Page 106
Story: Willow (DeBeers 1)
'Absolutely brilliant people working for them," Asher said.
I listened to them go on and on about their guests for the party, rattling off the names of businesses, chain stores. Clothing designers, drug company heirs. CEOs of major corporations, a veritable Who's Who of wealth and power in America.
All on our little doorstep." Bunny said proudly. "And all for you, dear." she pointed out. "Asher. Thatcher. and I will introduce you to everyone and anyone you wish to meet."
"I'm exhausted just thinking about it," I said. I was serious, but that made them laugh.
Afterward. I went to my room to change, and Thatcher called to tell me he was sorry but he would be tied up with meetings all the way through dinner. I told him I was fine and not to be concerned.
"What have you been doing with yourself?" he asked suspiciously.
"Enjoying the day," I said. "But organizing the information I have already gathered as well.'
"Good. I'd hate to be responsible for your failing your course," he quipped. However, there was some concern in his tone. I had the feeling he had already spoken with Bunny, who was giving him a minute-by-minute report on my comings and goings. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stay here after all.
At precisely two-thirty, I made my way toward the beach house, hoping that my mother was sitting outside and having her tea again with Linden, When I turned the corner. however.
I saw no one was there. Disappointed. I walked out toward the beach and stood looking at the ocean, wondering if I should just go knock on the door and ask to speak with her.
"Isabel Amou." I heard, and turned to see her standing behind me. She was wearing a light white shawl over her shoulders and a sleeveless white dress. She was barefoot, and her hair was down,
"Hello," I said.
She studied me a moment and then smiled softly and folded her arms under her breasts.
"Walk with me." she said, starting off to her left.
I caught up quickly, my heart thumping so hard I thought I would fold up on the beach like some limp chiffon scarf.
"How is your father?" she asked after we had walked in silence for nearly a minute.
I stopped. She stopped and turned to me. "You know who I am?"
"Of course," she said. "First. I could see him in you the moment I set eyes on you, and second..."
"What?"
"Your name." She laughed softly. "A long time ago. I heard of a nanny named Isabella whose charge had nicknamed her Amou"
I remembered her letter to Daddy.
Subconsciously. perhaps, I had used the name hoping to give myself away.
"Yes, he told you that."
It wasn't a very subtle clue."
"Did he keep in touch with you much?"
"I have some letters," she said, smiling softly-- at the memory of each and every word on the stationery, I was sure. "It was more difficult for me to write to him, but I did what I could, Did he send you to me?"
Not directly, no. but I think he wanted me to meet you someday," I said.
"Wanted?"
Every muscle in her body, every tiny muscle in her face, froze in anticipation. The tears in my eyes were answer enough.
"When?" she asked, holding her breath.
Table of Contents
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