Weep No More, My Lady

Where is the love, beauty and truth we seek?

– Shelley

Good morning, dear guest!

Welcome to another day of luxury at Cypress Point Spa.

Besides your personalized program, we are happy to tell you that there will be special makeup classes in the women's spa between 10 A.M. and 4 P.M. Why not fill in one of your free hours learning the enchanting secrets of the world's most beautiful women, as taught by Madame Renford of Beverly Hills?

Today's guest expert in the men's spa is famous bodybuilder Jack Richard, who will share his personal workout schedule at 4 P.M.

The musical program after dinner is a very special one. Cellist Fione Navaralla, one of the most acclaimed new artists in England, will play selections by Ludwig van Beethoven.

We hope all our guests will have a pleasant and pampered day. Remember, to be really beautiful we must keep our minds tranquil and free of distressing or troubling thoughts.

Baron and Baroness Helmut von Schreiber

One

Min's longtime chauffeur, Jason, was waiting at the passenger gate, his silver-gray uniform gleaming in the sunny terminal. He was a small man with a trim, neat build, who had been a jockey in his youth. An accident had ended his racing career, and he had been working as a stable hand when Min hired him. Elizabeth knew that, like all of Min's people, he was intensely loyal to her. Now his leathery face broke into welcoming furrows as he saw her approach. 'Miss Lange, it's good to have you back,' he said. She wondered if, like her, he was remembering that the last time she came to the Spa she had been with Leila.

She bent over to kiss him on the cheek. 'Jason, will you cut that 'Miss Lange' number? You'd think I was a paying guest or something.' She noticed the discreet card in his hand with the name Alvirah Meehan on it. 'You're picking up someone else?'

'Just one. I thought she'd be out by now. First-class passengers usually are.'

Elizabeth reflected that few people economized on air fare when they could afford to pay a minimum of three thousand dollars a week at Cypress Point Spa. With Jason she studied the disembarking passengers. Jason held the card up prominently as several elegantly dressed women passed, but they ignored it. 'Hope she didn't miss the flight,' he was murmuring as one final straggler came from the passageway. She was a bulky woman of about fifty-five with a large, sharp-featured face and thinning reddish-brown hair. The purple-and-pink print she was wearing was obviously expensive, but absolutely wrong for her. It bulged at the waist and thighs and hiked unevenly over her knees. Intuitively Elizabeth sensed that this lady was Mrs. Alvirah Meehan.

She spotted her name on the card and approached them eagerly, her smile delighted and relieved. Reaching out, she pumped Jason's hand vigorously. 'Well, here I am,' she announced. 'And boy, am I glad to see you! I was so afraid there'd be a foul-up and no one would meet me.'

'Oh, we never fail a guest.'

Elizabeth felt her lips twitch at Jason's bewildered expression. Clearly Mrs. Meehan was not the usual Cypress Point guest. 'Ma'am, may I have your claim checks?'

'Oh, that's nice. I hate to wait for luggage. Sort of a pain in the neck at the end of a trip. Course, Willy and I usually go Greyhound, and the bags are right there, but even so… I don't have too much stuff. I was going to buy a lot, but my friend, May, said, 'Alvirah, wait and see what other people are wearing. All these fancy places have shops… You'll pay through the nose,' she said, 'but at least you'll get the right thing, you know what I mean.' ' She thrust her ticket envelope with the baggage stubs at Jason and turned to Elizabeth. 'I'm Alvirah Meehan. Are you going to the Spa too? You sure don't look like you need to, honey!'

Fifteen minutes later, they were settled in the sleek silver limousine. Alvirah settled back against the brocaded upholstery with a gusty sigh. 'Now, that feels good,' she announced.

Elizabeth studied the other woman's hands. They were the hands of a working person, thick-knuckled and callused. The brightly colored fingernails were short and stubby, even though the manicure looked expensive. Her curiosity about Alvirah Meehan was a welcome respite from thinking about Leila. Instinctively she liked the woman-there was something remarkably candid and appealing about her- but who was she? What was bringing her to the Spa?

'I still can't get used to it,' Alvirah continued happily. 'I mean, one minute, I'm sitting in my living room soaking my feet. Let me tell you, cleaning five different houses a week is no joke, and the Friday one was the killer-six kids and they're all slobs and the mother's worse. Then we hit the lottery. We had all the winning numbers. Willy and I couldn't believe it. 'Willy,' I said, 'we're rich.' And he yelled, 'You bet we are!' You must have read about it last month? Forty million dollars, and a minute before, we didn't have two quarters to rub together.'

'You won forty million dollars in the lottery?'

'I'm surprised you didn't see it. We're the biggest single winners in the history of the New York State lottery. How about that?'

'I think it's wonderful,' Elizabeth said sincerely.

'Well, I knew what I wanted to do right away, and that was to get to Cypress Point Spa. I've been reading about it for ten years now. I used to dream about how it would be to spend time there and hobnob with the celebrities. Usually you have to wait months for a reservation, but I got one just like that!' She snapped her fingers.

Because Min undoubtedly recognized the publicity value of Alvirah Meehan's telling the world about her lifelong ambition to go to the Spa, Elizabeth thought. Min never missed a trick.

They were on the Coastal Highway. 'I thought this was supposed to be a beautiful drive,' Alvirah said. 'It don't look so hot to me.'

'A little farther on it becomes breathtaking,' Elizabeth murmured.

Alvirah Meehan straightened up in the seat and turned to Elizabeth, studying her intently. 'By the way, I've been talking so much I missed your name.'

'Elizabeth Lange.'

Large brown eyes, already magnified by thick-rimmed glasses, widened perceptibly. 'I know who you are. You're Leila LaSalle's sister. She was my favorite actress in the whole world. I know all about Leila and you. I think the story of the two of you coming to New York when you were just a little girl is so beautiful. Two nights before she died, I saw a preview of her last play. Oh, I'm sorry-I didn't mean to upset you…'

'It's all right. I just have a terrible headache. Maybe if I just rest a bit…'

Elizabeth turned her head toward the window and dabbed at her eyes. To understand Leila, you had to have lived that childhood, that trip to New York, the fear and the disappointments… And you had to know that however good it sounded in People magazine, it wasn't a beautiful story at all…

It was a fourteen-hour bus ride from Lexington to New York. Elizabeth slept curled up in her seat, her head on Leila's lap. She was a little scared, and it made her sad to think of Mama coming home to find them gone, but she knew Matt would say, 'Have a drink, honey' and pull Mama into the bedroom, and in a little while they'd be laughing and squealing and the springs of the bed would creak and groan…

Leila told her which states they were going through: Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey. Then the fields were replaced with ugly tanks and the road got more and more crowded. At the Lincoln Tunnel, the bus kept stopping and starting. Elizabeth 's stomach began to feel kind of funny.