Our lives were going to change. What else was there to say?
“Come on, old lady, walk me home,” Priscilla said. Her voice had the calm intimacy I had learned to associate with what was maternal in my life. Priscilla had always been there to pull me through the difficult times. Without her, I don’t know what I would have done after my mother died.
Priscilla and I walked outside. I was grateful to be in the crisp air. It was sweater weather, and even though we were still in daylight saving time, it was getting dark much earlier. That, to me, always signaled the end of summer.
“They’ve asked me to come and speak to some of the girls at Wellesley,” I told Priscilla.
“Why?” There was an inherent insult in that question—the assumption that I had nothing to offer—but at the time I let it pass.
“To the girls who want to be writers,” I said.
“That’s nice.” She seemed distracted.
“I’m afraid of public speaking.”
“You can’t be afraid all your life,” Pris said.
“Do you think I’m a very fearful person?” I asked.
“I would never call you a risk taker, but then none of you girls is. Your mother wasn’t much of one either. That’s why she married your father. It was the safe thing to do.”
I left Priscilla at her door and walked home. The first fires were being lit in fireplaces and the city was beginning to smell like autumn.
Chapter 9
It isn’t easy to find someone to rent a house as big as ours, a situation made more difficult by my father’s refusal to have the rental formally put on the market. He wanted to be discreet. To Littleton’s credit, he was able to find a tenant even with these limitations.
We were seeing a lot more of Littleton lately. He had shown up several Sundays in a row and he always brought Dolores with him. In between Sundays, Miranda and Dolores went shopping together, even though most of Miranda’s credit cards had been shredded in a depressing ceremony at the dining room table. Priscilla had been in charge of cutting up the credit cards. She sent Miranda to get her pocketbook and my unsuspecting sister retrieved it with alacrity, as if Priscilla were about to replace Miranda’s current Prada bag with a new one from Gucci. When Miranda returned, Priscilla asked her to drop her credit cards onto the table. Priscilla took out long scissors with an orange handle.
“These are very good scissors,” Priscilla said. “They cut right through plastic.”
When Miranda realized what was about to happen, she tried to rescue some of the cards, but Priscilla held her lips tightly together and shook her head. In the end many cards were victims of the massacre: Brooks Brothers, Talbots, Victoria’s Secret, Louis, three MasterCards, two Visas, Bloomingdale’s, Saks, and Neiman Marcus. They littered the table like hard-edged confetti. Miranda was gray. She went up to bed and stayed there for three days.
Finally, in an effort to distract her, Dolores dragged Miranda out to a nightclub where they could look for eligible men, but Miranda preferred the parties of people she knew and she usually attended them alone or with Teddy.
We were drinking coffee in the sitting room three weeks after the initial announcement when Littleton said that he’d found potential tenants.
I had been distracting myself from our change in circumstance by spending the last three weeks absorbed in a less-than-fruitful search for Jack Reilly. Jack Reilly was such a common name, especially in the Boston area, and I was having no luck. I put Tad on the job, too, but neither of us could come up with anything. We didn’t even know if Jack was his real name. It could be John. There were plenty of Johns who called themselves Jack.
I couldn’t picture myself driving up to Vermont on the off chance of finding Jack Reilly. It seemed like a ridiculous thing to do, and though I knew I should give up on “Boston Tech” and Jack Reilly’s potential as a protégé—and who knew what else—he was stuck like gum to my shoe.
Littleton rested his coffee on one knee. The cup looked precarious there. Unlike Priscilla, Littleton did not look comfortable with fine china. I wanted to grab the cup and place it on the tea table where it belonged, but I could hardly lunge at Littleton, so I remained where I was. I had retreated to my usual seat by the window. It seemed clear to me now that whatever happened would do so without any input from me.
Astrid came in with more coffee. She placed it on the low inlaid table in front of me and I smiled up at her. She smiled back and disappeared into the kitchen. I checked the grandfather clock. She should be leaving soon for her afternoon off.
“I hope whoever takes this house has a touch of class,” Miranda said.
“I imagine that whoever can afford this house has, at least, a touch of good sense,” I said.
Everyone looked at me. It was like watching a painting move. Littleton with his coffee cup balanced on his knee, Teddy in the Windsor chair, Priscilla beside him, Miranda lounging on an Empire-style couch, and Dolores on the ottoman nearby.
“Coffee?” I asked. This was the perfect opportunity to rescue Littleton’s cup and saucer. I picked it up with a smile, poured coffee into it, and placed it on the table beside him.
“I’m off coffee this week,” Miranda said. I turned from her and poured for the rest of the party.
“I’ve made some discreet inquiries,” Littleton said, “and I have found a producer.”
“A what?” Teddy asked. He laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. Priscilla looked up.
“A Hollywood producer. Movies, you know. A man and his wife. She grew up in the Boston area and now she wants to come back. I don’t know for how long, but they’re looking for a furnished place.”
“Our furniture?” Miranda asked.
“It would really cost too much to store and insure it, though I’m sure the Museum of Fine Arts would be happy to take a few pieces on loan. There’s that Thomas Seymour breakfront.”
“I didn’t know you knew about furniture, Littleton,” Priscilla said.
“It’s important to know a little bit about everything,” he said. He looked flattered, but I didn’t think Priscilla meant to flatter him. He picked up his cup from the table, took a sip, and placed it again on his leg. I could barely stand it.
“Hollywood people,” Teddy said. “It’s a sure way for obscure people to gain undue distinction. Would I have heard of these people?”
“Joseph Goldman. One of his most famous movies was based on his brother-in-law’s book,
“I saw that movie,” Teddy said. “It wasn’t bad. I never read the book. Who wrote it?” If my family could have
