sure. I’d hugged her and murmured that Eliot loved her and wanted to protect her. And so did God.
Now, a commotion at the gym door made me look up. Julian and Arch, hobbling on the crutches required for his ankle sprain, had moved to greet Michaela and her daughter, a beautiful, seven-year-old child. I stood to greet them, too.
The little girl had thick blond hair that wound into spiral curls, held back with twin gold barrettes. She wore a calf-length blue taffeta party dress that looked old-fashioned, a pair of white socks, and black patent leather Mary Janes.
“I’m the cook,” I told her, as I extended my hand.
She took my hand and curtsied. “I know.” Her voice was clear and lovely. She hesitated, unsure how to use social graces that she’d been taught. “My name is Mildred. Tonight is my debut into society.”
I nodded, unable to find words. This little child had tripped Viv Martini with a sword after Viv, her sword broken, crashed into Michaela’s apartment through the living-room staircase. Viv had been looking for another weapon when she’d been tripped. Unfortunately, Viv had regained her balance, grabbed Michaela’s old electrified cauldron, and poured scalding water down on me through the murder holes. But then this little girl had whacked Viv Martini unconscious with Eliot’s precious copy of Burke?s Peerage. This darling little thing, whose delicate-featured face was so uncannily like that of Eliot Hyde, her father, had done all that. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Thank you, Goldy,” Michaela said, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry I yelled at you last night. I knew Viv had caused all the problems, and I was afraid she’d gone after Eliot. I wanted to find them and, and …” She stopped, aware of her daughter’s gaze.
Mildred looked back at me, let go of my hand, and curtsied again. In the past twenty-four hours, I had learned more about why Michaela had kept Mildred’s existence secret all these years. Eliot had guiltily confessed the rest of the story: Michaela did love him; she also adored their child. Michaela was also reluctant to leave her own father, the old fencing-master, and the castle home she’d always known and loved. And Eliot had been afraid to kick out Michaela and their daughter: That would guarantee the publication of his paternity. So Eliot had promised to let Michaela and Mildred stay in the Kirovsky family home, and to pay for all the child’s expenses, until Michaela could take early retirement from Elk Park Prep next year. Then, she’d promised, she would take Mildred to a new home, when the conference center opened. Eliot would finance Michaela and Mildred doing all this, he had sworn to his caretaker, as long as no one - especially Sukie, whom he genuinely loved - knew that he was Mildred’s father. This was why Mildred’s playroom had boasted its heavy-duty electric lock.
But secrets do have a way of getting out. Mildred curtsied again and allowed Michaela to lead her to the punch table.
Arch was enthralled. ?Oh, Mom! A hidden kid! That’s even cooler than a boy ghost who opens windows!”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“From Michaela,” Arch said, pivoting on his crutches to watch Mildred. “While you were in the hospital. The ghost opens the window to get fresh air, because he died of pneumonia in that room. That was where he couldn’t breathe. Every once in a while, they see him at the window of what’s now the kitchen. He’s wearing his little Elizabethan outfit with the ruffled collar, and he always opens the window.”
Good heavens, I thought.
“Michaela also told me Mildred doesn’t officially exist. When Michaela got real sick after she had Mildred? They evacuated her by helo out of the castle, and the medics saw the baby there with Michaela?s father, who helped raise Mildred before he died.”
The retained placenta mentioned by the flight nurse? Probably. I’d almost forgotten it.
“But Mildred never got a birth certificate,” Arch said. “Michaela’s going to have to get her one so Mildred can get an official name, and Social Security, and immunizations and all that stuff. Problem is, Michaela will probably get into lots of trouble for shooting out our window.”
“I’m pretty sure Mildred will become Mildred Kirovsky,” I told my son. “And the way I heard it, Michaela’s not being charged with anything regarding our window, as long as she cooperates with the police on the Viv Martini investigation. We’re certainly not going to press charges.”
“That’s good, anyway,” said Arch as he bumped away. He was getting awfully agile on his crutches. “The fencing team needs her back before the state meet. Oh,” he added as an afterthought, “Howie Lauderdale called and apologized. He said his father offered him a hundred dollars to win the bout with me. He felt really bad, and of course he didn’t take any money. I told him I forgave him.” He smiled, and so did I.
“Tom called on my cellular,” Julian informed me when I reached the refreshments table, “since you lost yours in the moat. He’s tying up some loose ends with
Boyd and will be here as soon as he can. He says Eliot signed the immunity deal. Eliot has promised to cooperate fully.” He served punch to the first three student couples to arrive. “And, uh, it looks like John Richard’s probation might have come to an end, although that’s being debated, too. Oh, and they’re draining the moat, to try to find the stamps.”
I smiled. “How about our house?”
Julian grinned. “Saving the best until last. The window’s fixed, and so is the security system. You guys can go back there tonight.”
The music started. Overhead rotating lights, covered with red cellophane, began to swirl, bathing the gym in a scarlet-tinted, festive air. Arch was hopping back and forth on his crutches. I looked more closely. He was dancing with Lettie, she of the recent breakup. Incredible. But then again, it was Valentine’s Day.
The cookies and punch were a hit. Julian served with efficiency and panache. I wished I could have helped. him, because just sitting and brooding was making me nuts. I hadn’t asked Tom how his meeting with Sara Beth had gone. I hadn’t had the heart.
At length, Tom entered the gym. He had a new sling on his arm, I noticed, and a jauntier-than-usual air about him. He made straight for our table.
“Miss G.,” he said.
“We should talk,” I said nervously.
He held up his hand. “Before you ask, when I left Sara Beth, she told me how much she liked you. I’m… sorry I didn’t tell you sooner that she’d contacted me. Like right away, the first of January.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” I replied.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but keeping secrets can… .
Fearing he might lose his wife, Eliot had kept Mildred’s existence secret from Sukie. Sukie, in turn, had kept her history of cancer secret from Eliot, fearing it would make her look flawed and undesirable. That’s why she never mentioned knowing my ex-husband. Viv had deceived John Richard by blinding him with sex, and Andy Balachek’s attempts to double-cross his partners had cost him his life.
But now Viv was under arrest, and John Richard was in all kinds of trouble with his parole officer. Sukie had told me that she and Eliot were staying together, no matter what. She wanted to have a relationship with Mildred, and Eliot sheepishly admitted that he wanted to get to know his daughter better, too, no matter how it would tarnish his reputation. Still, Michaela was moving out of the castle, Sukie had added, but only when she and Mildred were ready.
Tom and I, unfortunately, had not done much better than these folks in the full-disclosure department. We stood there, bathed in the crimson lights, facing each other. The first test of honesty in our marriage had ended in about a C+. But we’d survived and remained committed to each other. And wasn’t that what counted?
Tom bowed as low as his injury would allow him. “Miss G or should I say, my dear Valentine, would you dance with me?”
I allowed him to tug me gently upright. The music had turned slow and romantic. An unexpected thrill darted up my spine. Then the two of us, looking like wounded veterans, stepped onto the dance floor. With infinite care, I put my hands around Tom’s waist. My burned arm wouldn’t reach to a proper dance position. Tom put his good hand around my waist. We started to move together.
“Sara Beth is on her way back to Vietnam,” he said matter-of-factly. “She doesn’t plan on returning. Her reality is in another part of the world now. Goldy - ” He lifted his hand to touch my cheek. ?Thanks for understanding.”
I wouldn’t go so far as to say I understood. Maybe I never would - totally.
