Second Child Part 21

Freda Bennett peered at the price tag. "Seventy-five dollars," she said. "It's an antique." She placed the tiara on Teri's head, and Teri turned to look at herself in a gilt-framed mirror that hung on the opposite wall. Sighing, she took it off and handed it back to Mrs. Bennett. "It's perfect, but I can't afford it."

"We'll take it," Melissa said just as the shop manager was about to return the tiara to the case.

Teri turned to look uncertainly at her half sister. "But we can't," she protested. "I don't have the money."

"But I do," Melissa replied, grinning as she groped in her purse for her wallet.

Teri stared at the wad of bills stuffed into the wallet. "Where'd you get all that?" she breathed.

Melissa shrugged. "It's from my allowance. All I ever buy are paperback books, and Daddy gives me money practically every weekend, but I never spend it. So you pay for the dress, and I'll buy the tiara for you."

"But-"

Melissa shook her head. "I want want to buy it for you. It'll make your costume perfect. Please?" to buy it for you. It'll make your costume perfect. Please?"

Teri smiled, and let Mrs. Bennett wrap up the tiara.

Half an hour later, as they were about to leave the drugstore, the door opened and Brett Van Arsdale, followed by Kent Fielding, came in. A grin spread across his face as he saw Teri. "Hey, there you are. Just the person I've been looking for."

Teri c.o.c.ked her head. "Me?"

Brett nodded. "Kent's dad is going to let us take their boat out this afternoon. I just thought you might want to go along."

Teri glanced quickly at Melissa, who seemed suddenly to have become fascinated with a display of magazines just inside the door. "Who all's going?" she asked.

"Everybody," Brett replied. "Us, and Jeff, and Ellen. Maybe Cyndi and a couple of others. You want to come?"

Teri turned to Melissa. "What do you think?" she asked. "Should we go?"

Melissa turned around, her cheeks flus.h.i.+ng, certain that Brett hadn't meant to include her in the invitation. "I-I don't know-" she floundered. "If you want to go-"

Teri nodded eagerly. "Of course I want to go! What kind of boat is it?" she asked, turning back to Brett. "Is it a sailboat?"

Brett nodded. "It's not much-just a thirty-two-foot Lord Nelson." His eyes involuntarily flicked toward Melissa. "If Melissa doesn't want to come-" he began.

But Teri cut him off. "Why wouldn't she want to?" she said. "What time shall we meet you?"

Brett glanced at Kent, then shrugged. "I don't know-two o'clock?"

The time agreed to, Teri and Melissa left the drugstore and started back toward Maplecrest. As soon as they were gone, Kent glared at Brett. "Smooth move, Van Arsdale. Now we're going to be stuck with Melissa all afternoon."

"Well, what was I supposed to do? She was standing right there. Besides, what's the big deal? It's not like she's your date or anything." Then, as a thought occurred to him, he snickered. "Jesus, it'll be worth it just to see the look on Jeff's face when she shows up. He'll think we did it on purpose."

Kent rolled his eyes. "You really got it bad for Teri, haven't you? I mean, so far you've asked her out twice, and both times she's dragged Melissa along. What are they, Siamese twins?"

"Well, what's she going to do?" Brett countered. "She barely got here, and she's already got more friends than Melissa. She's just trying to be nice to her sister, that's all."

"So all the rest of us have to put up with her, too?" Kent groused. "s.h.i.+t, next thing, you'll be trying to get me me to take her out." to take her out."

Brett gave his friend a punch on the arm. "Who knows?" he teased. "You might fall for her." He ducked away quickly as Kent took a swing at him, then darted out the door.

But as Kent fell in beside him again, he wondered what was really going on. Was Was Teri ever going to go out with him without insisting that Melissa go along? Teri ever going to go out with him without insisting that Melissa go along?

Well, he'd wait until after the dance Sat.u.r.day night and see what happened. After all, she couldn't insist on him finding dates for Melissa if no one would go out with her.

Still, that was one of the things he really liked about Teri-she always seemed to care about what other people were feeling.

Even people no one else cared about, like Melissa Holloway.

He turned to Kent, grinning. "She's really nice, isn't she?" he asked.

