All the way home, Meredith tried to imagine actually flirting with Parker. His birthday was the day after tomorrow—she'd memorized that fact a year ago, when she first realized she was falling in love with him. Last week she'd spent an hour in the drugstore looking for the right card to give him tomorrow night, but the cards that said what she really felt would have been much, much too gushy. Naive though she was, she figured Parker wouldn't appreciate a card that said on the front "To my one and only love .. ." So she'd regretfully had to settle for one that said "Happy Birthday to a Special Friend."
Leaning her head back, Meredith closed her eyes, smiling dreamily as she pictured herself looking like a gorgeous model, saying witty, clever things while Parker hung on to her every word.
Chapter 2
With a sinking heart Meredith stared at herself in the mirror while Mrs. Ellis stood back, nodding approval. When Mrs. Ellis and she had gone shopping last week, the velvet dress had seemed to be a glowing topaz. Tonight it looked like metallic brown velvet, and her shoes that had been dyed to match had a matronly look with their short, stocky heels. Mrs. Ellis's taste ran to the matronly, Meredith knew; moreover, she and Meredith had both been under her father's strictures to choose a dress that was "suitable for a young girl of Meredith's age and upbringing." They'd brought three dresses home for Meredith's father's approval, and this was the only one that he hadn't felt was entirely too "bare" or too "flimsy."
The only thing about her appearance that didn't fill Meredith with dismay was her hair. Normally she wore her straight shoulder-length hair parted on the side with one barrette above the ear, but Lisa's remarks had convinced her she did need a new, more sophisticated style. Tonight she'd persuaded Mrs. Ellis to do it up in a cluster of thick curls at the crown with little tendrils at the ears, and Meredith thought it looked very nice.
"Meredith," her father said, walking into her room, leafing through a handful of opera tickets, "Park Reynolds needed two extra tickets to Rigoletto, and I told him he could use ours. Would you give these to young Parker tonight, when you—" He looked up, his eyes riveting on her, and scowled. "What have you done to your hair?" he snapped.
"I thought I'd wear it up tonight."
"I prefer your hair the way you usually wear it, Meredith." Bending a look of dark displeasure on Mrs. Ellis, he said, "When you came into my employ, madam, I thought we agreed that in addition to your supervisory duties as housekeeper, you would also advise my daughter on feminine matters when necessary. Is that hairdo your idea of—"
"I specifically asked Mrs. Ellis to help me do my hair this way, Father," Meredith intervened as Mrs. Ellis turned pale and began to tremble.
"In that case, you should have asked her advice," Philip said, "instead of telling her what you wanted her to do."
"Yes, of course," Meredith said. She hated to disappoint her father or annoy him. He made her feel as if she were singularly responsible for the success or failure of his entire day or night if she spoiled his mood.
"Well, no harm done," he conceded, seeing that Meredith was properly contrite. "Mrs. Ellis can fix up your hair before you leave. I brought you something, my dear. A necklace," he added, withdrawing a flat, dark green velvet case from his pocket. "You may wear it tonight— it will look very well with your gown." Meredith waited while he fidgeted with the clasp, imagining a gold locket perhaps or—"These are your grandmother Bancroft's pearls," he announced, and it took an effort for her to hide her dismay while he withdrew the long strand of fat pearls. "Turn around and I'll fasten them."
Twenty minutes later, Meredith stood before the mirror, trying valiantly to convince herself she looked nice. Her hair was restyled in the same straight, girlish fashion she always wore, but the pearls were the last straw. Her grandmother had worn them nearly every day of her life; she'd died wearing them, and now they felt like leaden weights against Meredith's nonexistent bosom. "Excuse me, miss." The family butler's voice outside her door brought her whirling around. "There's a Miss Pontini downstairs who claims to be a school friend of yours."
Trapped, Meredith sank down on the side of her bed, thinking madly for some way out of this, but there was none and she knew it. "Would you bring her here, please."
A minute later Lisa walked in and looked around the room as if she'd suddenly found herself on a strange planet. "I tried to call," she said, "but your telephone was busy for an hour, so I decided to take a chance and come over." Pausing, she turned in a half circle, studying everything. "Who owns this pile of rocks anyway?"
At any other time, that irreverent description of this house would have made Meredith giggle. Now she could only say in a small, strained voice, "My father does."
Lisa's expression hardened. "I pretty much figured that out when the man who answered the front door called you Miss Meredith in the same voice Father Vickers says 'Holy Virgin Mary." Turning on her heel, Lisa started for the door.
"Lisa, wait!" Meredith pleaded.
"You've had your little joke. This has really been a great day," Lisa added sarcastically, whirling back around. "First Mario takes me out for a ride and tries to get my clothes off—and when I go over to my 'friend's house, I find out she's been making a fool of me."
"No, I haven't!" Meredith cried. "I let you think Fenwick—our chauffeur—was my father because I was afraid the truth would come between us."
"Oh, sure. Right," Lisa countered with scornful disbe lief. "Rich little you desperately wanted to be friends with poor little me. I'll bet you and all your rich friends have been laughing about my ma begging you to have spaghetti with us and—"
"Stop it!" Meredith burst out. "You don't understand! I like your mother and father, and I wanted you for a friend. You have brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and all the things I've always wished I had. What makes you think that because I live in this stupid house, everything is automatically wonderful? Look how it's affected you! One look and you don't want anything to do with me, and that's how it's been at school for as long as I can remember. And for your information," she finished, "I love spaghetti. I love houses like yours, where people laugh and shout!"
