But Jillian shouldn't have mentioned inviting friends. Friends would take away the specialness of our last evening together for a week. "I'm sorry, Jillian, but I really thought you'd want to go to bed early this evening, so you'd be rested when you reached California. I'll be fine, and if I get home early, your guests will still be here."

"Where are you going?" Tony asked sharply. He had been browsing through this morning's newspaper; now his eyes above the newspaper were very suspicious. "You don't know anyone in Boston but us, and the few older friends we have introduced you to--or have the girls at Winterhaven suddenly embraced you as a friend? That seems unlikely." He raised an eyebrow. "Or perhaps you plan to meet some boy?"

As always when I was hurt, my pride came rushing to the forefront. Of course I'd made many friends in Winterhaven--or they would be sooner or later. I swallowed first. "One of the girls at school has invited me to her birthday party. It's being held in The Red Feather."

"What girl invited you?"

"Faith Morgantile."

"I know her father. He's a scoundrel, though her mother seems decent enough . . still, The Red Feather is not the kind of place I'd pick for my daughter's birthday party."

He continued to eye me up and down, until I felt sweat break out in my armpits. "Don't disappoint me, Heaven," he said, turning back to his paper. "I have heard of The-Red Feather and the parties held there. You are much too young at fifteen to begin drinking beer, or wine, or to sample any of the other adult pursuits that begin in innocent-appearing games. I'm sorry, but I don't think it is a good idea for you to go."

My heart plunged.

The Red Feather was very near Boston University, where Logan Stonewall went to school.

"And," continued Tony, who was still talking, "I have given Miles instructions not to drive you off the grounds until Monday morning. The servants will take care of your needs. If you grow tired of being indoors, you can always explore the grounds."

At this point Jillian looked up, as if she'd heard nothing about anything but the outdoors.

"Don't go to the stables!" cried Jillian. "I want to be the one to introduce you to my horses--my wonderful, beautiful Arabians. We'll do that when we come back,"

For days and days and days she'd been promising that. I no longer believed her.

I had made my play to escape and find Logan, and I had failed. And if they held the party and showed the movie, they'd never miss me, never.

Ten guests would arrive around four for what Jillian called her "Off to California Party." I knew she was still testing me, and a great deal depended on how I went over with this particular group, which included people who had more influence than the ones I'd already met. Then came Tony's information. Everyone had to have a dining partner, and I was the odd one out. "There's a young man I want you to meet," said Tony.

"You're going to like him, darling," said Wan in her whispery-soft way, while an exceedingly handsome young man arranged her hair in a new style. I perched on a delicate chair, watching the marvel of what he could do with a comb, brush, and hair spray. "His name is Ames Colton, and he's eighteen years old. His father won his seat in the House just last year; Tony expects John Colton to end up in the White House."

That made me think of Tom, and his desire to reach the White House someday. Why hadn't Tom answered even one of my three letters? Was Pa somehow keeping them from him? Didn't Tom care anymore now that he knew I was rich and well taken care of? My family had always given me sustenance, a reason to keep on trying. Now I felt all those dear and familiar ties stretching thin and fading away.

"Be nice to Ames, Heaven," said Jillian with a note of authority in her voice. "And please try not to do or say anything to embarra.s.s us in front of our friends.

It was the first real party of my life, and wearing a brand-new floor-length gown of deep blue with sparkling blue beads embroidered on the bodice, I stood between Jillian and Tony near the door. Tony wore a tux and Jillian had on a glittering white outfit that took my breath away.

"Just smile a lot," whispered Tony as the first guests were shown in by Curtis.

Ames Colton was nice enough, not anything at all like Logan. Not exciting like Troy. In fact I considered him too nice, embarra.s.singly impressed by someone like me, who was scared half to death, and a fake. If I did anything right that night I couldn't remember it later. I dropped my napkin, dropped my fork, twice! I stammered when I was asked about my past, and how long I planned to stay. How could I answer when Jillian was staring at me with fear in her eyes?

It took so many dishes to have a party like this, so much silverware; and then, when the meal was over, a dainty little bowl with a silver tray underneath was served by Curtis. He stood quietly waiting as I eyed what appeared to be water with a slim slice of lemon on the top. It puzzled me, that small bowl that sat and waited for me to do something with it. I raised desperate eyes to Tony, then flushed when I saw his sarcastic amus.e.m.e.nt. And very deliberately he dipped his fingertips in that lemon-flavored water, then dried them daintily on his napkin.

Somehow I made it through the evening without any gross mistake to give away my background; I only betrayed my social inexperience. I didn't know what to say when asked for my political opinions. I had no opinions on the state of the nation's economy. I hadn't read any of the recent Hollywood best-sellers that told all, nor had I been to a current movie. I found smiles for answers, and pretenses for getting away, and in my opinion I made a complete jacka.s.s out of myself.

"You were fine," said Tony, coming into my bedroom while I was brushing my hair. "Everyone commented on how much you look like Jillian. That is not odd, for her two older sisters are older editions of Jillian, though they are not as 'well preserved,' so to speak." His expression turned serious. "Now, tell me what you thought of our friends."