Kent c.o.c.ked his head. "Who?"

"Teri," Brett replied. "You know what? I think she's about the nicest girl I've ever met."

Melissa's step slowed as they approached the small marina tucked in behind the leeward side of the point that formed the south boundary of the cove. "M-Maybe I'll just stay here," she suggested to Teri, her eyes nervously scanning the whitecaps that were scattered across the surface of the sea beyond the protection of the cove. "What if I get seasick?"

"Why would you do that?" Teri asked, though she remembered perfectly well the conversation they'd had one day last week, when they'd been sprawled out on the beach watching a regatta of small boats wheeling around the cove.

"How come we don't have a boat?" she'd asked. Melissa had giggled. "Because Daddy and I both get seasick. He took me fis.h.i.+ng for my tenth birthday, and we both barfed our brains out. It was really gross. I don't care if I never get on a boat again."

Now, her eyes widening as if she'd just recalled the conversation, Teri looked at Melissa apologetically. "Oh, G.o.d. I forgot." But then she brightened. "But that was a long time ago," she said. "You'll be fine. Besides, look at the water. The cove's perfectly flat-why would you get sick?"

Melissa rolled her eyes. "I'm getting sick just thinking about it." They were on the dock now, and Melissa came to a complete stop. "Would you be real mad if I didn't go?" she asked, her voice anxious.

"Of course not," Teri a.s.sured her. "If I'd remembered, I wouldn't have told them we'd go at all. But what are we going to tell your mom?"

"M-Maybe we don't have to tell her," Melissa suggested. "I could just wait here till you get back, and she wouldn't know I didn't go."

Teri shook her head. "She'd find out. She's coming to the club this afternoon, and you know how she is. She'll be talking about how we're both out on the Fieldings' yacht and acting like it's a big deal. And if anyone spills the beans that you didn't go..."

Melissa groaned, knowing Teri was right. She could already hear her mother, furiously telling her how rude she'd been to accept an invitation and then not go. And then later tonight, after she'd gone to bed...

And besides, she thought, Teri's right. If I concentrate real hard and stay up in the fresh air, I'll be fine. And if I don't go, I'll just look like I chickened out. "You're right," she said, making her voice sound a lot more confident than she felt. "Why should the kids like me if I won't ever do what they like to do?"

Teri gave her arm a rea.s.suring squeeze. "Good for you," she said. "And it'll be all right-you'll see. It'll be fun."

They walked down the dock and found the boat, Zargon, Zargon, its varnished teak gleaming in the sun, the rest of the kids already on board. Teri and Melissa stepped onto the deck and down into the c.o.c.kpit as Jeff and Brett loosened the dock lines and Kent started the engine. its varnished teak gleaming in the sun, the rest of the kids already on board. Teri and Melissa stepped onto the deck and down into the c.o.c.kpit as Jeff and Brett loosened the dock lines and Kent started the engine.

Teri looked at him uncertainly. "I thought we were sailing."

"We are," Kent replied. "But the wind's all wrong to try to sail away from the dock. We'll go out into the cove and put the sails up there."

Jeff and Brett cast the lines off, then jumped aboard as Kent pulled the boat away from the dock. "I'm opening c.o.kes," Ellen Stevens called from below. "Anyone want one?"

"I'll come down and help," Teri replied, ducking her head as she made her way down the narrow companion-way into the cabin. A moment later she emerged, holding three cans of soda. She pa.s.sed them out, giving the last one to Melissa, who shook her head.

"You better drink it," Teri urged her. "It'll help keep your stomach settled."

Kent's eyes s.h.i.+fted over to Melissa. "Oh, no," he moaned. "You don't get seasick, do you?"

"Once," Teri told him, as Melissa's face turned crimson. "She only got sick once, and that was years ago. She'll be fine."

"Well, she better be," Kent shot back. "Dad'll kill me if she pukes all over the boat."

Melissa bit her lip as her eyes welled with tears, but then she forced herself to stay calm. All she had to do was sit still and keep her eyes on the sh.o.r.eline and she'd be fine. But still, she took the c.o.ke from Teri, who gave her an encouraging grin.

