The Cinderella Hour (2 page)

Quail Ridge was home to some of Chicagoland’s wealthiest
families. The not-so-wealthy lived here, too. And, Mrs. Evans noted, the not
wealthy at all. That was another of the terrific things about the township.
There wasn’t a sense of the haves and have-nots—or even the haves and
have-mores.

“Everyone believes that no one is
better
than anyone
else. Some people are simply better
off.
”

Education was a priority, according to Mrs. Evans. The town’s
founding father, Edwin Larken, planned it that way. Each section of town had
its own excellent elementary and junior high schools. And for the final three
years of college preparation, every Quail Ridge child attended the nationally
renowned Larken High.

Mrs. Evans knew the school system well. For the past fifteen
years, she had been the school nurse for both Pinewood and Hilltop Elementary,
dividing her days between the two.

“The town’s children are so healthy,” she said, “so cared for
by their parents, that I’m not needed full-time either place.”

Hilltop, she added, was where Quail Ridge’s heirs and
heiresses went to school. Its parklike campus, which also encompassed Hilltop
Junior High, was located among the estates on the ridge for which the town was
named.

Larken High, by contrast, had a lowland location, and a
central one, an easy commute for all its enrollees. Snow would meet the heirs
and heiresses in high school. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, Snow and
Miranda—Mira—Larken would be attending high school at the same time. Hadn’t she
heard from Pinewood’s principal that the new student from Atlanta was in third
grade?

Snow’s answering nod prompted a prediction from Mrs. Evans.
Snow and Mira would become friends.

“Mira Larken, you said?” Leigh murmured.

“Yes. Mira’s father is Edwin Larken III—or Trey, as he’s been
called since the day he was born. Trey means three,” she clarified for Snow. “I’m
not sure what Trey’s son’s nickname would have been. Quattro, I suppose, or
some similar indication that he was Edwin Larken IV. But Trey has only the
girls, the daughters, Vivian and Mira.”

“What’s Vivian like?” Leigh asked next.

“She’s very much the well-bred young lady she’s supposed to
be. She and Mira definitely share the Larken genes. In fact, since Mira’s big
for her age and Vivian is quite petite, they’re sometimes mistaken for twins. But
when it comes to personalities, well, the two couldn’t be more different.
Vivian’s in sixth grade, three years ahead of Mira—and Snow. She’ll have
graduated by the time Snow enters Larken High. But Mira will be there,” Mrs.
Evans reiterated in a way that made Snow eager to meet Mira Larken.

Snow also decided that although the very nice Mrs. Evans
would never say as much, she regarded Mira as the preferred Larken sister for
her to meet.

“Trey’s their father,” Leigh said. “And their mother?”

Snow wondered if Mrs. Evans heard the sudden sharpness in
Leigh’s voice, the edginess that signaled her irritability was about to flare.

Leigh wanted to hear about Mr. and Mrs. Trey Larken
now
.
Snow knew, without understanding why, that Leigh’s choice of Quail Ridge as
their new home—and the site of her new business—was because of the wealthy
families who lived here.

Mrs. Evans cheerfully complied. The marriage of Edwin Larken
III and Marielle DuMonde was a happy topic. The two were ideally suited. Marielle’s
pedigree was a perfect match for his, and they loved each other “to boot”—so
much so that they worked side by side every day.

The Larkens didn’t need to work. There was “oodles” of Larken
and DuMonde money. But both Trey and Marielle came from old wealth, with its
work-ethic tradition, and there was Larken & Son to manage. The auction
house founded by Edwin Larken was a worthy rival to Bonhams & Butterfield
in San Francisco and to Christie’s and Sotheby’s in New York. Chicago might be
viewed as the “second city” by some. But to those in the know, it was top-notch
in every way.

Edwin, himself a firstborn son, made a decree following the
birth of his own first—and male—child. Larken & Son would exist only as
long as there was a firstborn son to inherit it. It might have been the gambler
in Edwin making such a proclamation. Or maybe it was a macho challenge to
future Larken men. I had a firstborn son, can you do it, too?

