Family Storms by V.C. Andrews Page B

entertainment center, and then a hallway that branched off to the right. She said that was where the indoor pool was located.
    Right off the kitchen was what she called their informal dining room. No room in this house was small to me, but she called it one of their smaller rooms. It had a beautiful dark hardwood table with twelve cushioned hardwood chairs. The walls were paneled in a lighter wood, and a large window looked toward the rear of the property.
    â€œIs that a lake?” I asked, looking out.
    â€œDonald’s lake, yes. It’s man-made. He says he’s going tostock it with fish. What fun is that, right? It would be like shooting fish in a barrel, but once Donald sees something someone else has, he wants it, too. There are two rowboats. That’s fun, at least.”
    She pulled a chair away next to the chair at the end of the table and fit me into that place. Two dinner settings, glasses, and silverware were already there. Almost as soon as Mrs. March took her seat, Mrs. Duval came through the door that led from the kitchen. She carried a bowl of rolls and a jug of water.
    â€œGood evening, Mrs. Duval,” Mrs. March said, sounding very formal all of a sudden.
    â€œGood evening, Mrs. March.”
    â€œDoesn’t our little girl look pretty tonight?”
    Mrs. Duval paused after she poured Mrs. March’s glass of water and looked at me as if I had just arrived. I caught the slight tic in her eyes, the little moment of surprise. She glanced at Mrs. March and then forced a smile and said,
“Sí, muy bonita.”
    Mrs. March looked satisfied. She leaned toward me as Mrs. Duval returned to the kitchen. “That means ‘very pretty’ in Spanish,” she whispered. “Do you know any Spanish?”
    â€œNot really,” I said. “I mean, I know some words.”
    â€œAlena spoke fluent Spanish, because Mrs. Duval had been her nanny since birth. I’m sure you’ll learn quite a bit just being around her. It’s the best way to learn a language, better than in a classroom. That’s what Donald says.”
    â€œI know some Chinese words because of my mother,” I told her.
    She didn’t look that excited about it. “That’s nice. Educating yourself as much as possible is important. I bet you are a good reader, too, right?”
    Mrs. Duval brought in our salads and set them down without looking at me or speaking.
    â€œI haven’t read that much for a while,” I said
    â€œOf course. I understand. But you’re going to see that Alena had a wonderful library in her sitting room. Unless you’ve already explored those shelves.”
    â€œNo, I haven’t yet.”
    â€œGetting Kiera to read anything is like trying to feed her cod-liver oil. She has barely passing grades. Donald’s at his wit’s end with that, and it isn’t because we haven’t paid for tutors. She never liked any, but I’m sure you’re going to like Mrs. Kepler. Doesn’t this salad look good? You like figs in your salad? We all like that. Alena loved it.”
    â€œI never had it before,” I said, but I nodded. It did taste good.
    That pleased her, and she became even more talkative, telling me about her own youth, her high school years, and her years at a private college she called “more of a charm school than a real educational institution. But I wasn’t meant to have any sort of career,” she added. “I was born to be who I am.” She laughed. “That’s what Donald says.”
    Everything was what Donald said, I thought. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was really like and what he would think of me.
    â€œIs he coming home tomorrow?” I asked.
    â€œNo. He’ll be away the rest of the week, but that’s allright. We’ll have plenty of company, with your tutor coming tomorrow, your doctor checkup, lots to do. No worries,” she said. I was waiting for her to add,