Heaven Sent (19 page)

“
Oh, no!” It looked as if a
light had just gone on in Becky’s head. “I see what you mean.” She
nodded.

“
I knew you would.” Callie
gave Becky an approving smile.

Aubrey, astounded, glared at her. She
gazed back at him calmly and said, “Becky has been extremely lucky
in some ways, Mr. Lockhart. She’s had the undivided attention of
her parents—well, until the last year, at least—and the good hick
to have had someone work with her on her letters before she started
attending school. Not all of the children with whom Becky goes to
school have been so fortunate.”

“
Fortunate!” Aubrey couldn’t
believe she’d actually said that.

“
Fortunate,” Callie repeated
firmly. She smiled at Becky. “Don’t you feel fortunate, Becky? To
have learned so much before you started going to school, I mean. In
other respects, of course, you weren’t fortunate at
all.”

Becky, evidently unperturbed by
Callie’s choice of words or the veiled reference to her deceased
mother, chewed thoughtfully and pondered the question.

Aubrey was about to take Miss Prophet
to task for what he considered a series of ill-chosen
comments—“fortunate,” indeed!—when Becky beat him to it.

“
Oh, yes. I see ezackly what
you mean, Miss Prophet. I am lucky to know my letters already. And
I don’t want them to think I’m stuck-up.” Becky smiled brightly at
her nanny. “I know what I’ll do! I’ll try to act just like
you.”

Aubrey didn’t suppress his groan in
time to prevent some of it from escaping. Callie cast him a
withering glower.

“
You never make me feel
stupid.” Becky seemed unaware of the disturbances going on between
the two adults sharing the dining table with her. “I’ll try to act
like you when I help the other children.”

“
Thank you for the
commendation, Becky,” Miss Prophet said, shooting another
meaningful glance at Becky’s papa. “I appreciate it.”

“
Oh,” said Becky, grinning
up a storm. “I think you’re
super
.”

Aubrey decided to let his daughter’s
misapprehension about her nanny slide so as not to wound her. Then
again, he thought suddenly, perhaps Becky was right. As much as he
hated to admit it, life did seem to have become less oppressive
since Miss Prophet’s arrival in his home. He gazed at Callie for so
long, she finally stopped pretending not to notice, and frowned at
him.

He grumbled to himself as he cut
another piece of the delicious roast pork Mrs. Granger had served
for dinner. Or, perhaps he’d been right about her in the first
place. She certainly seemed to possess no understanding of the
social divisions separating employer from employee.

*****

Aubrey decided to forego the rigors of
business after dinner that night. He’d enjoyed Becky’s recounting
of her first day at school, Miss Prophet had managed to get through
the entire meal without irritating him more than twice or thrice,
and he was feeling quite a bit more relaxed than usual. Besides,
while he’d started immersing himself in business all the time in
order not to dwell on his personal tragedies, he was getting sick
of it.

He plucked
Treasure Island
from a
high shelf in his library where he’d stuck it when he and Anne had
first moved to Santa Angelica. Aubrey didn’t remember exactly why
he’d kept the book; he’d read it when it had first been published
in 1883, even though he wasn’t a child at the time, and had enjoyed
it thoroughly.

Mulling it over now and
remembering his first days in this house, when life had seemed pure
and perfect and blessed, he seemed to recall thinking it had been a
rousing and entertaining novel. He also recalled thinking that if
he and Anne should ever have a son, it would be fun to read
Treasure Island
to
him.

With a sigh, he turned the book over
in his hands, staring at it. Life had been full of love and promise
in those days. Now it was flat and dull.

Perhaps not dull. Not anymore. He
smiled when his mind pictured how excited Becky had been at
dinner.