Mrs. Evans didn’t hide her disapproval of such a mandate. As
a nurse, she was familiar with procreation and knew for a fact that whether the
baby was male or female had nothing to do with the prowess of the father.

“Procreation” and “prowess” were unfamiliar to Snow. She
would have to look them up. But it was obvious how silly Mrs. Evans considered
Edwin Larken’s decree to be—especially since Vivian was so bright she would be able
to run the auction house just as effectively as any man.

“Probably
better.
I doubt it will happen, though. From
all accounts, Trey’s unlikely to break with tradition and hand the reins of
Larken & Son to his daughter. I suppose that’s for the best. Vivian can
become whatever she wants to be. But the notion that just because she’s a
daughter, not a—oh, for heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Evans exclaimed as she caught a
glimpse of a boy on the street outside. He was walking into the wind, staring
the iciness straight in the eye, his long black hair whipping his face. “What’s
Lucas Kilcannon doing here? And where
is he going?”

The answer to her second question was obvious. He was heading
for the forested ravine.

“That ravine isn’t safe,” she said. “He could get lost or
injured and never be found. Why on earth would he want to go there anyway?”

The why remained a mystery. The wanting didn’t. His gait sent
a message—a warning, really—to stay away. The warning was so unmistakable that
Mrs. Evans, who clearly felt the urge to rush to the door and invite him in for
cookies and tea, didn’t move.

Nor did Snow, who felt a similar urge. But she asked, “Who is
he?”

“My across-the-street neighbor,” Mrs. Evans replied. “Not
that I really know him or his father.”

Her expression indicated there was quite a bit more to say.
Her frown suggested she was debating what, if anything, she should reveal.

“Doesn’t he go to your school?”

“
Your
school, Snow. Yes. Luke’s in sixth grade at
Pinewood Elementary.”

“What does his father do?” Snow asked.

It was a desperate question, a way to find out whatever she
could before Leigh got the conversation back on track. She knew that Leigh,
pleased with Mrs. Evans’s revelations about the lives and loves of Quail Ridge’s
wealthiest residents, was annoyed by the detour to the boy outside. But Mrs.
Evans’s answer placated Leigh, for the Larken name reappeared.

When Larken High’s swim team needed a new coach, Trey Larken,
who was school-board president at the time and had himself swum for Larken High,
remembered a swimmer he had competed against. Jared Kilcannon had been poised
for collegiate super-stardom—and maybe Olympic gold—until a motorcycle accident
ripped his rotator cuff to shreds. Jared’s name had recently emerged again. He
was coaching at a lesser school downstate. Trey picked up the phone and as they
say, Mrs. Evans said, the rest was history. Under Jared’s guidance, the Larken
High Cougars had gone from last to first.

“Does Luke swim?” Snow asked.

“He did. I’m not sure if he does anymore. And I’ve heard
rumors . . . But, well, you know what they say about half truths, don’t you,
Snow? A half truth is a whole lie.”

Snow had never heard that before and didn’t want to examine
it very closely. Leigh created her world, their world, on half truths—at best. “What
does that have to do with whether Luke swims?”

“Rumors are half truths, don’t you think? Sometimes less than
half. I’ve heard rumors about Luke’s swimming, or rather his not swimming, but
I have no idea which of those rumors, if any, are true. Suffice it to say that
for whatever reason swimming isn’t Luke’s cup of tea.”

“Are Jared and the Larkens close?” Leigh wondered.

“I don’t know. But I wouldn’t know. The Larkens’ social
circle is very different from mine, a social circle unto itself. I do know that
Jared’s become one of the town’s most popular citizens. Swimming is huge in
Quail Ridge. We don’t have a football team, so it’s really
the
competitive sport. I also know that for the past few summers Jared’s been
giving private swimming lessons, among other things, at Hilltop Country Club.”

“Other things?”

“I gather he’s an excellent golfer. A gifted athlete over
all. He gives golf lessons, too, and plays golf with club members whenever they
need someone to round out a foursome.”