How could I tell him exactly what I thought? In some ways it seemed all people were alike, despite their fine clothes, and fancy vocabularies. There were some who talked too much, and sooner or later revealed they were fools. There were some there only to make a good impression, and they'd had as little to say as I had. Then there were others who came to eat and drink, and gossip about those they thought were out of earshot.

"If they had played fiddles, banjos, and stomped their feet, and all worn shoddy clothes, they could have been from the w.i.l.l.i.e.s," I said honestly. "It's just what they talk about that makes them different. n.o.body back home cares about politics, or the nation's economy. Few people read anything other than the Bible or romance magazines."

For the first time since I'd known him, he laughed with genuine amus.e.m.e.nt, and when he smiled at me with a great deal of approval my spirits soared.

"So you weren't impressed by fine clothes and expensive cigars--that's good. You have opinions of your own, that's also good. And you are quite right. Behind every successful man is one who has more than a few flaws."

Then as I sat on my dressing room stool and wished again that Pa had been this kind of man, he spoke seriously. "I heard a weather report a few minutes ago, predicting our first serious snow. We expect to fly out very early Sunday, before the snowstorm arrives. You take good care of yourself, Heaven, while we're gone."

His caution made me feel good. Pa had never said anything like that to me--as if he didn't care what happened. "I wish you and Jillian a safe trip," I said, my throat hoa.r.s.e and hurting.

"Thank you." He smiled again, then stepped close enough to kiss my forehead, and for a moment his hand lingered on my shoulder. "You look so lovely and fresh, sitting there in your pale blue nightgown. Don't let anything or anyone spoil you."

I didn't sleep much that night. The dinner party had revealed to me the great gap between all the friends Jillian and Tony had and the people I'd grown up with. We were all American-born, and yet it seemed we had grown up in different worlds. And all that food that was wasted, enough to feed ten hillbilly families.

Ames Colton would have called on Sunday, if I'd encouraged him at all, but I didn't want him around. I still had plans to find Logan.

Early in the morning, I heard the motor of the limo driving off with Tony and Jillian. I tried to fall back to sleep. At six I was still awake and waiting for the servants to get up. But they were too far away for me to hear them turning on shower or tub water or flushing commodes. I could sniff and never smell the bacon frying in the kitchen, and the aroma of coffee never drifted this far. Well, I thought, at least I had Rye Whiskey if I got too lonely.

The house at seven seemed bleakly empty and lonely. As I dressed I sniffed the air for the drift of Jillian's perfume that always lingered in the upstairs halls. My breakfast at that long table was a lonely affair, made worse by the presence of Curtis, who stood near the buffet, ready to jump and wait on me, when I wished he'd go away and leave me alone.

"Will you be needing anything more, miss?" he asked, as if reading my thoughts.

"No, thank you, Curtis."

"Is there anything special you would like to order for your lunch and dinner?"

"Anything will do."

"Then I will tell the chef to prepare one of the usual Sunday menus . . ."

I didn't care what was served. Food, when it came on time and in sufficient amounts and always tasted delicious, wasn't the monumental affair that once it had been. Freshly squeezed orange juice was no longer a thrilling treat. Bananas or fresh strawberries on my cereal were to be expected. But it still thrilled me to see the truffles that Tony so adored sprinkled liberally on my omelettes.

In the library I stood for a long time at the windows, gazing out at the maze. The wind began to gust and make faint whistling sounds, sc.r.a.ping the tree branches against the house. Behind me was a roaring log fire, making cozy the library where I intended to spend the day . . if I couldn't find a way to visit Logan. He hadn't answered my letter, but I knew what dorm he lived in. Already I'd tested the garage door and found it locked. When his wife wasn't around, Cal Dennison had taught me how to drive.

It was Logan who should have run to me, and asked me to explain what happened between me and Cal Dennison. But no, he'd sped away in the rain, leaving me in the graveyard, not even giving me the chance to explain that Cal had felt like a father to me, the father I'd always wanted. And to keep him my father and my friend, I'd have done almost anything! Anything!

A thin curl of smoke spiraled into the air above the walls of the maze. Did that mean Troy was at the cottage today? Without further thought, I hurried toward the hall closet and pulled on my boots and a new warm coat. Furtively I let myself out the front door so none of the servants would report back to Tony that I had broken my word and deliberately set out to see his brother.

It was easy this time to wend my crooked way through the maze, but not so easy to step before his door and knock. Again he was reluctant to let me in, taking so everlastingly long I almost turned around and left. Then, suddenly, the door was open and he was there, not smiling to see me again, but looking at me sadly, as if he pitied someone doomed to do the wrong thing time and time again. "So you are back," he said, stepping aside and motioning for me to come in. "Tony a.s.sured me you would stay away."

"I have come to ask a favor," I said, embarra.s.sed by his indifference. "I need to drive into town today, and Tony has ordered Miles not to take me anywhere. If I might use your car . . ."