She broke off as the anger on Lisa's face was replaced by a sarcastic smile. "You love noise, is that it?"
Leaning her head back, Meredith closed her eyes, smiling dreamily as she pictured herself looking like a gorgeous model, saying witty, clever things while Parker hung on to her every word.
Chapter 2
With a sinking heart Meredith stared at herself in the mirror while Mrs. Ellis stood back, nodding approval. When Mrs. Ellis and she had gone shopping last week, the velvet dress had seemed to be a glowing topaz. Tonight it looked like metallic brown velvet, and her shoes that had been dyed to match had a matronly look with their short, stocky heels. Mrs. Ellis's taste ran to the matronly, Meredith knew; moreover, she and Meredith had both been under her father's strictures to choose a dress that was "suitable for a young girl of Meredith's age and upbringing." They'd brought three dresses home for Meredith's father's approval, and this was the only one that he hadn't felt was entirely too "bare" or too "flimsy."
The only thing about her appearance that didn't fill Meredith with dismay was her hair. Normally she wore her straight shoulder-length hair parted on the side with one barrette above the ear, but Lisa's remarks had convinced her she did need a new, more sophisticated style. Tonight she'd persuaded Mrs. Ellis to do it up in a cluster of thick curls at the crown with little tendrils at the ears, and Meredith thought it looked very nice.
"Meredith," her father said, walking into her room, leafing through a handful of opera tickets, "Park Reynolds needed two extra tickets to Rigoletto, and I told him he could use ours. Would you give these to young Parker tonight, when you—" He looked up, his eyes riveting on her, and scowled. "What have you done to your hair?" he snapped.
"I thought I'd wear it up tonight."
"I prefer your hair the way you usually wear it, Meredith." Bending a look of dark displeasure on Mrs. Ellis, he said, "When you came into my employ, madam, I thought we agreed that in addition to your supervisory duties as housekeeper, you would also advise my daughter on feminine matters when necessary. Is that hairdo your idea of—"
"I specifically asked Mrs. Ellis to help me do my hair this way, Father," Meredith intervened as Mrs. Ellis turned pale and began to tremble.
"In that case, you should have asked her advice," Philip said, "instead of telling her what you wanted her to do."
"Yes, of course," Meredith said. She hated to disappoint her father or annoy him. He made her feel as if she were singularly responsible for the success or failure of his entire day or night if she spoiled his mood.
"Well, no harm done," he conceded, seeing that Meredith was properly contrite. "Mrs. Ellis can fix up your hair before you leave. I brought you something, my dear. A necklace," he added, withdrawing a flat, dark green velvet case from his pocket. "You may wear it tonight— it will look very well with your gown." Meredith waited while he fidgeted with the clasp, imagining a gold locket perhaps or—"These are your grandmother Bancroft's pearls," he announced, and it took an effort for her to hide her dismay while he withdrew the long strand of fat pearls. "Turn around and I'll fasten them."
Twenty minutes later, Meredith stood before the mirror, trying valiantly to convince herself she looked nice. Her hair was restyled in the same straight, girlish fashion she always wore, but the pearls were the last straw. Her grandmother had worn them nearly every day of her life; she'd died wearing them, and now they felt like leaden weights against Meredith's nonexistent bosom. "Excuse me, miss." The family butler's voice outside her door brought her whirling around. "There's a Miss Pontini downstairs who claims to be a school friend of yours."
Trapped, Meredith sank down on the side of her bed, thinking madly for some way out of this, but there was none and she knew it. "Would you bring her here, please."
A minute later Lisa walked in and looked around the room as if she'd suddenly found herself on a strange planet. "I tried to call," she said, "but your telephone was busy for an hour, so I decided to take a chance and come over." Pausing, she turned in a half circle, studying everything. "Who owns this pile of rocks anyway?"
At any other time, that irreverent description of this house would have made Meredith giggle. Now she could only say in a small, strained voice, "My father does."
Lisa's expression hardened. "I pretty much figured that out when the man who answered the front door called you Miss Meredith in the same voice Father Vickers says 'Holy Virgin Mary." Turning on her heel, Lisa started for the door.
"Lisa, wait!" Meredith pleaded.
"You've had your little joke. This has really been a great day," Lisa added sarcastically, whirling back around. "First Mario takes me out for a ride and tries to get my clothes off—and when I go over to my 'friend's house, I find out she's been making a fool of me."
"No, I haven't!" Meredith cried. "I let you think Fenwick—our chauffeur—was my father because I was afraid the truth would come between us."
"Oh, sure. Right," Lisa countered with scornful disbe lief. "Rich little you desperately wanted to be friends with poor little me. I'll bet you and all your rich friends have been laughing about my ma begging you to have spaghetti with us and—"
"Stop it!" Meredith burst out. "You don't understand! I like your mother and father, and I wanted you for a friend. You have brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and all the things I've always wished I had. What makes you think that because I live in this stupid house, everything is automatically wonderful? Look how it's affected you! One look and you don't want anything to do with me, and that's how it's been at school for as long as I can remember. And for your information," she finished, "I love spaghetti. I love houses like yours, where people laugh and shout!"
She broke off as the anger on Lisa's face was replaced by a sarcastic smile. "You love noise, is that it?"
