The Shadows of Foxworth Page 10

  “I don’t think anyone’s been in here since the house was first built,” I said.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Lots of room.”

  “It’s cold and old and smells a little like seaweed,” I muttered. I walked over to the bed. “There are moth holes in this blanket.”

  “I’ll survive. I’m getting hungry. Did they say what we’re eating?”

  “MARLENA!” we heard Aunt Effie scream.

  “Now what did I do?”

  I hurried into the hallway.

  “What are you doing in there?”

  “Just looking at Yvon’s room.”

  “I don’t know what you’re used to in France, but young men and women, especially young women, don’t go into each other’s bedrooms unattended.” Yvon had stepped out beside me. “He’s only wearing a bathrobe.”

  “Yvon is my brother,” I said. “We’ve taken baths together.”

  “I don’t want to hear any of that!” she cried, putting her hands over her ears for a moment. “Things will change or… or else,” she added. “You, boy, get dressed. Mr. Simon is waiting for you in the sitting room. He will explain tomorrow’s schedule for you and some of your new duties. Be down there in five minutes.”

  “Where? I don’t know the house yet,” Yvon said.

  “See if you can find it on your own. That will tell me if you are so dull I’d be pursuing failure to place any faith in you. And you,” she said to me, “wait in your room. Minnie and Emma will fetch you to walk down to dinner with Pauline.”

  “Can’t I go down now and look at the house?”

  “Just do as I ask. The house is not a museum. You will get to know all about it in good time. I will be taking you to buy some clothes after breakfast tomorrow. Do not tell Pauline. I do not want her going along. She will distract us and waste our time.”

  “From what I saw, she looks like she could use some new clothes.”

  “When you earn your own income, you can buy her whatever you like. Right now, it would be like opening the window and tossing out money.” She looked at Yvon. “Why are you still standing there?”

  He glanced at me and went into his room. I watched her go down the stairway and then went into my room and plopped into the rocker. I felt like I should growl. Surely, Yvon was not going to want us to stay here much longer. Now that we were in America, we could find our own way. I dreamed of us getting jobs and having our own apartment. It pained me to think so negatively of Papa’s family, but I felt confident I knew why he wasn’t heartbroken to leave. Perhaps he felt sorry for Aunt Pauline, but most likely there wasn’t anything he could do for her. He certainly couldn’t take her with him. It wasn’t difficult to imagine how terrible her early life was under Aunt Effie’s control.

  Now I was curious about his father and mother. When exactly had they turned over Aunt Pauline’s daily needs to Aunt Effie? What was their mother like? How sick was she? From what she had already described of their lives, I was confident Aunt Effie took after their father.

  What kind of a relationship did Papa have with his mother? All we really knew was that she didn’t discourage his art. Was part of the reason he left because she had passed? Did he hate his father that much? Now that we were here, I could understand why he didn’t want to talk about any of them, especially Aunt Effie. How much happier was our family in France, far poorer but so much happier. Somehow, some way, I was determined to get Aunt Effie to understand and believe that. It would either drive her mad or soften her hard shell of a personality and she would treat everyone better once she stopped thinking ill of Papa and Mama. Was I still a child to believe it was possible?

  Emma or Minnie came to my door a while later. How long would it take for me to know the difference? Neither had a mole or a birthmark different from the other.

  “It’s time to go down to dinner,” she announced. “Pauline and Minnie are waiting at the top of the stairs. It’s time for us to enter the dining room and y’all to take your seats.”

  She was talking about it as if this was going to be some royal event. I half-expected music to accompany us. Pauline, looking more put together, her hair brushed and pinned back, smiled as I approached.

  “Where’s my brother?” I asked.

  “Mr. Simon and him is already seated,” Minnie said.

  “Well, why wouldn’t you have told me? I was ready.”

  “Miss Effie wanted it that way,” Emma said.

  “Does she tell everyone when to breathe?”

  I turned to Aunt Pauline, who obviously either didn’t understand or care about what I had been saying.