“Does he play with women as well as men?”

“That I don’t know. But I’m sure they would be delighted if
he did. He’s very good-looking, very charming.”

“Having the rich ladies of Hilltop Country Club drooling over
him can’t make his wife too happy.”

“Oh. I forgot to tell you. Jared’s a single parent, Leigh.
Like you. Unlike your valiant policeman husband, however, Jared’s wife—Luke’s
mother—didn’t die. She simply left.”

“Left?”

“It was awful. One evening, six years ago, she and Jared
loaded up her car and off she went. I watched it happen, although I didn’t know
at the time what I was seeing. She was going on a trip, I thought. Maybe she
and Luke were going. He also helped load the car. I remember him standing in
the driveway, holding a box, waiting to be told where to put it. The box was
gigantic for him. He was only five. It looked heavy, too. But he held it and
held it while his parents talked. When Suzanne finally took it from him, she
put it in the car and drove away.” Mrs. Evans drew a shaky breath. “Luke waved
goodbye. She didn’t. She didn’t even look back.”

“Why?”

“Why did Suzanne Kilcannon leave? I have no idea, Snow. Jared’s
always gentlemanly when he talks about it. The marriage didn’t work out. He
wishes her well. She has problems of her own to resolve. That sort of thing.
And he always says that he’s the lucky one . . . because he . . . has their
son.”

Mrs. Evans’s sudden shakiness became distress. Instead of
ignoring it, as the old Leigh would have, Snow’s mother leaned forward and
covered Mrs. Evans’s hands with her own. The gesture reminded Snow of Scarlett
pretending to comfort her archrival Melanie.

Mrs. Evans seemed comforted, as Melanie had.

“What is it, Bea?” Leigh asked, addressing her for the first
time by her first name. “What’s wrong?”

“It has more to do with me than Jared or Luke.”

“We’d like to hear,” Leigh said so convincingly Snow believed
it must be true. “If you want to tell us.”

“It’s just unimaginable to me that a mother could ever leave
her child. My ex-husband and I tried so hard to have a baby. I would become
pregnant, only to miscarry a few weeks later. First-trimester miscarriages are
common, of course. I know that from nursing school. And, in many instances,
they’re a consequence of developmental abnormalities. A miscarriage, I’ve heard
people say, is Mother Nature’s way of being kind, not cruel.”

“But it felt cruel to you,” Leigh whispered.

“Yes, it did. Even crueler was my eventual inability to
conceive at all. With that, any hope of a baby was gone. My husband wanted
children as much as I did. He has three of them now, with his new wife.” She
sighed. “Our marriage was falling apart around the time Suzanne left Jared and
Luke. I worry that if I had been a better neighbor, more available to Suzanne
and less preoccupied with my own problems, Luke might not have become a
motherless child.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I suppose not.” Mrs. Evans sat up straight and reclaimed her
hands from Leigh. “Enough of this self-pity! I have nothing to complain about.
I’m fortunate to work where I do, with all my wonderful surrogate children to
enjoy. I only wish I could have been there more for Luke.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Snow asked.

“Nothing, dear.
Nothing
is wrong with him. He’s just a
loner, that’s all.”

Leigh had another take on Luke, which she shared after Mrs.
Evans left—and after first sharing her take on Bea. She was such a Pollyanna,
Leigh said, a card-carrying member of the
If you can’t say something nice
about someone don’t say anything
society. Leigh would have appreciated a
little down-and-dirty gossip, which she felt certain Beatrice Evans knew.

Still, the afternoon hadn’t been a total loss.

“I’ll bet Jared Kilcannon’s keeping the ladies of the club
very
happy. I wonder how much he’s charging for his services.”

Snow imagined Luke’s father made a good salary at Hilltop
Country Club. Why else would he spend the summer away from his son? And it was
his job to make club members happy, wasn’t it?

But Leigh’s smile suggested there was more, a secret Snow was
too young to understand. What she said next made even less sense. “I’m glad the
Kilcannons live four long blocks away. Our paths will never need to cross.”