Tidings of Great Boys (6 page)

“We were made for each other.”

I found Gillian and Shani in the Twins’ Room, so named for my grandfather and his brother, who were born six minutes apart.
That six minutes, though, meant my grandpa and then my dad got the house, though it would go to my cousin Roger when—when
Dad didn’t live here anymore. So, two generations later, the younger twin would keep things going.

“You can have your own rooms, you know,” I told them. “You don’t have to share.”

“It’s all good,” Gillian told me. “You had Shani all term, so I’m going to have her now.”

“Don’t you guys get in each other’s faces?” I never met two such outspoken people. Other than myself, of course.

Shani raised her eyebrows at me. “Sure. That’s part of the fun. I always know where I stand with this girl. Besides, I have
to suck up to her. Otherwise the care packages her Nai-Nai sends me will stop coming.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Meet you down in the hall in half an hour, okay? I’m dying for tea. We’ll do the tour after.”

“She means supper,” Gillian told Shani before she could ask.

“I know, ye numpty,” Shani said in a dead-on impression of… me.

“Ye wee rascal,” I told her. “We’ll make a Scots lass out o’ ye yet.”

Laughing, I left them to it. Those two were a total match for each other; far be it from me to get between them. Back in my
room, I left the door open a couple of inches in case anyone wanted me. Hmm. It looked like Dad had had the walls plastered—the
crack above the window was gone. The quilt on my bed had been swapped out with another of Grannie’s quilts. I had a third
one on my bed in Mummy’s flat in Eaton Square. It felt a little odd to have my stuff scattered in three places on the globe.
My clothes and shoes and school clobber were in California. Recent acquisitions like my stereo and books were in London. And
here, it was like stepping back into my childhood. I hadn’t been much of a child for dolls. Instead, books lined the room
on white shelves three feet high—Elizabeth Goudge, Tove Jansson’s Moomins series, Enid Blyton’s Adventure books, all stuffed
in haphazardly as I’d read them again and again. The dresser, also painted white, held everything from jeans to sweaters,
and I knew that downstairs in the scullery I’d find my anoraks and a collection of coats that probably dated back to the sixties.
Hmm. At least they’d be in fashion again—Lissa would love that. Even though there wouldn’t be anything but rooks and deer
for miles, she could sally forth knowing her coat was vintage and on the cutting edge.

I pulled my computer out of its case and plugged it in, and checked my phone for messages. One from Carrie and one from Mummy.
Aha! Operation Prodigal Mum was about to begin.

“Darling!” she greeted me without even saying hello. “Welcome back. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to the airport, but your connection
was only what, twenty minutes?”

“Something like that. We barely made it. Of course, our party filled half the plane, so they couldn’t very well go without
us. And Dad met us, and here we are.”

“What do the girls think of the old place?”

“They haven’t seen much but the hall and their rooms, but I thought Carly’s eyes were going to fall out of her head. She’s
keeping Frances Arbuthnot company, completely blissful with all the old stuff.”

“That’s because she doesn’t have to clean it and keep it in order.”

Neither do you.
I buttoned my lip. If I were to be successful in this campaign, it wouldn’t do to go ticking my mother off during the first
two minutes. “Have you seen Lissa’s parents?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, they just left. I had them in to dinner. What a lovely girl Patricia is.”

She was probably the same age as my mother, or maybe a couple of years older. “I knew you’d like her. You should come for
Christmas and spend some time with them while they’re here.”

Mummy laughed. “Hardly, darling. I don’t expect your father is in the mood for the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

“Whether he is or not, he’s going to get a Christmas like the ones you used to put on.”

“Darling, Christmas is only a week away. I used to begin work in September for our little parties.”

“How hard can it be? I’ll simply send out the invitations by e-mail, order the food catered, and everyone will turn up. Easy.”

Mummy laughed, but the musical notes of it had an edge of mockery I didn’t particularly like. “I think you’ll find catering
is nonexistent in the village, and the people in Inniscairn and even Aberdeen will have been booked up for months.”

“I’ll have everything flown in from Edinburgh, then.”

“Good luck getting your father’s approval on that.”

Unless she planned to help me, it wasn’t fair of her to sit there in London and rain on my parade. “Honestly, could you be
any less encouraging?”

“Look at it practically, darling. It took me months to arrange events at Strathcairn. People in the village worked for weeks,
and everyone came and helped out. How are you going to get the same results in such a short time? You have to be realistic.
And let’s face it, the money—” She stopped.

“What about the money?”

“You can’t just pick up the phone and expect it to solve everything,” she said lightly. “People have other obligations.”

“Well, then, we’ll do it ourselves. I have four friends here to help, and my friends in the village will, too. You’ll see.
I’ll have everything pulled together in time, and it will be talked of for months.”

“I do hope you’ll send me photographs. What a wonderful invention Flickr is.”

“You’d do better to see it in person.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, darling. I shall live it vicariously through your pictures and stand amazed at my talented daughter’s
feats of social brilliance.”

“You will,” was all I said. “Love you.”

“And you. ’Bye-bye, love.”

So much for the opening salvo. I disconnected and tossed my phone in my bag. It was time to bring in the big guns.

I walked down the corridor and knocked on Lissa’s door.

I
NEED YOUR HELP.”

She closed the top drawer of the bureau, and turned to me without hesitation. “This is your house, so I don’t know what use
I can be. What do you need?”

“I just talked to Mummy. She had your parents in to dinner this evening, and she and your mum seem to have hit it off. I need
you to call your mum and have her convince mine to come for Christmas.”

Lissa reached behind her for the edge of the bed and sat slowly. “And a woman she’s met once is going to convince her when
her own daughter can’t?”

“I’m hoping so.”

“Isn’t that a little… intrusive?”