  “We’re all so pretty, aren’t we?”

  “Yes,” I said. I smiled gleefully at the twins, who stared like two mannequins.

  “Effie always said that. She always said, ‘You’re the pretty one, Pauline.’ ”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t a compliment,” I muttered.

  “Are you hungry?” Pauline asked. “I’m hungry. It’s all right to be hungry.”

  “If you have food, it is,” I said dryly.

  Now the twins gaped at me with the same surprise. It was as if they had never heard of anyone not having food.

  We began our descent, Minnie walking ahead of Aunt Pauline and Emma behind her and between us. Halfway down, she turned to me and said, “She’s fallen down these stairs. Once she broke her ankle.”

  “And was laid up for weeks,” Minnie said, not turning around. It was as if they had rehearsed what they would tell me.

  They paraded us to the dining room, where, as I was told, Yvon was already seated next to an elderly man with thinning gray and light-brown hair. He wore a low-cut black waistcoat with a white shirt that had folded-over tips at the collar with a black bow tie. The right corner of his mouth drooped a bit. He looked at me, glanced at Aunt Effie, who sat at the head of the table, and then nodded.

  “You’re absolutely right, Effie. I do see a little of your mother,” he said, staring at me.

  “A little,” Aunt Effie said. “Pauline, take your seat. Minnie, pull out her chair.”

  They moved Aunt Pauline quickly to a chair across from Yvon.

  “Marlena, this is Mr. Broderick Simon, my personal assistant. You will get to know him better when you begin to work at the offices.”

  “Hello,” I said, and looked at Yvon to get a hint of how he felt about him. He looked indifferent.

  “You’ll sit next to Mr. Simon,” she said, and nodded at the chair.

  Emma pulled it out for me, which surprised me. I sat and looked at Mr. Simon. He had gray eyes and a thin nose that made his eyes and his mouth look larger. Along the edge of his jaw and up the sides to his ears was a well-trimmed beard, the color of which was almost totally gray. He still studied me a moment before nodding and smiling. Some of his teeth looked black, almost as if they had died in his mouth.

  “It’s too soon, I’m sure, but how do you like America?” he asked.

  “It’s too soon,” I replied, and his eyes widened.

  He looked at Aunt Effie.

  “I fear they are both a little spoiled,” she said.

  “Perhaps a little too French,” he replied, and for the first time since we met her, Aunt Effie actually laughed.

  I saw the look of shock and surprise on Aunt Pauline’s face. Aunt Effie turned to the twins.

  “Serve our dinner,” she said. “Don’t just stand there gaping at everyone.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Emma said.

  “We will, ma’am,” Minnie said, and they walked quickly through a door that I imagined led into the kitchen. I saw how Pauline was still thinking about what had been said. Her forehead crinkled with her confusion. I almost laughed at the intense way she was staring at Aunt Effie, who realized it, rolled her eyes, and looked at her.

  “What now, Pauline?”

  “You just said ‘French,’ but you said we can’t say French in this house, Effie. You told us.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at Pauline’s logic. I turned to Aunt Effie.

  The softness that came to her face when she laughed flew off.

  “How many times have I told you not to speak at dinner unless I ask you to speak, Pauline? How many times?”

  “I don’t know. Two hundred?”

  Mr. Simon laughed.

  “She’s not wrong,” Aunt Effie said, turning to me mainly. “I said I don’t want French spoken.” She looked at Aunt Pauline again. “But the word ‘French’ is all right, Pauline. So is the word ‘France.’ It’s a country.” She looked at Yvon and then at me. “Be sure you two obey that rule. Do you understand?”

  I couldn’t help it. It was bubbling on the edges of my lips.

  “Mais oui, tante Effie,” I said.

  Yvon smiled in amazement.

  Mr. Simon’s jaw dropped.

  Pauline bit down so hard on her lower lip I thought she would bleed.

  Aunt Effie’s face turned ruby first, and then all the color drained, and it was nearly snow-white. Her lips trembled. She slammed her right palm down on the table so hard that the glasses and dishes bounced.

