Brave Warrior (6 page)

She turned to Maisie and Felix and added, “The Merriweather Rose is a lovely shade of lavender.”

“Quite lovely,” Great-Uncle Thorne agreed.

“And I swim in the pool every morning at six,” Penelope continued.

Again she turned to Maisie and Felix. “The Merriweathers like saltwater in the pool. And we like it bracingly cold. That’s the secret to our longevity.”

“Ah! Yes,” Great-Uncle Thorne said. “I remember
too well the temperature of the pool at Château Glorieux. There was something about the tiles—”

“Egyptian!” Penelope said. “From the tomb of King Petahu.”

She once again faced Maisie and Felix and said, “They tell the story of his life, all along the sides and bottom of the pool. You should come to Château Glorieux for a swim and see for yourself.”

“Maybe this summer—” Felix began, just to be polite. Although he loved to swim, he couldn’t imagine doing it in March.

Penelope’s wrinkly face wrinkled even more in consternation.

“But it’s indoors,” she said. Then she added, “Of course.”

“How about this Saturday?” Great-Uncle Thorne suggested with far too much enthusiasm.

“Saturday, Saturday,” Penelope said, thinking. “Yes, I believe Saturday will work.”

Slowly, she began to rise from the enormous chair. Great-Uncle Thorne jumped to his feet and offered his arm to steady her.

“Allow me to escort you,” he said.

Maisie and Felix stared after them as they made
their way out of the Dining Room.

“She’s…she’s…ancient!” Maisie finally blurted.

Felix could only agree.

The sound of Great-Uncle Thorne whistling filled their ears as he returned to the Dining Room. When he walked back inside the room, he stopped, his face positively glowing. He didn’t seem to notice Maisie and Felix at all. He just lifted an apple from the crystal bowl of fruit and tossed it into the air, catching it easily.

“Oh, it don’t mean a thing if you ain’t got your swing,” he sang. “Doo-wop, doo-wop, doo…”

As soon as Maisie heard her father’s voice on the telephone Saturday morning, she said, “I am more miserable than ever.”

“Oh, sweetie, that can’t be,” he said. “Felix said you two are going swimming at some fancy mansion and there’s a big party tonight, right?”

“Everyone,” Maisie announced dramatically, “is in love.”

She expected her father to be alarmed, to question her. But instead, he laughed. “Well, it is spring,” he said. Foolishly, she decided.

“Even Great-Uncle Thorne,” she added.

Which made her father laugh again. “That’s a good one,” he said.

“He’s in love with the oldest person alive,” she said.

Ever since Penelope Merriweather had shuffled into the Dining Room, Great-Uncle Thorne had been acting as stupidly as their mother—looking all dreamy-eyed and saying ridiculous things and being actually nice.

“I thought
he
was the oldest person alive,” her father said.

Maisie paused. Her father sounded way too cheerful, she thought.

“Next thing I know,” Maisie said, “you’re going to tell me you’re in love, too.”

Her father’s voice caught the tiniest bit before he said, again, “It’s spring, Maisie.”

Maisie felt her heart beating against her ribs. She thought she might throw up.

“Maisie?” her father said.

But she didn’t answer. She just held the phone too tight and tried to breathe.

“Felix isn’t in love, is he?” her father asked.

“He has Lily Goldberg,” Maisie managed to say. Inexplicably, hot tears were splashing down her cheeks. “And…and Mom has Bruce Fishbaum,” she said, expecting her father to be shocked or outraged, maybe enough to fly here from Qatar and win her mother back.

But instead he said, “I know.”

“You know?” Maisie said.

“She told me,” he said without even a drop of shock or outrage. “Sweetie, we’re divorced. This is what happens when people get divorced.”

That’s when she knew. Her father was in love, too. With another woman. Without even saying good-bye, Maisie hung up. She sat there staring at the phone as if it had betrayed her. Then she threw up.

“You’d better not come to the party,” Felix said hopefully. “You don’t want to throw up there.”

Felix had never summoned the courage to tell Maisie that she was not invited to Bitsy Beal’s March Madness party. And he had not summoned the courage to ask Bitsy Beal if Maisie could come.

Maisie was on her bed with a cool towel on her forehead, her eyes closed and her face pale.

“I’ll be okay,” she said softly.

Felix said, “I wouldn’t risk it.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him suspiciously.

“Just saying,” he said, shrugging.

Maisie closed her eyes again. “Did Dad mention to you that he has a girlfriend?”

“No,” Felix said. “Did he tell you that?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Well? What did he say?” Felix asked impatiently. His sister always made him beg for information.

“He said that it’s spring.”

Exasperated, Felix said, “And from that comment you surmise he has a girlfriend?”

“He knew about Bruce Fishbaum,” Maisie said. “And he didn’t even care.”

