The Four Seasons (36 page)

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY THE WEATHER
was unseasonably warm. The hotel opened a few of the patio doors to allow the sum-merlike air to circulate through the garden restaurant. Beyond thick glass walls, the large swimming pool fooled them into thinking they were breakfasting on the veranda. The garden theme of the restaurant was carried to the hilt with ferns and plants everywhere and with waiters wearing forest-green aprons. Lauren ran around as if she was outdoors, from table to table, then to the wall, pressing her nose and palms flat against the glass and staring with fascination at the wavy water of the pool.

Lauren
. Her granddaughter! Jilly couldn't look at the beguiling child, with her red-gold ringlets and luminous brown eyes, without feeling a wave of love unlike any she'd known before. She finally understood why grandmothers were so dotty about their grandchildren. She couldn't wait to spoil Lauren with candy and gifts, to hold her and smell her and kiss her—anything just to keep her close. Lauren was her second chance.
She was so grateful to God and to Anne Marie for this unexpected gift.

The brunch had gone very smoothly, considering all the tension. Jilly sat between Anne Marie and her mother, Susan Parker. She was a handsome woman in her mid-fifties and dressed to the nines in a scarlet suit with accessories to match. Across the table, Rose chatted valiantly with stoic Kyle, who looked as if he couldn't wait to get out of his suit. Beside them sat an equally glum Hannah. The poor girl was as upset and confused as Rose that Birdie hadn't come to the brunch. Hannah had sheepishly entered the restaurant and mumbled the message that Birdie had some patient emergency that needed her attention. While the excuse worked to smooth over any unpleasantness, it did not fool Jilly or Rose.

Jilly's smile was constant, despite the splitting headache that persisted after a restless night. While Susan and Anne Marie volleyed stories of Anne Marie's childhood, she offered polite and cheerful comments and questions. Mostly, however, she was slavishly grateful that Susan had the gift of gab. She did the yeoman's share of the work, keeping the conversation humming and not allowing for a moment of awkward silence to mar this reunion.

Yet it was annoying, too. Whenever Jilly tried to have a quiet word alone with Anne Marie, there was Susan, reaching up to smooth a hair from Anne Marie's face, or linking arms with her, or bringing up some tidbit from the past. She was determined to show Jilly that she and Anne Marie were closer than any mother and daughter could possibly be.

Jilly watched the performance and wished she could just put her arms around Susan and reassure her there was no need to fret. She was not there to snatch her child from her. She couldn't have even if she'd wanted to. All she wanted was the chance to be invited to their table once again.

When a tanned, fresh-faced young waitress delivered the bill, both Jilly and Susan lunged for it. Their fingers each rested possessively over the slip of paper.

“This is mine,” Jilly said good-naturedly. “It's the least I can do.”

“Oh, no,” Susan exclaimed through a hard smile. Her eyes glittered, determined to win. “You're our guest.”

“Don't be silly. Let me.”

“This is our city. And I'm so delighted to be able to host such a happy reunion for my daughter.”

She'd laid down the gauntlet.
My daughter
. Jilly heard the proclamation in those two words and knew that she couldn't challenge this woman's claim. No matter how much Jilly might feel like Anne Marie's mother, this woman
was
her mother. The woman who had lovingly raised and cared for Anne Marie. Jilly retracted her hand and tucked it neatly in her lap.

“Thank you,” she said, meeting Susan's eyes. There was a moment's impasse and she hoped that Susan would hear and understand that she was grateful for so much more than brunch.

“Is that your other sister?” Susan asked as she placed her credit card on the bill. She was looking over toward the door with an animated expression. “She looks rather like you.”

Jilly swung her head around to see Birdie standing at the entrance of the restaurant. Her heart soared; Birdie had come around after all. She swept to her feet to greet her, grinning from ear to ear. Looking across the table she caught Rose's eye.

In contrast, Rose's eyes had narrowed and her brow crinkled. She jerked her head toward Birdie with meaning.
Don't you see?

Caught off guard, Jilly looked at Birdie again and saw that she was carrying something in her hands. Squinting, her breath hitched in her throat with stunned surprise. Instantly her hopes deflated. This was no visit of reconciliation. This was an act of
duty. As co-executor of the trust fund, Birdie had come solely to deliver the time capsule.

Birdie spotted the party and began walking their way, her chin up and her back straight. She was dressed severely in a dark suit with chunks of icy diamonds in her ears. Birdie could look imposing on a good day, on a bad one, she was like a thundercloud rolling over a picnic. Her cool attitude swept across the room. As she approached the table, Anne Marie and Kyle stood up.

Jilly didn't have time to regroup. “Hello, Birdie. Glad to see you could make it.”

She ignored Jilly and turned instead toward Susan Parker. “How do you do,” she said, preempting Jilly's introduction. “I'm Beatrice Connor.”

“Hannah's mother,” Jilly added, trying to add a little warmth.

Susan remained sitting and raised a limp hand. “You're the doctor, then?”

Birdie's manner was frigid. She took the hand briefly before letting it go. “That's right.”

Jilly felt a clammy cold surround her heart as she felt Anne Marie's presence beside her. She wanted to spare both Anne Marie and Birdie this moment, but there was no escape. Somehow, she found her voice. “And this is Anne Marie.”

She saw Birdie's face pale as her gaze swept over the young woman. When a slow flush crept up her cheeks Jilly knew that she'd recognized the cleft in her chin. To Jilly's profound relief, she accepted Anne Marie's hand with cool grace.

“Anne Marie,” Birdie said, her face barely moving to form a smile. “We meet at last.”

Kyle stepped forward to shake her hand and mumble a greeting, but it was Lauren who shattered Birdie's icy composure. The little girl surprised everyone by running up and
crashing against the pair of long legs, wrapping her arms around them.