Besides, he really needed to stop
dwelling in the past. He’d loved Anne absolutely, but Anne was
dead. He owed it to his daughter—and, he supposed, to himself—to
stop wallowing in despair. After all, Becky needed him. And,
honestly, when he thought about it, it seemed more that he’d become
accustomed to being unhappy than that he truly was unhappy these
days. Grief had become more of a habit with him than a genuine
emotion. How strange. Aubrey took a moment to savor the possibility
that he’d just hit upon something profound.

By God, he’d never even considered the
concept that the appearance of grief might become a routine—not
unlike thinking of oneself in a certain way. Aubrey wondered if
Great-Aunt Evelyn Bilgewater thought of herself as a nice person,
for example.

The ramification of this new discovery
was too much to take in all at once, even for him in a
contemplative mood. He decided to think about it later.

He took
Treasure Island
to the back parlor,
poured himself a cup of tea, sat in his favorite chair, propped his
feet on the ottoman, turned up the lamp, and settled in for a good
read. He felt slightly childish at first, rereading this old book,
but he consoled himself with the thought that Becky would
appreciate him being up-to-date on her super teacher’s super
reading. He chuckled once before he lost himself in the foggy
English coastline.

A knock on the door frame startled him
out of the tavern he and Long John Silver had been sharing.
Glancing up, he saw Miss Prophet standing in the doorway, her hands
folded primly in front of her. How one person’s hands could lie so
eloquently, Aubrey had no idea.

Putting a finger in the book to hold
his place, he said, “Yes, Miss Prophet? You wish to speak to
me?”

“
Yes, Mr. Lockhart. If you
aren’t too busy.” She gazed pointedly at the book in his
lap.

Aubrey felt his neck get
hot. Good God, was he going to blush in front of this impertinent
nanny just because he was reading a child’s book? He steeled his
nerves. “Please, have a seat.” Because he couldn’t think of a way
to avoid the issue, he lifted
Treasure
Island
. “Becky’s chatter at the dinner
table reminded me how good this book is, so I’m rereading
it.”

She smiled at him. Unless he was
mistaken, which was quite likely, it actually looked like a genuine
smile with no brittle edges to it. “Yes, it’s a wonderful book,
isn’t it? I’m glad Myrtle decided to read it to the children,
instead of something insipid. You can’t fool children, you
know.”

He hadn’t known that but opted not to
say so. Instead, he murmured, “Who’s Myrtle?”

“
Oh. I forgot you aren’t
acquainted with very many of your neighbors, are you?”

Aubrey had been pretty sure she
wouldn’t be able to maintain her neutrality for long, and he’d been
correct. Talk about brittle edges. He did not, however, snatch at
the bait she dangled so tauntingly before him. “No. Since my
business is in San Francisco, and since my wife was so sick for so
long, I’m afraid I’ve never had much of a chance to meet many of my
neighbors.” He gave her a smile he hoped she’d choke on.

Miss Prophet did look slightly
abashed, and Aubrey felt better for it.

“
Yes, well, I’m sure I
didn’t mean to criticize.”

“
I’m sure.”

She cleared her throat. “Actually,
that’s what I’d like to speak with you about this evening, Mr.
Lockhart.”

He looked at her blankly. “My
neighbors?”

“
In a way.” She finally took
his suggestion and sat in a chair some few feet away from his own.
“Becky’s seventh birthday is coming right up. In October. That’s
only a little less than a month away.”

“
Yes. I recollect the day of
her birth quite well, thank you, Miss Prophet.”

He saw her lips pinch together and
wished he’d managed to contain the dryness of his tone.

“
Yes, well, I thought it
would be fun for Becky to have a birthday party.”

“
A birthday party?” Aubrey
had never heard of a birthday party and to be honest, he wasn’t
quite sure what having a birthday party entailed.

Miss Prophet nodded. “Yes. I
understand from Myrtle—Miss Oakes—and from my sisters and brother,
that people are beginning to host small parties for children on
their birthdays nowadays. It would be a wonderful way for Becky to
get to know her classmates better, don’t you think?”

“
A birthday party. Hmm.” He
frowned, not sure if he liked the notion. “Where would this party
be held?”

