Enchanted Ivy

Enchanted Ivy

Sarah Beth Durst

FOR OLD NASSAU

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Yes, I went to Princeton. I went because of the trees. Junior year of high school, I walked onto campus, saw the arch of elm trees, saw the massive oaks, and I was sold. Perhaps not the best way to choose a college, but that's the way it happened. Anyway, that moment changed my life and inspired this book. So thank you to the Princeton trees, the dorms, the classes, the professors, and the tulips in Prospect Gardens. Thank you to my roommates and my friends at Forbes, Quad, Triangle, and Theatre Intime. And thank you to the Housing Department, who assigned me to a room next door to my future husband. (We meant to send you flowers on our wedding day--sorry we forgot!)

Special thanks to my amazing agent and fellow Princetonian, Andrea Somberg, and my incredible editor, Karen Wojtyla, as well as Emily Fabre, Paul Crichton, Justin Chanda, Anne Zafian, Elke Villa, Lucille Rettino, Catharine Sotzing, and all the other wonderful people at Simon & Schuster who made this book a reality. You guys are all dream makers.

Many thanks and much love to my family, who inspire me on a daily basis, to my husband, who is the heart of everything I am and do, and to my children, whom I love unconditionally and always will, no matter where they go to college--unless, of course, it's Yale.

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Although Yale has always favored

The violet's dark blue,

And the many sons of Harvard

To the crimson rose are true,

We will own the lilies slender,

Nor honor shall they lack,

While the Tiger stands defender

Of the Orange and the Black.

x

--From "The Orange and the Black," Princeton University fight song; lyrics by Clarence Mitchell, 1889

1

CHAPTER One

"Almost there," Grandpa said.

Pressing her nose against the car window, Lily frowned at the strip malls, gas stations, and industrial parks as they rolled by. "Really?" she said. She'd expected to see something a bit more picturesque than Wal-Marts and Home Depots en route to her dream school--at least a stately forest or a field with a few photogenic cows. And she should hear trumpets playing, plus a massive choir announcing in verse the approach of her destiny.

Maybe she'd built up this moment a bit too much.

"Just a few more miles and then I will don my illustrious blazer," Grandpa said.

Grandpa's orange and black striped Princeton University Reunions jacket hung from the back of the driver's seat. Wondering why he'd mentioned it, she met Grandpa's eyes in the rearview mirror. He shifted his eyes toward Lily's mother,

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who sat slumped in the passenger seat in front of Lily.
Oh, of course
, she thought. If they were almost there, then it was time to cheer up Mom. "You know it looks like a psychedelic zebra's pelt, right?" Lily said.

"You'll see worse," Grandpa promised.

"I doubt the skinless zebra would agree with that," Lily said.

Grandpa nodded solemnly. "The Class of 1969 wears a vest and headband covered in orange and black yin-yang polka dots."

Lily faked a shudder. "Oh, the horror!"

In front of her, Mom laughed. Her wild, tangled hair (today, dyed a beautiful soft green) shook like willow leaves in the wind. It was the first time since leaving Philadelphia that Mom quit looking half-wilted and smiled. Mom hated car rides. She felt caged, she said, inside all the steel and plastic and glass. If it wasn't for worries about how it would react with her usual medication, Mom would have taken a Valium for the drive.

Normally, Mom avoided car rides altogether, but this wasn't a normal weekend. It was Princeton Reunions weekend. Reunions weekend! Lily couldn't believe Grandpa had offered to take them. He always attended, even in off years like his forty-ninth reunion. It was his "thing," his once-a-year break from mothering both Lily and Mom. But this year, he'd said that Lily should see her future alma mater.

Not that she'd even applied yet. She was a junior, three

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weeks away from final exams, but Grandpa claimed this place was her destiny. No pressure, though. Yeah, right.

Grandpa pointed to an intersection. "Next left," he said.

Lily's heart thumped faster. She shouldn't be this excited, she knew. It wasn't as if she even had an application interview. At best, she'd take a campus tour and then spend the weekend with a bunch of seventy-year-olds who were pretending to be fifty years younger. But she found herself craning her neck for her first glimpse.