“Maisie,” Felix said, “don’t go jumping to conclusions.”

“He said that’s what happens when people get divorced.”

Felix looked at his sister’s pale face. “Is that why you threw up?” he asked her kindly.

She nodded. Tears slid out of the corners of her eyes.

“You’ll get tears in your ears from crying on your back,” Felix said. That was what their father always used to say if he found one of them crying, and it made Maisie cry harder now.

“We have the worst parents ever,” she said.

She looked so pathetic lying there, crying in that ridiculous bed, that Felix knew he had no choice: Maisie was going to come to that party tonight. But, he decided, he didn’t have to like it. And she was not going to ruin everything for him.

Great-Uncle Thorne called to Felix as he left Maisie’s room.

“Can we have a word?” he asked him. “Man to man?”

“Uh…sure,” Felix said.

Great-Uncle Thorne grasped Felix by the shoulder. “About our invitation,” he began.

“Swimming?”

“Exactly. I’d prefer that you and your sister stay home.”

“If you’re worried about Maisie throwing up again,” Felix explained, “it was just an emotional reaction. She’s not sick or anything.”

“You see,” Great-Uncle Thorne said, as if Felix hadn’t spoken, “I would like to be alone with Penelope. You understand.”

“Ah,” Felix said.

Great-Uncle Thorne gave him a slap on the back and said, “I knew you’d understand. Now I’m off to find my bathing suit. Haven’t worn it since the thirties. Or was it the twenties?”

With that, he was off down the hallway, singing, “Oh, it don’t mean a thing if you ain’t got your swing…”

Before Felix could take another step, his mother was calling to him.

“Wanted to say good-bye and happy swimming,” she said when she reached him.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Felix asked her, pointing to her belt, which was navy blue and had green whales on it, and then to her brand-new boat shoes, which were a strange shade of red.

“I’m going sailing,” she said brightly. “With Bruce.”

His mother had on a baseball hat, and her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, popped out the back of it. She was not a person who wore baseball hats.

“Where’s your sister?”

“In her room. She threw up.”

“Oh, dear. I’d better take her temperature.”

Felix shook his head. “She thinks Dad has a girlfriend.”

His mother averted her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“Wait. Does Dad have a girlfriend?” Felix asked.

“He has a close female friend, I think, maybe, yes.”

“Is that the same as a girlfriend?” Felix demanded.

His mother finally looked up at him. “Yes,” she said. “But honey, that’s what happens when people get divorced.”

“So I’ve heard,” Felix said, feeling weird. In his mind, even though his parents had been divorced for almost a whole year, he still pictured them together somehow. He knew that was dumb, but he couldn’t help it. They were his
parents
. They belonged together.

“I guess she’s not going to go swimming, then?” his mother said.

“Neither of us are,” Felix told her. “Great-Uncle Thorne uninvited us. He wants this to be a date or something.”

“A date!”

“Yeah,” Felix said, heading to his room to think.
“Apparently everyone is in love around here.”

“Well,” his mother said brightly, “it is spring, you know.”

Bitsy Beal lived in a mansion almost as big as Elm Medona. It had been built in 1898 by Lorne Allan Adrain, a railroad tycoon, and his wife, Zuzu, who was herself extravagantly rich. Zuzu decorated the house with more gold leaf and marble than any other mansion in Newport. Then, bored with it, she had Lorne build her another mansion right next door, and decorated that one entirely in orange, her favorite color. Bitsy’s father, who was an oilman from Texas, bought the orange mansion for his first wife in the 1980s and the one next door for his second wife ten years later.

When Maisie learned that, she’d said, “Isn’t it totally weird to live next door to your ex-wife?” But now that her own parents were dating other people, she wasn’t so sure it was weird after all. Maybe the kids from that first wife were just relieved to have their father nearby, even if it did mean having to live next door to a new wife and Bitsy.

Maisie looked over at the orange mansion while
she and Felix waited for someone to open the door to Bitsy’s. Inside that house were Bitsy’s stepsisters, who were in high school and had somehow survived their own parents getting divorced and dating and remarrying and even having another kid. She tried not to imagine having Bruce Fishbaum’s hockey-star kids as her stepsister and stepbrother, but the thought crept into her brain, anyway, and made her shudder.

“No one is going to understand your costume,” Felix told her for the millionth time.

He had on a bright yellow tuxedo jacket and blue bow tie and an oversize green top hat. Maisie was certain just about everybody was going to be the Mad Hatter. But she would be the only one clever enough to dress as one of the March sisters from
Little Women
. She smoothed her long dress, which was also green but a pleasant shade, like moss, and had dozens of tiny buttons down the front. Her shoes also had buttons. She’d found them in the trunk in her closet, too, along with a little hook to button all those buttons.