Kent took the boat out into the middle of the cove, cut the engine, and signaled to Brett to raise the main sail. Brett began hauling on the sheet and the canvas lifted upward, snapping loudly as it caught the breeze. A minute later Jeff Barnstable began hoisting the jib, while Ellen and Cyndi manned the lines. With the sails set, Kent brought the boat around, and suddenly the sails filled and the boat heeled over. Melissa, caught by surprise by the sudden s.h.i.+fting of the hull, almost dropped her c.o.ke, but grabbed it just before it spilled onto the deck.

"This is great!" Teri sighed as the boat began to pick up speed. "Don't you love it?"

Melissa, sitting rigidly in the c.o.c.kpit, hanging on to the gunwale so hard her fingers ached, forced herself to look away from the beach a couple of hundred yards away and face her half sister. Teri was stretched out on the opposite side of the boat, her hair blowing in the breeze, her face tipped up to catch the sun.

"Relax," Teri told her. "Just stretch out and enjoy it."

The boat cruised smoothly northward, the only noise the gentle swis.h.i.+ng of the water as the hull cut through the cove. Ellen Stevens and Cyndi Miller came up from the cabin, moved forward, and stretched out on the foredeck, while Brett came back to the c.o.c.kpit to drop down next to Teri. "What do you think?" he asked. "Like it?"

"I love it," Teri replied, s.h.i.+fting her legs to make room for him. "Where are we going?"

Brett shrugged. "I don't know. Where do you want to go?"

Teri glanced out to the open sea. "Can we go out there?"

"Sure," Brett replied. "Hey, Kent. Can I take the helm?"

Kent slid out from behind the wheel at the stern, and Brett took over. "Ready about," he called out, and Jeff quickly released the jib sheet on the port side and handed it to Melissa.

"Do you know what to do?" Jeff asked, and Melissa shook her head. Jeff rolled his eyes impatiently. "Just hang on to it, and let go when Brett calls out 'coming about,' okay?" Without waiting for an answer, he crossed to the starboard side and took the other sheet.

"Coming about," Brett called out, spinning the wheel. Melissa dropped her line and the jib flapped in the wind. A second later Jeff hauled in on the sheet, and then, as the main swung over, the jib filled again and the boat heeled over the other way, its bow pointing out to the open sea.

Five minutes later they pa.s.sed through the opening to the cove, and almost immediately the swell increased and the bow of the boat began rising and falling. A moment later, steadying themselves with the boat's lifelines, Ellen and Cyndi came back from the bow and settled into the c.o.c.kpit.

Melissa felt the first faint beginnings of queasiness stir in her stomach, and reached for her can of c.o.ke. She drank deeply, but the sweet liquid didn't seem to help.

No, she told herself. I'm not going to get SICK SICK. I'm going to be all right.

Brett adjusted the tack and trimmed the main sail, and the boat gained a little speed. The wind picked up, and more whitecaps appeared. They were in a heavy swell now, and Melissa glanced nervously at Teri. But her half sister, sitting up on the gunwale, seemed oblivious to the pitching of the boat.

The queasiness in Melissa's stomach got worse, and finally she turned to Brett. "M-Maybe we better go back," she said. "I don't think I feel very good."

"Go below," Brett told her. "Just lie down for a few minutes. You'll be fine."

Melissa hesitated. The last time she'd gotten sick, when she and her father had been out on the fis.h.i.+ng boat, the captain had told her to stay up on deck. "It's a lot better," he'd said. "The dizziness isn't so bad if you can see where you're going." She hesitated, and then Brett spoke again: "Will you go down below? If you're going to start throwing up, at least there's a head down there."

Melissa stood up, almost lost her balance as the boat pitched once more, and grabbed at one of the bars next to the hatch. She made her way down the steps into the cabin and sank down on the sofa, the queasiness in her stomach growing into a sharp pain.

Two minutes later she knew she was going to be sick. She got up, lurched toward the head in the bow, but lost her balance as the boat rolled to port.

Staggering, she dropped down to her knees, and then the seasickness. .h.i.t her with full force.

