when she died, I remember sitting on her lap while she read books to me.
At eight thirty the driver called to announce that he was downstairs.
“I’ll be another half hour,” she told him. She had calculated that that would bring her to the house about 9:20. Again she reassured herself that all the others would be gathered there.
Then Betsy Bonner Powell’s daughter will make her entrance.
21
L aurie had known that this breakfast would be charged with tension, but had underestimated how electric the atmosphere in the room would become.
It hadn’t taken a minute to know that Muriel Craig was a perpetual liar when she rattled on about how dear a friend Betsy Powell had been to her.
Everyone knew that at one time Muriel had been linked to Robert Powell, and that she had issued a statement after his sudden marriage to Betsy claiming that he was only one of three men she was dating.
What is she thinking when she looks around this house and knows it might have been hers? Laurie wondered. The dining room had a portrait of an aristocratic man with a disdainful expression, whom Jane had explained was Mr. Powell’s ancestor, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, of course.
I’ll check that one out, Laurie thought. She’d always heard Powell was self-made. That said, the dining room was beautiful, with its red walls and Persian carpet and splendid view of the back gardens. She watched as the film equipment was unloaded for the outdoor scene that would be one of the first shots of the program. They had already filmed the mansion from the front. Now Alex Buckley would begin his narrative as those clips were unrolling.
Jane had laid the juice, coffee, rolls, sweet buns, and fruit on the top of the antique sideboard.
The handsome table had been set for ten. The sterling flatware had the mellow glow of antique pieces, as did all the serving platters.
Powell is certainly making sure that this little breakfast get-together is a not-too-subtle reminder of who and what he is, Laurie thought as in quick succession George Curtis, Alison Schaefer and her husband, Rod, and Alex Buckley arrived. They were followed soon after by Regina Callari.
She watched with keen interest as the three friends, who had not seen one another in twenty years, clasped hands and then exchanged spontaneous hugs.
“My God, it’s been so long . . . You haven’t changed a bit . . . I’ve missed you guys . . .” were the seemingly genuine expressions from the three graduates, while Muriel Craig, George Curtis, Rod Kimball, and Alex Buckley held themselves back from the reunion.
Promptly at nine o’clock Robert Powell entered the dining room. “Jane has told me that Claire is not here yet,” he said. “In that way she is exactly like my dear Betsy.”
Watching him closely, Laurie was sure that beneath the façade of being amused by Claire’s absence, he was furious. He must have wanted to make an entrance with all four of the graduates here, she thought.
She watched as, one by one, Powell embraced each guest with an effusive welcome. He greeted George Curtis with a “Thanks so much for coming, George. We’d both be happier on the golf course.” He turned to Rod with a warm “We never did meet, did we?” Finally he approached Muriel Craig.
“I saved you for last,” he said tenderly as he put his arms around her and kissed her. “You’re as gorgeous as ever. Have you been in a time capsule these twenty years?”
A radiant Muriel returned his embrace, then, as Laurie watchedclosely, shot a look at her daughter, who shook her head and turned away.
“I see you all have coffee,” Rob said. “But you’ve got to at least sample the muffins Jane has baked for you. I can promise they’re delicious. Then please sit down wherever you want, except that Muriel will sit next to me.”
My God, he’s laying it on, Laurie thought. The next thing, he’ll be proposing to her on bended knee. She was surprised he was being so obvious.
At eight thirty the driver called to announce that he was downstairs.
“I’ll be another half hour,” she told him. She had calculated that that would bring her to the house about 9:20. Again she reassured herself that all the others would be gathered there.
Then Betsy Bonner Powell’s daughter will make her entrance.
21
L aurie had known that this breakfast would be charged with tension, but had underestimated how electric the atmosphere in the room would become.
It hadn’t taken a minute to know that Muriel Craig was a perpetual liar when she rattled on about how dear a friend Betsy Powell had been to her.
Everyone knew that at one time Muriel had been linked to Robert Powell, and that she had issued a statement after his sudden marriage to Betsy claiming that he was only one of three men she was dating.
What is she thinking when she looks around this house and knows it might have been hers? Laurie wondered. The dining room had a portrait of an aristocratic man with a disdainful expression, whom Jane had explained was Mr. Powell’s ancestor, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, of course.
I’ll check that one out, Laurie thought. She’d always heard Powell was self-made. That said, the dining room was beautiful, with its red walls and Persian carpet and splendid view of the back gardens. She watched as the film equipment was unloaded for the outdoor scene that would be one of the first shots of the program. They had already filmed the mansion from the front. Now Alex Buckley would begin his narrative as those clips were unrolling.
Jane had laid the juice, coffee, rolls, sweet buns, and fruit on the top of the antique sideboard.
The handsome table had been set for ten. The sterling flatware had the mellow glow of antique pieces, as did all the serving platters.
Powell is certainly making sure that this little breakfast get-together is a not-too-subtle reminder of who and what he is, Laurie thought as in quick succession George Curtis, Alison Schaefer and her husband, Rod, and Alex Buckley arrived. They were followed soon after by Regina Callari.
She watched with keen interest as the three friends, who had not seen one another in twenty years, clasped hands and then exchanged spontaneous hugs.
“My God, it’s been so long . . . You haven’t changed a bit . . . I’ve missed you guys . . .” were the seemingly genuine expressions from the three graduates, while Muriel Craig, George Curtis, Rod Kimball, and Alex Buckley held themselves back from the reunion.
Promptly at nine o’clock Robert Powell entered the dining room. “Jane has told me that Claire is not here yet,” he said. “In that way she is exactly like my dear Betsy.”
Watching him closely, Laurie was sure that beneath the façade of being amused by Claire’s absence, he was furious. He must have wanted to make an entrance with all four of the graduates here, she thought.
She watched as, one by one, Powell embraced each guest with an effusive welcome. He greeted George Curtis with a “Thanks so much for coming, George. We’d both be happier on the golf course.” He turned to Rod with a warm “We never did meet, did we?” Finally he approached Muriel Craig.
“I saved you for last,” he said tenderly as he put his arms around her and kissed her. “You’re as gorgeous as ever. Have you been in a time capsule these twenty years?”
A radiant Muriel returned his embrace, then, as Laurie watchedclosely, shot a look at her daughter, who shook her head and turned away.
“I see you all have coffee,” Rob said. “But you’ve got to at least sample the muffins Jane has baked for you. I can promise they’re delicious. Then please sit down wherever you want, except that Muriel will sit next to me.”
My God, he’s laying it on, Laurie thought. The next thing, he’ll be proposing to her on bended knee. She was surprised he was being so obvious.
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