“Hi!” she chirped as only a child could, and turned her head to gaze impishly up at the strange woman.

While Anne Marie and her family chuckled and made comments about how cute that was, Jilly froze. Birdie coolly looked down at the little girl. She cracked a smile that did not reach her eyes as she studied the little girl that still clung to her leg.

“I see Lauren's introduced herself,” Jilly said with faint cheer.

The little girl decided she'd had enough of this and ran off again. Kyle walked off to keep an eye on her, no doubt relieved to leave the women to themselves. Hannah sneaked away, too, and began engaging Lauren in a game of hide-and-seek in the palm trees.

“I don't know if Jillian told you about the time capsule,” Birdie said in a formal tone now that the introductions were over.

“No, I haven't had time to do that,” Jilly replied tightly. “Perhaps now isn't the time?” She was furious at Birdie. Jilly glanced quickly across the table at Rose, whose worried expression confirmed Jilly's guess. This was Birdie's way of stating that she would not give the money to Anne Marie. She was washing her hands of the situation as soon as her duty here was finished.

“I think this is as good a time as any,” Birdie replied, gaining the upper hand.

Jilly's eyes flashed a warning.
Don't
.

Birdie stared back a challenge.

“Perhaps it
is
the right time,” Rose said, stepping forward with a gracious smile.

Jilly glanced back at her, surprised.

Rose picked up a spoon from the table and gently clinked the side of a water glass. Kyle and Hannah looked up from
across the room and she waved them over. “Won't you sit down?” she asked, including them all in her gaze.

Jilly and Birdie took seats at opposite sides of the table, apprehension on their faces. Lauren squirmed in Kyle's lap. Anne Marie sat beside her mother and Hannah beside hers. They all turned to look up at the petite woman in an unremarkable dress with fabulous hair flowing down her back. Jilly wondered wildly what Rose was up to and sat erect, nervously clenching her hands in her lap. Rose bent to take the time capsule from Birdie, then strolled to Anne Marie's side.

“I'd like to tell you a story,” she began in her melodic voice. Everyone shifted in his or her seat to listen. “It's about your aunt Meredith Season, who we called Merry. She was our youngest sister. The fourth Season. Not only in age, but also in mentality. She had an accident as a child and never progressed beyond the mental abilities of a girl of, oh, about seven or eight. Though, like most children, she could sometimes be very, very wise.”

At this Anne Marie smiled and a light chuckle echoed in the room.

“We never acknowledged your birth openly,” she said to Anne Marie. “This was a tragedy that hurt us not only individually but also as a family. It was a tragedy that each of us is very sorry about. It is also something that Merry never reconciled. She loved you in her child's way from the moment she knew you'd been born and asked for you time and time again.

“‘Where is Spring?' she would say. That's the name that she gave you. Spring, after the season you were born in. She named a baby doll Spring and a night never passed for twenty-six years that she didn't sleep with it and kiss you good-night in the guise of this doll.

“But she knew the real Spring—you, Anne Marie—was out there somewhere. And she worried about you, loved you, and
couldn't rest until you were found. So before she died, her last request to us, her sisters, was that we find you. And when we did, we were to give you her dearest possession—this time capsule.”

Rose looked at the old worn and taped shoe box in her hands. “You might wonder what value this time capsule has to you. This little box was put together by the three of us—me, Jilly and Birdie, when we were very young. I was only six, which would have made Birdie eleven and Jilly thirteen. It's filled with tokens of our childhood. All the little nothings that meant everything to us. What Merry is giving you, in this box, is the essence of who we are. Your mother and your aunts. She wanted you to have it so that you would always have the very best part of ourselves to call your own.

“We don't know what's in it, at least not all of it. We each put something special inside, but it was all very secret. As you can see, it's not been opened.” She placed the fingertips of one hand lovingly on top of the box, then handed it to Anne Marie. “It's yours now. As your aunt I believe I can speak for all of us and tell you that in finding you, we have indeed found Spring.”

Anne Marie accepted the box with reverence, her turquoise eyes overflowing.

Jilly was undone. Rose had said everything that she wished she could have said. She hated crying in public, but she knew she'd lost the battle as her lips began to tremble, then her shoulders started to shake. In a sudden gush, tears began flowing down her cheeks.

Anne Marie hurried to her side. They wrapped their arms around each other and wept. Jilly held on to her daughter, squeezing her tight, reveling in the feel of her child in her arms for the first time. How many times had she dreamed of this moment, never believing it would happen? “Thank you, Merry,” she whispered.

Jilly!
She heard her name whispered and looked over her shoulder, but no one was there. She heard the voice again, a child's voice.
Jilly!

“Where's my grandchild?” Jilly asked, scanning the room, feeling a sudden unease.

“Lauren!” Anne Marie called into the sudden silence, walking quickly around the room.

Suddenly the room felt cold as they all realized that Lauren wasn't in it. At once, they all began calling her name with attempted calm. No one wanted to express the panic they all felt as they began to search around the tables and tall plants of the restaurant.

“Oh, she's probably just playing hide-and-seek,” Susan said, but her face was white.

“I'll check the lobby,” Kyle said curtly, jogging from the room.

“I'll check outside,” Hannah volunteered and sprinted through the doors.

Jilly, Birdie and Rose stopped at different areas of the room and zeroed in on one another, their eyes wide with panic. In that frozen moment, they all shared one thought between them.

The pool.

Without a word, they took off on a run. It was a reflex action, driven by memory.

Jilly sprinted across the restaurant, her breath coming short. She heard again the high call of the birds circling around her.
Jilly! Jilly! Help!
Her feet hit the floor in time to her prayer, “Not again, not again, not again.”