“Lissa, you don’t understand. It’s not enough for me to ask her. She isn’t listening and I think—”

Carly stuck her head in the door. “Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Lissa waved her in. “We’re having a war council.”

“Strategizing again?” Carly smiled at me.

“It worked on your dad, didn’t it?”

“I think it wasn’t so much our strategy as it was his wanting to get one over on my mom.”

“But I paved the way. If we hadn’t softened him up beforehand, it would have gone much differently.”

“You’re probably right.” Carly yawned so hugely I heard her jaw crack. “Does anyone but me feel like it’s the middle of the
night?”

“Um, hello, it’s tomorrow morning.” Gillian and Shani came in and shut the door behind them, though there wasn’t a soul on
the whole floor but us. “Or is it last night? The clock says nine p.m. but we’re…” She gazed into the distance. “I’m too tired
to even calculate what time it is.”

“It’s one in the afternoon, California time,” I said helpfully.

“Yes, but which day?” Then Shani waved her hands, pushing an answer away. “Never mind. What’s going on?”

“Mac’s mom won’t come home for Christmas, so she’s trying to rope mine into convincing her,” Lissa said. “I don’t think it’ll
work.”

“Just try.” I hoped I didn’t sound like I was begging.

To give Lissa credit, she convinced her mother to ring mine up and offer to include her in their party. But when Patricia
called half an hour later, the only person who’d managed to accomplish anything was Lissa. She’d unpacked her underwear and
filled another drawer with it.

“No luck.” Lissa tapped her iPhone off and gave me an apologetic look. “Apparently your mom was nice as could be, but she
still said no.”

I clutched my hair in frustration, which didn’t do it any favors. “What is the matter with that woman? She and my dad are
perfectly civil to one another. Would it hurt so much to come up here and spend one single holiday?”

“Maybe she’s afraid,” Carly said softly.

“Afraid of what? Dad is the least threatening person on the planet!”

“Not to someone who was in love with him once.”

I stared at her. Lissa and Gillian stared at her. Shani just smiled.

“Oh, my,” I said. “I think I’ve just had a brain wave. And we’re rolling to Plan D.”

COULD MY MOTHER still be in love with my dad? If so, what on earth was keeping her from chucking her divorce decree and coming
back? I knew it wasn’t another man—unless someone had stepped into her life since I’d seen her in October at the trial.

No, it must be something else—and I was going to find out when I finally got her here.

“All right, listen,” I told the girls. “Mummy has two weaknesses. If Carly is right—and I don’t know if you are.” I glanced
at her. “But if you’re right, Dad is one of them. And the other is her social standing.”

They blinked at me. “You mean like her title?” Carly asked. “The one she still uses even though technically she isn’t married
to an earl anymore?”

“Yes, but it’s more than that.” I tried to think it through as I spoke. “She’s always on about mixing with the right crowd.
Her friends are all titled, and half of them are still Sloane Rangers deep inside.”

“What Rangers?” Shani asked.

I waved an impatient hand at the interruption. “That’s what they used to call girls like us who shopped on Sloane Street in
London—but my point is, they wear certain things not because they like them but because women in their position are supposed
to look a certain way.”

“My mom would probably fit right in,” Shani said. “Except that now she can’t afford it.”

“Right. So you know what I’m talking about. I’m betting Mum will see our Christmas festivities as a reflection on her—because
she’s made sure in the past that everything was just so in comparison with the parties of all the other ladies. If I make
sure she knows about every little thing, it will drive her crazy that it’s not being done the way she thinks is right.”

“Control freak?” Lissa asked.

“Maybe a little. Or someone who can’t see that a different way isn’t bad, it’s just different.”

“I don’t know,” Gillian said. “That doesn’t seem like much of a plan. Depending on control-freakishness, I mean.”

“But it’s all we’ve got.”

Gillian gazed at me thoughtfully. “How can you be sure that bringing your mom up here is the right thing? You don’t have any
evidence she still loves your dad.”

“Neither of them has married again, have they?” I couldn’t help it if my tone challenged her. These were my parents, after
all. Gillian hadn’t even been here for an hour. What did she know?

“That could just be because they haven’t met anybody they want to get serious about. Doesn’t your mom date?”

Admitting it seemed like undercutting my own argument. “Yes. But having someone escort you to the races or take you to dinner
isn’t the same as marrying him.”

“But she’s looking. She’s on the market.”

“No!”

“Gillian, leave her alone.” Lissa put a hand on my arm. “I’m with Mac. My mom could decide to fly home tonight instead of
coming up here on Friday. It’s tearing me up. I’d do anything I could to get my parents on the same thousand acres and keep
them there.” She smiled at me, and some of the hard lumps of anger inside me softened. A little. “You and I are on the same
page,” she told me. “Anything you need me to do, I’ll do.”

“Same goes for me.” Lissa and I had never been particularly close—not in the way she and Gillian were, or even Carly and I.
We had hardly anything in common—she liked fairy-princess designers like Robin Brouillette and Maja Fortescu while I liked
them edgy, like Alexander Wang, or classic, like Chanel. She liked surf music and Hawaiian slack-key guitar, and thought my
alt-Celtic stuff was annoying. And don’t even get me started on food.

But here was something two people from opposite sides of the world agreed on: Our parents were meant to be together, no matter
what they thought about it personally.

Across the hall, my mobile rang. “Maybe that’s Mummy, changing her mind.” I bounced off the bed and ran into my room, snatching
up the phone.

But it wasn’t Mummy.

“Mac,” Carrie shrieked. “Lachlan said he saw you coming through the village. Why have you no’ called me back?”

“It’s only been an hour. I’ve got people to sort. It is so good to hear your voice.”

“You’d have heard it sooner if you’d called me back. When are you coming over?”