Man Who Loved Pride and Prejudice (39 page)

   "Not particularly. Why?"

   Cassie couldn't help but see the humor in the situation. "Neither is Erin, and I have the feeling they're both about to get a lecture from the minister. I wish I could watch."

   "Maybe he can do some good where we couldn't. I wouldn't mind that."

   "Me either." But she thought it unlikely. "Where is everybody?"

   Calder released her. "At the restaurant. Ann herded everyone out. My parents took the girls with them."

   "Oh, no." The idea of Calder's parents with her nieces was a more dangerous proposition than the minister with Scott and Erin. "We'd better get over there before somebody's killed."

   Astonishingly enough, everyone seemed to be conversing amicably when they arrived at the dimly lit Italian restaurant Ann had chosen. Cassie had to hide a laugh when she heard Joe Westing ask her father whether he thought the Sox could take the pennant this year.

   Alicia ran between the tables and skidded to a halt in front of them. "Cassie, look what Uncle Joe gave me!" She pointed to a gold locket around her neck. "It's to wear at the wedding, and it's got a
diamond.
Teresa has one, too. Wait till Mom sees us!"

   "
Uncle Joe?
I hope you thanked the Senator nicely." Cassie wondered how he had managed that. Calder's father couldn't have known who was in the wedding party. Perhaps he came with his pocket full of potential bribes and improvised. Cassie wouldn't put it past him.

   "We did, and we got to ride in their limo. It has a
refrigerator
in it, and he gave us pop."

   Joe Westing turned to look their way. Cassie wondered if it were possible to be any more mortified. She couldn't imagine what Calder was thinking, especially when Joe started to amble in their direction.

   Alicia lit up even more at his approach. "It has a TV in it, too, don't it, Uncle Joe?"

   Yes, it was possible to be more mortified. "Thank you for giving the girls a ride, Senator, and for the lovely necklaces as well."

   "My pleasure, and I told them to call me Uncle Joe. I suppose it should be Great-uncle Joe, but that's such a mouthful." He radiated sincerity, as if he always told multiracial slum children to call him uncle.

   "How kind of you," Cassie said with a tinge of sharpness. "Calder, perhaps we should find our seats."

   "Good idea," Joe said, as if it had been an act of ingenuity on her part.

   Once they were seated, Cassie could avoid looking at the impossible combinations of people around them. Gradually the others came to their places at the long table, Cassie's parents and the girls at one end while the Crowleys sat with Joe and Caro at the other. Erin and Scott's seats remained glaringly empty. It was an uncomfortable fifteen minutes before Ann told the waiters to go ahead with serving the meal anyway.

   Erin and Scott had still not arrived by the time dessert was served. Caro left her seat and approached Cassie. "We're hoping you and Calder will come back to our hotel for a drink afterwards. We'd like a chance to get to know you."

   Cassie didn't need to look at Calder; she could feel his tension. "Thank you, but I'm afraid we can't. After a busy day like this, Calder and I do best if we have some quiet time." She watched his mother for a reaction, wondering if she knew that her son would be feeling overwhelmed by the crowd at the rehearsal and dinner, no matter how pretty his manners were. She didn't see anything, though; she had the feeling her future motherin-law was going to prove very difficult to read. "Perhaps we could manage something tomorrow morning."

   "That would be lovely, dear. Tom and Fiona won't be arriving until after lunch, I'm afraid. They're cutting it a little close, but it's hard for him to get away. Would lunch work, or would breakfast be better for you?"

   Calder said, "Lunch will be fine."

   Cassie winced as Alicia and Teresa spotted their opportunity and swooped down on Joe. Perhaps she could say it was their bedtime and take them back to the house.

Cassie went straight to the telephone when they arrived back at their hotel and dialed Erin's extension. The phone rang several times, long enough to worry her, but finally Erin answered.

   "Erin, it's Cassie. Are you okay?"

   "I'm fine. I'm sorry about missing the rehearsal dinner. I hope it wasn't a problem." Her voice seemed oddly stiff.

   "Don't worry about that." Cassie could understand why she might want to avoid it after the episode at the church. "But I felt bad about deserting you with the minister." Not to mention Scott.

   "It's fine. He was very nice."

   If Erin was determined not to tell her what had happened, there was little Cassie could do about it. She wondered what kind of shape Scott was in, if Erin was refusing to talk. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Everything's fine. Don't…"

   Cassie heard a rustling, then Scott's amused voice. "She'll talk to you tomorrow, Cassie. We're busy. Good night."

   There was a click at the other end. Cassie stared at the phone and laughed.

CALDER BUTTONED HIS CUFFS carefully. His mother would be certain to notice it was the same shirt he had worn the night before. He could picture the little frown on her face. But it was the only dress shirt he'd brought along, apart from his tux. "I can't believe I'm wasting part of my wedding day having lunch with my parents."

   "It could be worse. Your father and I will probably fight enough he won't have energy for you. I can't tell what your mother is thinking, though." Cassie slipped on her black shoes.

   "Neither can I—never could. Until Dave told me how she used to be, I assumed she was happy being my father's shadow. Now I don't know what to make of her."