“
Oh, here, of course.” She
smiled winningly.

She looked charming—and not at all
rowdy or impertinent—when she smiled at him that way. In truth,
Aubrey found himself responding to her smile rather more heatedly
than he approved of.

“
A party to be held here.”
He tried to think of something other than her smile. “I
see.”

“
I believe Becky would enjoy
it a good deal, and the other children would come to understand
that she isn’t so different from them just because her father has
more money than their fathers have.”

Aubrey felt his eyes widen. “Do they
think she’s different for that reason?”

“
I’m afraid so, Mr.
Lockhart. While some of the adults who live in Santa Angelica have
come to know you slightly, as they came to know your wife, whom
they all liked and admired, Becky has been quite isolated during
these past years. And they are very important years in a child’s
life, too. Miss Oakes and I have spoken of it often.”

He didn’t at all like the notion of
Miss Prophet and Miss Oakes gossiping about him and his
daughter—particularly since he knew good and well that Miss
Prophet’s part in the conversation wouldn’t show him in a favorable
light. He frowned. “Is that so?”

“
Don’t worry, Mr. Lockhart,
I haven’t given away any family secrets.” She waved a hand in an
airy gesture and gave him a look that came mighty close to a
smirk.

He didn’t think it was funny. “Of
course not. How could you, since you don’t know any?”

The look on her face puzzled him, but
he didn’t ask about it. It seemed strange, however, that her smirk
should have vanished and been replaced by an expression of longing.
She didn’t give him the opportunity to think about it for very
long.

“
So, what is your verdict on
this idea, Mr. Lockhart? May I plan to have a birthday party for
Becky and invite several of her new friends?”

He frowned. The notion of a horde of
small children dashing about his home didn’t appeal to him very
much. He knew, however, that he owed Becky a lot if he intended to
make up for his neglect over the past year. More than a year, if he
counted the days he’d spent worrying over Anne before she died. The
sigh he sighed felt as though it had been wrenched from his toes,
“Very well. I suppose Becky deserves a party.”

Callie jumped to her feet. “Oh, thank
you, Mr. Lockhart! I haven’t broached the subject with Becky yet
because I didn’t want to disappoint her if you didn’t approve of
the notion, but tell her first thing tomorrow.”

“
Fine, fine. You do
that.”

To his astonishment, Callie actually
dipped him a curtsy before she turned and headed toward the door of
the library. Aubrey watched the way her hips swayed and wondered if
a nanny’s hips were supposed to do that. He supposed that, all
things considered, nannies had no more power to order bodies to
certain specifications than any of the rest of the people in the
world. It did seem, though, that, in a just world, she ought not to
have such a superb figure.

There he went again, fretting about
the injustice of life. He shook his head and was about to wrench
his gaze from Callie’s hips when she surprised him again by turning
abruptly at the door. With one hand holding the jamb, she gazed at
him for a couple of seconds. It wasn’t a long time, but it was
fully long enough for Aubrey to get a queasy feeling in his
tummy.

Because he believed in facing problems
squarely and not allowing them to fester or sneak up on him, he
said, more sharply than was strictly necessary, “Yes? Is there
something else you wish to discuss, Miss Prophet?”

“
Yes. I mean, no. I mean . .
. Oh, dear.”

She put a palm to her cheek. Aubrey
started to worry. She wasn’t going to quit, was she? Not right
after he’d acquiesced on the subject of a birthday
party.

Birthday party. Whoever heard of such
a thing? The world was becoming a more frivolous place by the
hour.

“
What is it, Miss Prophet?”
He held his breath.

She flung a hand out. “It’s nothing,
really, Mr. Lockhart. It’s only that—that— Mr. Lockhart, I
apologize if I’ve been unpleasant to you on occasion during these
past weeks. While, at first, I blamed you for neglecting Becky,
I’ve since come to understand more fully the nature of your
loss.”