As they turned onto Washington Road, the industrial parks, motels, and malls of central New Jersey fell behind them, and all Lily saw was green, green, and more green. Her breath caught in her throat. Now this was more like it! Elm trees lined the road to Princeton University. Their branches arched over the car in a grand canopy of translucent green that stretched for half a mile. Leaves swayed lightly in the wind, and Lily wanted to reach her arms up and catch the wind in her hands. Her fingers bumped the roof of the car. Self-consciously lowering her hands, she contented herself with staring out the window. Ahead, she saw a stone bridge over a lake and, beyond it, a sprawling boathouse. Crew boats lay crisscrossed on an asphalt shore. It looked like a photograph from a college brochure, and Lily felt light-headed as she drank in the view. It was perfect!

Across the bridge, Grandpa stopped at a traffic light. "We're here," he announced.

"Home," Mom said happily.

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Lily closed her eyes as her perfect moment shattered.

"No, Rose," Grandpa said in a calm and patient voice. "This is Princeton University, not our home. We're here for my Fiftieth Reunion. Do you remember?" Opening her eyes, Lily studied Mom and wondered if she'd remember or fake it.

Mom frowned for an instant and then said, "Of course. Yes, yes. I'm sorry." Her chiffon sleeve fluttered as she waved her hand at the window and said, "It's very pretty here."

"I have always thought so," Grandpa replied gravely. "Did you take your medicine today?"

Lily answered for her: "She did. But I have another here...." Unzipping Mom's purse, she drew out a single-dose medicine vial.

"I'm fine. Fine," Mom said, false cheer in her voice. "Just a little hiccup." Mom had nicknamed them that: brain hiccups. A harmless name, as if that would make everything okay. "You can put that away."

Lily's fingers curled around the medicine vial. Mom had been happy for ... what? Five minutes? Three? Lily slid the vial into her pocket, easily accessible if Mom needed it, and then she forced herself to look out the window again.

Grandpa turned right at a library with a roof like metal wings and drove past an observatory and a concrete stadium flanked by metal tigers, Princeton's mascot. At a PRIVATE PARKING sign, he turned left into a gravel lot and parked.

"Vineyard Club," Grandpa said. He pointed at a tree-choked hill.

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Leaning forward, Lily saw hints of brick gables and peaked windows through the screen of trees, and her breath caught in her throat. Vineyard Club was the most exclusive and prestigious of all Princeton eating clubs. Grandpa had been a member.

Following her grandfather's lead, Lily stepped out of the car. She inhaled the smell of Princeton: the earthy scent of pine and the sweet perfume of tulip trees, undercut with the sour stench of stale beer. It smelled exactly like it should. She smiled.

"Oh, freedom!" Mom cried as she jumped out of the car. She spun in a circle with her arms stretched in a V over her head. Her sleeves flapped around her. "I hear the world singing!"

Grandpa chuckled. "No more cars until Sunday," he promised, coming around to the trunk. He lifted out their suitcase. Lily claimed the duffel bag. Without prompting, Mom fetched Grandpa's hideous jacket and her purse from the backseat. Lily and Grandpa both watched her.

Mom's smile slipped. "I'm fine. I won't ruin your weekend."

"This way," Grandpa said, pointing toward a path through the trees. "We're expected."

Grandpa hadn't said they were meeting anyone. Swinging the duffel bag over her shoulder, Lily hurried to follow Grandpa across the parking lot. "Expected by who?" Lily asked.

"By whom," Grandpa corrected. He flashed her an enormous grin. "I have a surprise for you."

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The last surprise from Grandpa had involved escargot for dinner. (Lily had tried one; Mom had flat-out refused.) Surprise before last was a six-foot saguaro cactus that Grandpa had ordered for the shop. (Mom had loved it; Lily had found a desiccated scorpion impaled on a thorn.) For all his aura of being a respectable business owner, Grandpa tended to plan bizarre surprises. Now he had a twinkle in his eye as though he thought he was Santa Claus. "No snails this time," Lily said.

"No snails," Grandpa said. "Just a few people I'd like you to meet."

"Really?" She'd never met any of Grandpa's college friends.

The path through the trees opened onto a slope of perfectly manicured lawn, complete with a volleyball net and Adirondack lawn chairs. As Grandpa strode up the hill, Lily tried to picture him as a college student--subtract the salt-and-pepper beard, darken the white hair to black, erase the tanned wrinkles ... She wondered if he'd learned his I-own-the-world-not-just-a-flower-shop walk here. She imagined herself striding across the lawns as if she belonged.