   Cassie put her hand on his arm. "It took me forever to learn to read you, and that was with a lot of help from your book. I wish your mother came with a book."

   His parents' hotel suite was just what he expected— large and at the most exclusive hotel in the city. There was a linen-covered table for four in the sitting area, with a small buffet off to the side. He had hoped they would be eating in the restaurant. There was less to worry about in public.

   His mother evidently decided she should show more interest in her future daughter-in-law. "Is everything ready for the wedding?" she asked Cassie.

   "I certainly hope so. But I don't know much about it. Ann Crowley made all the arrangements."

   Caro handed Cassie a white plate. "I hope you're not too disappointed you didn't have the chance to plan it yourself."

   "Not at all." Cassie helped herself to shrimp salad. "It's hard to put a wedding together on short notice. I'm grateful Ann did it for me, and I'm sure she did a better job than I would have."

   "You should have told us about it sooner," said Senator Westing in a manner that suggested no one would question his opinions. "We all need to stand together right now."

   "Right now?" Calder asked dryly. So his father was going to ignore the last-minute nature of the wedding.

   "Yes, this is a bad business with my brother Stephen," Joe said. "No question it's going to be damaging, but we have to try to contain it. That article in
People was
a good idea, Calder—helped give people something else to think about. But warn me next time."

   "I'm glad you approve," Calder said. As if his father's approval mattered. "Did you ever find out how the story got out?"

   Senator Westing scowled. "Not yet. We've learned which editor at the
Times
assigned the story to the reporters, but my sources haven't been able to find out how he knew there was something to look for in the first place. We will, though, and then there'll be hell to pay."

   "So, I'm dying to meet your other son and his wife," Cassie said as she carried her plate to the table. Calder automatically held her chair for her. "Calder has told me lots about Tom, but I haven't heard much about Fiona."

   "Fiona is harmless," said Senator Westing dismissively. "She's a good hostess, but she lacks ambition. Tom needs someone who will push him more."

   "House of Representatives by, what, age thirty? Doesn't sound like a lack of ambition to me," Cassie said. Calder was glad she was doing the talking. It took the burden off him.

   "He could have been there sooner. He needs to make a bigger name for himself, so we can keep the seat in the family when I retire."

   "And all this time I've been thinking it was an elective office, not a hereditary fief," she said.

   Joe burst out laughing. "Oh, the innocence of youth. It's time for you to start thinking like a Westing."

   "I hope you don't think that marrying Calder is going to convince me to vote Republican."

   "Oh,
that
doesn't matter," he said.

   "Can I quote you on that?"

   "Don't quote me on anything." Joe took his place at the head of the table. "It's probably better for me this way. I have to work with the damn Democrats all the time, and it'll win me some points if I can complain to them about my daughter-in-law, the Democrat. That's more useful than one more Republican vote in Pennsylvania."

   "In that case, maybe I'll have to take another look at the Republican candidates." The corners of Cassie's mouth twitched.

   "No, just move to Virginia, and we'll run you as a Democrat against Tom, and we'll win either way." He was clearly enjoying himself.

   Calder watched the conversation with a certain cynicism. He had no doubt his father was against his marriage, yet at the same time, he seemed delighted with Cassie. Perhaps he recognized her as possessing the audacity his sons lacked, but which he himself had in such ample quantities. He felt a little sick every time Cassie laughed at one of his father's jokes, praying she wouldn't be taken in by him.

   His mother gave the appearance of someone who was attending closely to the conversation while being peculiarly absent at the same time. Calder tried to see any evidence of the lively, daring girl Dave had described, but it was impossible. Had she ever been like that? When he was very young she had played with him, and he distantly remembered games of hide-and-seek around the house. Then that all stopped, and she became the drill sergeant of proper manners and behavior, until he was more frightened of disappointing her than he was of the social occasions she was trying to groom him for.

   He remembered, too, a time when he failed, when he was six. His parents trotted him out during a party in his uncle's honor, most likely when he won the vicepresidency. There were a host of political cronies and powerful men in attendance, and he blurted out the wrong thing to the wrong person. His father laughed at the time and sent him up to bed with his nanny. But late that night, he appeared in Calder's room, woke him up, and delivered a tongue-lashing as brutal as the unexpected beating that followed it. It was the only time he remembered his father hitting him, but it was memorable. He cried for his mother, but she didn't come, not until the next day after his father left the house. She brought him something for the pain, and rubbed some liniment gently onto his bruised back, and then quietly but firmly began the lessons that would dominate mealtimes with her for years. He hated it, the endless repetitions of "If someone says such-and-such to you, what should you say?" until the answers were so automatic he could give them even when terrified. He knew from books that other parents read their children stories at bedtime; he had bedtime lessons in public deportment.

   Now, as he watched her, he couldn't fault
her
deportment, but he wondered what lay behind it. Did she ever think of those years and wish she had read him stories instead of teaching him how to behave? He doubted it. He wondered how much of a disappointment he was to her. After all her training, he was choosing a life where his ability to perform in public didn't matter.