  “How insolent!” she muttered. “You are your father’s daughter. He was just this way with our father.”

  I almost smiled in the face of her rage. Any comparison of me to Papa was most welcome, no matter what it was.

  “Perhaps to help you remember, you should now go to your room without any dinner,” she said. “Go on up to your room.”

  “If she goes, I go,” Yvon quickly said. “French is our mother language. We can’t just throw it off in a day, Aunt Effie, and besides, we don’t understand why it’s to be so forbidden. If we’re speaking ill of someone in our presence, anyone can tell by the look on our faces, besides the words. We are not afraid to say what we mean; we
’ve never been.”

  “The boy has a good point, Effie,” Mr. Simon said softly. He, too, tiptoed around our aunt.

  She stared at me while the twins began bringing out our food. When they were finished putting a platter in front of everyone, she leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her hands clasped. The anger swirled in her eyes and then faded with her cold smile.

  “As long as what you did is out of habit and not insolence. I know the French have a more liberal attitude when it comes to children.”

  “We’ve always been taught to respect our elders,” I said.

  “Yes, maybe, but your father didn’t, and I can’t imagine the example he would have set.”

  She puttered around a little at her plate and glass of wine.

  “I suggest we all start eating before it gets cold.”

  Yvon nodded at me. For now, at least, our first major crisis was over.

  “I’d like to wear earrings again,” Aunt Pauline suddenly said.

  Aunt Effie looked at the ceiling and then at her.

  “You’ve lost one of every pair I’ve ever given you, Pauline.”

  “I can wear different ones on each ear, can’t I?” She looked to me.

  “Don’t ask her. We’re not talking about earrings now, Pauline. Just sit quietly and eat your potatoes.”

  “But I don’t like potatoes.”

  “We’ve been through this for decades, Pauline. You eat what I tell you to eat. Who knows better? Well?”

  Aunt Pauline looked down. “You do, Effie.”

  “Good. Mr. Simon will now explain more about our business. You two are here to be part of this family now, and that means our business.”

  “So, as I tried to explain to Yvon earlier,” Mr. Simon began, “there are really four types of real estate companies, goals, and business entities.

  “There is residential real estate, commercial real estate, industrial real estate, and land. Your grandfather began with residential, moved to commercial and a little of industrial before he passed away. We are more involved now with industrial, manufacturing buildings and warehouses, but we still manage a number of commercial buildings as well.”

  “Sounds like a lot,” Yvon said.

  He turned to him. “There is, as I started to explain, much to learn.”

  Yvon nodded.

  “Explain what it means to bid,” Aunt Effie said.

  “When something becomes available, we evaluate its value to us and offer a price, sometimes sealed so no one knows what we’ve offered until the auctioneers or current owners open all the bids and the highest one wins the property. That’s why it’s very important to learn how to value a property, square feet, fixtures, location, and access to roads. You’ll see. I hope it will be interesting to you.”

  “Of course it will be interesting to him,” Aunt Effie said, “especially when he hears the sums involved. One of our commercial properties provides the company ten thousand dollars a month.”

  “A month?” Yvon asked.

  She smiled.

  “We have five such properties,” Mr. Simon said. “A great deal of our work has to do with banks. We have relationships with the two biggest in the state, actually.”

  “Your grandfather on your mother’s side ran a bank,” Aunt Effie said. “Did she ever tell you about that, about him?”

  “Not much,” Yvon said before I could respond. She had told me.

  “That bank was acquired by a much bigger enterprise,” Mr. Simon said. “It was close to failure.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t inherit your maternal grandfather’s poor business sense,” Aunt Effie said. Yvon’s face reddened. “I’m not surprised she avoided talking about him.”

  Yvon and I exchanged looks. I had never really described Mama’s feelings about her father and mother, what she had revealed to me that night.

  “He’s a smart young man. I’m sure he’ll do well, Effie.”

  She grunted and then paused again to look at Yvon when she spoke.

