He ran after her, yelling, “You’ll catch your death, Elise. Come back!”
“Hey, Mr. Gardner, what are you doing? You’re getting your feet all wet! Hey!”
With a start, Tom whirled around. Jimmy was running down the beach toward him.
“Jeez, you scared me! I’ve been hollering at you and you didn’t answer,” Jimmy panted, trying to catch his breath. “What were you running after?”
“A ghost, Jimmy. A beautiful ghost.” Not wanting to frighten Jimmy, Tom put his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Just joking, kid.” He could think of nothing to explain his behavior, thought it best not to try. “If you think it’s okay, come back to the house. It’s too early to go to your house for dinner. I still need to change. You can play the piano while you wait for me.”
“Yay! You better change your shoes too. They're all wet. Mother won't like that.” Jimmy grinned and ran up the cliff stairs ahead of Tom.
Chapter 20
“Come on. This way, Mr. Gardner.” Jimmy and Tom entered the house through the back door. Tom followed Jimmy down a short hallway and into the kitchen.
“Jimmy, where are your manners? What’s wrong with you, bringing a guest in through the back? Your mama’s going to box your ears for sure,” a frail black woman scolded from across the room. She was stirring several pans, all emitted fabulous smells, making Tom’s mouth water. He was glad he'd come—at least for the food—not for the prospect of spending an evening with Vivian Harrison. He hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in weeks.
“Oh, Mannie. Mother won’t even know unless you tell her—she’s clear in the drawing room. We came up from the beach. Who the heck wants to walk all the way around the house when the door’s right here? It’s too cold outside. Who cares what door we come in anyway?”
“Your mama, that’s who. Now introduce me to your friend, then get on out of here before your mother comes checking on dinner.” She winked at Jimmy, then smiled at Tom.
“Mannie, this is Tom Gardner, our new neighbor. Mr. Gardner, this is Mannie Parker, the best cook in the world!” Tom and Mannie shook hands. “Come on, Mr. Gardner, before Mannie has a cow.” Tom followed Jimmy out of the kitchen and down a long hall toward the front of the house. They stopped in front of a set of mahogany, double doors, all the brass hardware buffed to a gleaming shine. “Wait here,” Jimmy whispered. He tiptoed to the front entryway and opened the door, then slammed it hard enough to make certain it would be heard behind the closed doors of the drawing room. Tom winked at him in understanding. Jimmy hurried down the hall to Tom. Smiling, he opened the doors and they entered the room.
Vivian stood in front of a black marble fireplace sipping a dark amber liquid from a cordial glass. She looked stunning in a simply cut, black silk dress. At her waist was a single, black velvet rose, accentuating her slim figure. Her pale blonde hair was pulled into a soft chignon, accenting her high cheekbones. Diamond and ruby earrings dangled from her ears. Her green eyes sparkled in the soft firelight.
“Good evening, Vivian.”
“Tom, darling. How wonderful to see you. Come here by the fire. You must be freezing.” She motioned for Tom to come and stand beside her. “Jimmy, take Mr. Gardner’s coat.”
Tom handed the boy his coat. “Be right back,” Jimmy said, leaving the room.
“Tom, what would you like to drink? I have brandy or sherry.”
“Brandy’s fine.” Tom watched Vivian, trying to guess her age. He guessed maybe thirty five, a few years younger than he. She certainly looked fabulous, obviously spent a lot of time taking care of herself. And probably a lot of money.
Sipping his drink, Tom discretely checked out the room. One thing was evident—the Harrisons had money. The room was furnished in what Tom guessed were authentic Louis XIV pieces, inlaid with gold and ivory. On one wall was a collection of Gainsborough landscapes. Very impressive.
“My, aren’t you the quiet one, Tom?” Vivian smiled coyly.
“I was admiring your paintings. Gainsboroughs?”
“Yes, aren’t they gorgeous? Such extravagant gifts from my husband, William. He bought them for me for my birthday last year. They were very difficult to come by, but somehow he managed to find them. He spoils me, but I do love it!” She laughed. “He’s such a dear. Come on, Tom, and I’ll take you on a tour of the main floor. That is if you’d like to see it?”
Not waiting for an answer, she took his arm and led him out of the drawing room. The rest of the main floor was just as extravagant; all of the furniture authentic antiques from this or that era— Queen Ann, Louis XVI or Louis XV. Tom was more and more curious as to what exactly William Harrison did to amass his obvious fortune. Another brandy or two, and he just might ask.
The mysterious cousin still hadn't made an appearance. When Tom asked about her, Vivian explained, “Sara's resting; she'll join us in a while.” Back in the drawing room, while they waited to be called to dinner, Vivian poured them another brandy. Tom began to relax. Billy came into the room and stood at the fireplace, glaring at Tom. Tom smiled and asked how he was enjoying his holiday vacation.
Billy mumbled, “Fine.”
“You’ll have to forgive Billy,” Vivian said. “He had a big disappointment today.” Vivian patted her son's shoulder. His friend George called, and he isn’t able to join us for the holiday. Billy was looking forward to having him here. My poor dear is very upset. Aren’t you, Billy?” Billy didn't answer, rudely pushing Vivian's hand off his shoulder.
“Sorry to hear that,” Tom said, thinking, Brat. “Maybe you could invite someone else. It’s still a few weeks until Thanksgiving. I’ll bet you have lots of friends who’d jump at the chance to spend the holiday here.” There must be a punk or two whose parents would love to get rid of them.
“What a good idea, Tom. Billy, I bet Alan would love to come,” she said, then explained to Tom, “Alan’s an only child, he's probably bored to death. Maybe you know the family? Alan’s father is Dr. Raymond James.” Vivian’s eyes were intent on Tom's.
“I don’t know Raymond, but I know his brother, Nicholas. We were at Yale together. I haven’t heard from him in years. I heard he’s a surgeon in Baltimore. I guess I should look him up sometime.” Tom knew he never would. Nicholas was a real jerk. Boring and arrogant as well.
“Billy, why don’t you call Alan before we sit down to dinner?” Vivian said, dismissing her son. Tom was greatly relieved to have him out of the room.
“I have some exciting news, Tom. I talked to one of my New York friends today. When I told her who I was having over for dinner tonight, she told me she knows you!” She watched Tom’s face. “Aren’t you curious who she is?”
Tom could tell by the frown that momentarily shadowed her face that she was expecting more of a reaction. He felt nothing, except perhaps dread.
“Don’t you want to know who?” Her eyes twinkled as she waited for his answer.
Not really. Vivian watched him, disappointment registering in her voice at his lack of enthusiasm, though he sensed she enjoyed putting him on the spot. Okay, he’d bite. “Of course I do. Who?” Tom didn't like the games she was playing. He’d get through this evening, then keep his distance.
“Catherine Connors!” She spat the name, almost giggling with delight.
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Catherine Connors,” Vivian said again, obviously frustrated. She was quiet for a second. “Maybe you know her by her maiden name? Let me think. I know I know it. Hmm.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I remember. Balantyne.”
“Cathy Balantyne?” Tom