The vomit rose in her throat. She tried to fight against it, but it was too late. As she began gagging and choking, her mouth opened and a stream of bilious liquid spewed out onto the floor.

"Oh, Jesus," she heard someone groan a few feet away. She looked up, vomit dribbling off her chin, to see Jeff Barnstable staring at her with an expression of total disgust. Her heart sank. Of all the people who had to see her this way, why did it have to be Jeff? He'd never take her to the costume party now-never! He'd probably never even want to see see her again! And then, from behind Jeff, she heard Kent Fielding's angry voice. her again! And then, from behind Jeff, she heard Kent Fielding's angry voice.

"What the h.e.l.l did you have to do it down there for?" he demanded, then turned away. "Let's go back," she heard him telling Brett. "The little creep's puking her brains out, and she didn't even go into the head."

The nausea subsiding slightly, Melissa struggled to her feet and looked for something with which to clean up the mess on the floor. She found a roll of paper towels on the galley counter and pulled off a handful, then got down on her hands and knees once more. But the smell of her own vomit filled her nostrils, overwhelming her, and suddenly she was retching again.

This time the mess spilled down her s.h.i.+rt and onto the white pants she'd put on especially for the sail.

Sobbing with humiliation, she forced herself to keep working at the mess on the floor, doing her best to sop it up with the paper towels.

Half an hour later they were back at the dock.

Melissa stayed below as long as she dared, but at last she could wait no longer. Her legs weak, she made her way up the companionway and emerged from the hatch.

They were all standing on the dock, staring at her.

There was a long silence, finally broken by Kent Fielding. "Why the h.e.l.l did you come at all?" he asked. "If you were going to get sick, why didn't you just stay home? No one even wanted to ask you in the first place."

Melissa's eyes flooded with tears, but anger suddenly flared up inside her. She hadn't wanted to come-she'd even tried to get out of it. And did they really think she'd gotten sick on purpose? She climbed off the boat and started up the dock, but then whirled around.

"I hate you," she screamed at the six kids who were watching her. "I hate all of you, and I hope you all die!"

Then, her tears overwhelming her, she ran up the dock and began stumbling along the beach toward home. For a moment, just a moment, she wanted to turn back, to tell Jeff, at least, that she hadn't really meant what she'd just said. But she couldn't, for her humiliation was still scorching inside her.

If she had turned back, she might have seen the smile on Teri's face.

The smile that would have told her she'd done exactly what Teri had hoped she would.

CHAPTER 17.

Phyllis Holloway glanced at the clock on her husband's desk. It was a little after three, and she had a committee meeting at the club at half past, which meant she just had time to brush her hair and touch up her makeup. She glanced down at Cora's account book, her lips tightening as she regarded the housekeeper's nearly illegible scrawl. The least the old woman could do was make her entries in the book clear enough so a person could read them. It was bad enough that she had to spend half the day going over them once a week-the fact that she had to translate each and every entry from Cora's scribble into English made the job nearly intolerable.

And, of course, she got no help from anyone else. She couldn't even count how many times she'd talked to Charles about Cora's sloppy records, but his response was always the same: "Why bother with it at all? Cora's been doing the shopping for the family since before I was born. Father always said he trusted her more than he did his own lawyer."

"Did he?" Phyllis had replied archly the first time she'd talked to him about auditing Cora's expenses. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. I've always been amazed at the people who let their help steal them blind. When I was working at-" She had cut herself off abruptly, for even with Charles she did her best never to discuss her life before she'd married him. "It's the principle of the thing," she'd insisted. "If the staff knows you're not watching them, they'll take advantage. Not that they don't anyway-I hate to think how much of our food disappears into Cora's house every week."

Charles had merely shrugged. "Who cares? Even if she stole everything they eat-which she doesn't-it wouldn't be enough to get upset about. But if it makes you feel better, go ahead and ask her to keep an account book. Just don't ask me to go over it-I'd feel like I was asking my own mother to account for her expenses."

Phyllis had seen the resentment in the housekeeper's eyes when she'd first given her the ledger more than a decade ago and explained what it was for, but the woman had known better than to complain about it. Instead she dutifully filled it in every day, presenting it to Phyllis every Wednesday morning for the weekly audit.