With the life of the president in jeopardy, Dr. Charles Coin Forsyte pushed aside his own family problems. He would have to deal with them later.
For Allison Forsyth Meadors, the month of July was an old wound that she tried to forget every year. She was now in her forties—past time for all vestiges of the earlier trauma to have disappeared entirely. But like a scar that forms a distinctively patterned ridge and begs for occasional remembrance even as it fades, the calendar prompted her to remember the war and the tragic events that had made her a widow and then a wife again.
The light tap on the open door elicited no response. Finally, Jonathan, her son, spoke. “If you’re going to call on Ginna’s mother this afternoon, don’t you think you should finish getting ready instead of staring into the looking glass?”
Jonathan’s amused eyes met hers, and she smiled. “Yes, of course.”
Allison quickly picked up the jaunty silk hat and placed it on her head. With no sense of self-consciousness, she stood and waited for Jonathan’s inspection. The years had been kind to her, and today Allison was glad, especially for her son’s sake. She had no wish to embarrass him before the family of the young woman he wanted to marry.
“Well?”
He nodded, taking in the smart green silk dress with pleats that fell to the floor and the matching hat with a black veil that barely masked the brightness of his mother’s amethyst eyes.
Six months ago, he’d thought he would never find another human being half as beautiful. That is, until he met Ginna.
He tried to sound nonchalant. “You’ll do. Especially for an old lady.” Then he grinned and reached out to give her a hug.
She pushed him away and straightened her hat. “Such extravagant compliments. I don’t know how you manage them.”
Allison retrieved her purse from the dressing table, opened it to make sure she had her engraved calling cards, and then, seeing them, snapped the purse shut.
“Has Browne brought the carriage around front?”
“Yes, Mother. He’s been waiting for the past ten minutes.”
They walked down the winding stairs to the front entrance. The oval-glass-paneled door opened onto a carefully painted porch, where feathery green ferns sat on top of twin balustrades standing guard at the steps.
Allison paused on the walkway and turned to her son. “If your father gets home before I do, tell him I haven’t forgotten the dinner party tonight.” At his nod, Allison resumed walking toward the carriage.
Jonathan Meadors stood by the hitching post and watched until the carriage pulled out of the circular driveway. Usually cool and self-assured, he felt perspiration trickling down his collar. He was actually nervous about this duty meeting between the two mothers—the same feeling he had when awaiting the outcome of a close horse race. He laughed at himself as he took out a clean linen handkerchief and wiped his brow. Better to keep his mind on the thoroughbreds. Let his charming mother take care of the social amenities.
“Oh, Maudie, I’ve changed my mind,” Ginna said. “Hand me the pink dress instead. Papa always says I look best in pink. And I do want to look my best when I meet Jonathan’s mother this afternoon.”
“Won’t matter much what you wear, Miss Ginna. I don’t think you’ll be seeing Mrs. Meadors today, after all.”
“She isn’t coming?”
“Oh, she’s coming, all right. Only I just heard your mama tell Barge to bring the carriage around back for you and Mr. Nathan. That you’d both be leaving in a few minutes for your sister’s house.”
A crestfallen Ginna looked at the maid, who was hanging up the yellow silk organza. “But I came home early from the art institute to supervise Clara in the kitchen. To make sure everything would be perfect: the silver trays polished, the tea biscuits exactly right. I’ll just die if I’m sent away without meeting her. Mummy can’t do this to me, Maudie.”
“Not much you can do to stop her, Miss Ginna, if she makes up her mind. She’s done it to you before.”
Maudie was right. And the few times she had tried to rebel or cross her mother had resulted in an even worse situation. No, she had too much to lose, this time. Her mother might find some way of keeping her from marrying Jonathan.
“Then I suppose I’ll wear the yellow dress after all, Maudie.”
Later, a dispirited Ginna slowly walked down the stairs to the parlor. A fidgety Nathan was already waiting.
He was small for his age, and slender, with unruly blond hair that took only a few minutes to escape from the brush’s attempt at control. Below his dark cotton knickers, his left sock was already three inches below his right one. He was busy cupping his hands to make the funny squeak his new friend, Pinky, had shown him.
“Stop that awful noise, Nathan,” Araminta admonished her son just as Ginna walked into the parlor. At her daughter’s appearance, she forgot about Nathan.
“Well, you certainly took long enough to get dressed. Mr. Meador’s mother is due any moment.”
“I’m sorry, Mummy.”
“I’ve told you, Ginna, to stop calling me Mummy. We’re not in England anymore. People around here might think you’re talking to some ancient Egyptian relic on display at the Smithsonian.”
When Ginna looked as if she might sit down, Araminta chided her again. “The carriage is waiting, Ginna. I’ve decided you and Nathan will be better off over at Cassie’s house this afternoon. First meetings between mothers are always awkward.”
“Please, won’t you let me stay, even for a little while?”
“No, Ginna. The marriage isn’t certain. Your father may not like the Meadors family. And it will be much better this way, for you not to