Coming up behind her, Mom hooked her arm through Lily's. "I wonder what secret life your grandfather has been hiding from us. I'm thinking a dozen girlfriends."

Lily grinned. "At least a dozen." Her grandpa was a handsome man, after all. "First, we'll meet Buffy, Muffy, and Fluffy, triplet bottle-blonde octogenarians who live on a yacht.

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And then will come Margaret, the divorcée with the hard shell hiding a soft, vulnerable heart. And of course Penny, the rich widow who loves sequins and feather boas ..." As they climbed the stone steps to Vineyard Club, Lily trailed off. Here was her first close-up look at Grandpa's infamous club.

Mom didn't notice that Lily's attention had shifted. "Don't forget Clarisse," she said, "the brainy brunette. And Martha, ex-third wife of his third-best friend ..."

Gazing up at the ivy-covered brick, Lily breathed, "I think I'm in love."

It was a mansion. No other word for it. Vineyard Club was a Victorian-style mansion with peaks and gables of aged brick, all trimmed with ivy. All the windows had wrought-iron frames, and most were stained glass. She craned her neck to try to see the pictures in the stained glass, but all she could see from this angle were colors. Sapphire- and ruby-and emerald-colored bits of glass flashed like jewels in the sunlight. "Can I move here now?" Lily asked. "Seriously, I want to live here."

Like a formal butler, Grandpa swung the door open and gestured inside. Lily peeked in and saw mahogany: walls, floor, tables, chairs, bar and bar stools, all beautiful dark wood. It was ... ugh! She recoiled as the stench of stale beer rolled out and over her like a tsunami wave. "Before I move," she said, "we fumigate it."

Grandpa inhaled deeply. "Smells like senior year."

Was that the year his scent glands died?
Retreating to gulp
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in fresh air, Lily turned back toward the brilliant green lawn sloping down behind them ...

... and saw the boy.

He stood underneath a pine tree by the parking lot. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt, and he had orange and black tiger-striped hair. Clearly, judging by his school-spirit hair, he was a Princeton boy--the first one she'd ever seen. She felt like a bird-watcher who had glimpsed an elusive and rare specimen.

Oddly, he seemed to be staring back at her.

She was sure it was her imagination. He had to be admiring the architecture. Or waiting for a girlfriend. Guys like that had girlfriends. They didn't notice rumpled-from-a-long-drive high school juniors who were hanging out with their relatives. Lily opened her mouth to ask Mom if she thought the boy was looking at her, but then she stopped. Mom might like the hair. Lily didn't want to waste Reunions weekend on a search for orange and black hair dye.

Lily followed Mom and Grandpa inside and instantly forgot about the tiger-haired boy. She was inside Vineyard Club! She stared around her, feeling as if she needed to memorize every detail.

The taproom of Vineyard Club felt old but more in a finely-aged-wine sort of way than in a plumbing-never-works-right kind of way. Black-and-white photos of men in suits and ties (and women in the newer photos) adorned

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the wood-paneled walls. She studied the nearest photo, imagining herself in the group of students.

Don't get carried away,
she told herself. She had no idea if she'd be accepted to Princeton, much less the über-exclusive Vineyard Club. What if they saw that B from ninth-grade history? What if she hadn't done enough extracurriculars? She'd thought she had an okay list: student council secretary (but never president), twice chorus for the school play (never the lead), part-time employee at Grandpa's flower shop (not optional), one year of tap dance (big mistake), yellow belt in tae kwon do (Grandpa's idea after the tap-dance fiasco), catcher for junior varsity softball. ... Maybe she should have done more. She should have pushed to fit in one more AP class this year. Or joined the debate team. Or discovered the cure for cancer.

Grandpa led them across the sticky floor to the stairs. "We're on a hill, so the taproom is essentially the basement," he explained. "The rest of the club is upstairs."

The wooden steps were worn from hundreds of feet over a hundred years. More photos lined the staircase. Mom lingered on the fourth step. "It's you but it isn't," she said cryptically.

Lily froze.
Please, not another brain hiccup.
She was having them more and more often these days. "Are you okay, Mom?"

Grandpa doubled back. "Come on, Rose," he said gently. He lifted her fingers away from a photograph and then guided her upstairs. He didn't look at Lily.