  “Now tell them who our biggest competitor is these days,” she said.

  “Garland Foxworth,” he said, “and his young son, Malcolm, especially in the industrial sector.”

  Neither Yvon nor I said anything.

  “Does that name mean anything to either of you?” Aunt Effie asked. Her eyes seemed to narrow in anticipation of our answers.

  I shook my head.

  “Why would it?” Yvon said. “We’ve not been here twenty-four hours. We don’t know any big American businessmen.”

  “Neither of your parents ever mentioned the name?”

  “No,” Yvon said quickly.

  She looked at me.

  “No,” I said.

  “Neither your father nor your mother?” she pursued.

  “Neither mentioned the name, no,” Yvon said. He looked down quickly. I thought his reaction was strange. It seemed like he wanted to get the questions over with. Why would the name Foxworth matter to us?

  Aunt Effie tapped the table with the tips of her fingers and looked at Mr. Simon.

  “Well, it will mean something to you,” she predicted. I thought she was looking more at Yvon. “A good businessman knows as much about his competitors as he does about himself.”

  “Well said, Effie,” Mr. Simon commented. “Your aunt is quite well known for her business acumen. You have as much to learn from her as you do from me,” he told Yvon.

  He didn’t say anything. Then he looked at me for a moment before gazing down at his food again.

  “Can I talk now, Effie?” Aunt Pauline asked.

  “What is it, Pauline?” she replied, her eyelids fluttering with annoyance.

  “I think I should have a new dress and new shoes.”

  “Why?”

  “Aren’t we going to have a party?”

  “What? Why would we have a party, Pauline?”

  Pauline smiled as if she knew something Aunt Effie didn’t know.

  “Our nephew and our niece have come to live with us.”

  “I’m surprised you remember who they are.”

  “Marlena told me, didn’t you, Marlena?”

  I looked up quickly at Aunt Effie. Why that would make me feel guilty and afraid, I didn’t know, but it did.

  “We’ll see if you remember tomorrow,” Aunt Effie said. She seemed to enjoy mocking her sister.

  “I will. And do you know why?” Aunt Pauline said.

  “No, Pauline, pray tell us why.”

  “It’s like Beau’s come home,” she said.

  6

  After dinner, Aunt Effie told the twins to take Pauline to her room before they did any of their other chores. I wondered why it would take the two of them to escort Pauline to her room, until I saw how Pauline pouted and, like a little girl, refused to move. Still, I wondered if one twin always needed the other beside her for every task Aunt Effie assigned. Did they go to the bathroom together?

  “I can take Aunt Pauline up to her room,” I said.

  “NO,” Aunt Effie said, so firmly both Yvon and I stepped back as if she had belched smoke. “You are incapable of knowing or doing what is required. Don’t assume because you’ve traveled with your aunt for days that you have any idea what her needs are. Concern yourself with your own right now. Go on up, Pauline.”

  “I don’t want to go to bed yet. I don’t wanna!” Pauline cried. Each twin took an arm. Before she could resist, Aunt Effie stepped toward her. She was only a few inches taller, but because of the way she held herself, she looked like she towered over her sister, who stopped resisting immediately and gagged on her tears, her shoulders jerking up and down.

  “You know that you have to go to bed when I tell you, Pauline,” Aunt Effie said in a softly controlled voice. She smiled with a syrupy sweet grin. “You know when you don’t get your proper rest, you mope about and don’t have any fun. I always think of what’s best for you, don’t I?”

  “But… I wanna have fun now, too.”

  “No one’s having any fun now, Pauline. We are all preparing ourselves for a good night’s rest.” Her syrupy smile flew off her face. “I happen to be tired, too. Don’t just think of yourself. Have you forgotten how far we have traveled to fetch these two, what an ordeal it’s been?”

  “I don’t care,” Aunt Pauline said. “I don’t care about deals.”

  “Ordeals, not deals. Oh, for God’s sake. I swear you’ll drive me into an early grave. Would you like that? Would you? Then where would you be? Well?”