What She Doesn't Know by Beverly Barton Page B

Sumarville in a few days.” Clarice hugged Jolie to her side. “Now that she’s home again, we can’t let her leave.”
    â€œI’ll tell you what—you go find Mr. Landers and I’ll talk to Jolie,” Yvonne said. “How will that be?”
    â€œYes, of course. What a good idea. You have such a persuasive way about you.” Clarice kissed Jolie’s cheek, then released her and shook her finger in Jolie’s face. “You listen to Yvonne. Do you hear me? You won’t disappoint us, will you, sweet child?”
    Jolie offered her aunt a weak half-smile. “I promise I’ll listen to Yvonne.”
    That statement seemed to be enough to pacify Clarice, who waltzed off into the throng of partying mourners in search of her adoring suitor.
    Yvonne turned to Jolie. “Would you like a breath of fresh air?”
    â€œWhat do you have in mind?”
    â€œI thought maybe we could escape to the back porch. Hopefully no one else has made it out that far, yet.”
    â€œAre we going to have a come-to-Jesus talk?” Jolie asked.
    Yvonne smiled. “So, you remember those little talks I used to give Theron and you.” She sighed. “Yes, I suppose that’s exactly what I have in mind for you today. Don’t you think it’s past time for one?”

    Georgette vacillated between teetering nervousness and pitiful sobbing. Max had tried his best to persuade her to go upstairs to her room an hour ago, but she had adamantly refused. His mother had been extremely proud to be Louis Royale’s wife and had taken advantage of every opportunity to prove to the world that she was worthy of the title, so it was only natural that she would want to show everyone that she was truly the grieving widow. He didn’t doubt for a second that his mother had loved Louis with great passion or that that passion often bordered on obsession. She had seemed to need Louis to survive the way she needed air to breathe.
    Max had loved Felicia, had wanted her desperately, and in the end had allowed her to treat him shamelessly, but he had no idea how it felt for another human being to be the beginning and the end of his universe. The intensity and depth of that kind of love—the kind his mother and Louis had shared—frightened him in a way that nothing else ever had.
    â€œLouis would have enjoyed this,” Georgette said. “He did so love a good party.”
    â€œIndeed he did,” Parry replied. “And he was no cheapskate when it came to paying for shindigs like this one. I always admired the way he enjoyed his money.”
    â€œMy husband was a very generous man.” She grasped Max’s arm. “I’m feeling a bit faint. Perhaps I should sit down.”
    â€œCertainly, Mother.”
    Max separated a bevy of chattering women to clear a path to the Queen Anne chair in the corner of the front parlor. He helped his mother sit, then knelt before her.
    â€œAre you sure you don’t want to go upstairs for just a little while?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œThen how about something to drink? I’ll find Yvonne and get her to make you a cup of mint tea.”
    â€œYes, Max, that would be nice. A cup of tea. And be sure she adds three teaspoons of sugar. I like my mint tea very sweet.”
    â€œShe never forgets,” he said. “Coffee black. Tea very sweet.”
    Max glanced around, searching for Mallory. Having seen her only once since their return home, he suspected she was hiding away in her room. He needed to check on her. She had been unusually quiet and emotionally remote since Louis’s death. His little sister was probably wondering, as was their mother, just how they could go on without Louis. Mallory had been his spoiled darling. After seeing to his mother’s tea, he’d go upstairs in search of his sister and try to persuade her to come downstairs and keep their mother company.
    Halfway to the kitchen, he