Already he was seated and beginning to work on small objects he had on his workbench. He threw me a look of surprise. "You, a sixteen-year-old, want to drive into Boston? Do you know the way? Do you have a driver's license? No, I think for your own safety and that of others, you should stay off of icy highways."

Oh, it did hurt to keep letting him believe I was only sixteen, when I was really seventeen! And I was a good driver, at least Cal had thought so. Back in Atlanta they had given girls my age driver's licenses. I sat down without an invitation, still wearing my coat, and tried not to cry. "They are fall cleaning in Farthy," I said in a small voice. "Getting ready for all the festivities coming up. Cleaning windows and sills, scrubbing and waxing floors, dusting and vacuuming, and even in the library where I planned to stay all day, the odors of ammonia seep under the door."

"It's called holiday cleaning at this time of the year," he informed me, looking up, and showing amus.e.m.e.nt. "I hate a house all torn to pieces as much as you do. One of the pleasures of having a small house like this is that there is no need for servants to invade my privacy. When I put something down it stays there until I pick it up again."

I cleared my throat, pulled myself together, and then approached the object of my visit again. "If you won't allow me to drive your car, would you be so kind as to drive me into town yourself?"

He was using a tiny screwdriver to fasten miniature legs to tiny bodies. How intense he was about his toymaking! "Why do you need to go into town?"

If I told him the truth, would he report it to Tony the minute he was back? I sat tense and considering as I studied his face. It was one of the most sensitive faces I'd ever seen. And from all past experiences, only those completely insensitive were cruel. "I have a confession, Troy. I am very lonely. I have no one to share in my successes but Tony. Jillian doesn't care what I do, or don't do. There is a friend of mine who attends Boston University that I would like to visit."

Again he glanced my way, appearing guarded, as if somehow I was getting to him, and he didn't want that to happen. "Can't you wait until some other day, when you are in Winterhaven? B.U. isn't so far from there."

"But I need to see someone who understands me! Someone who remembers the way it used to be with me."

He didn't say anything, just sat thoughtfully while the light snow drifted by his wide windows. Then he smiled. The smile lit up his dark eyes and made them glow.

"All right, I will drive you where you want to go, but give me a half hour to finish up what I'm doing, and then we'll be on our way--and I won't tell Tony that you are breaking one of his rules."

"He told you?"

"Yes, of course he told me he forbade you to visit me. And I am not welcome to visit Farthy much, because of Jillian."

"Jillian doesn't like you?" I asked, thinking she had to be crazy not to like someone as fine as Troy.

"I used to care a great deal about what Jillian thought of me, then I found out that no one really knows what goes on in Jillian's head. I don't even know if she's capable of loving anything as much as she loves her image. But she is clever. Never underestimate her cleverness."

I was stunned, and yet he had made so much clear. "But why doesn't Tony want you and me to become friends?"

He gave me a wry, self-mocking grin. "My brother thinks I am a bad influence on anyone who grows too fond of me, and of course, I am. So don't grow too fond of me, Heavenly."

My heart seemed to skip a beat when he called me Heavenly as Tom had always done.

"Oh, you are much too old for me to grow fond of!" I cried with happiness in my voice. "I'm going to dash back to the house and change my clothes!"

Before he could speak again and perhaps change his mind, I was out the door and racing through the maze back to the big house. The roar of cleaning machines inside disguised my footfalls as I darted up the stairs. In my room I quickly changed into what I thought were my most becoming clothes. I touched my nose with face powder, added lipstick, and sprayed on perfume. Now I was ready to meet Logan Stonewall. Not once in the whole time he'd known me had he seen me dressed as I was now.

Troy took no notice whatsoever of what I wore. He drove his Porsche with a casual ease, seldom speaking, but I had lost my shyness and was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with happiness. I was on my way to Logan. Despite his disappointment in me, he'd forgive and forget, and remember only the sweetness of our young romance, when we walked in the hills and swam together in the river and shared so many plans for our future together.

It was only when we reached the entrance to B.U. that Troy spoke: "I am presuming this friend is male, right?"

Startled, I glanced at him. "Why presume that?" "Your clothes, the perfume, and the lipstick."

"I didn't think you noticed."

"I'm not blind."

"His name is Logan Stonewall," I confessed. "He's studying to be a pharmacologist because that will please his father most, but what he really wants to be is a biochemist."

"I hope he knows you are on your way to meet him."

My heart lurched again, for Logan didn't know.

As chance and good luck would have it, we no sooner pulled to a stop in front of his dorm than I saw Logan sauntering by with two other fellows his age. I hurried out of the car, not wanting to lose sight of him.

"Thank you for driving me here!" I called back through the window. "You can drive on home; I'm sure Logan will drive me back."

"Does he own a car? He was walking."

"I don't know."

"Then I'll hang around and wait until I am sure you have a way to get home again." He nodded toward a small coffee shop. "I'll be in there. As soon as you know he'll drive you back, let me know."

Troy headed for the coffee shop, and I strolled in Logan's direction, hoping to surprise him and delight him with the way I looked now. He went into the drugstore across the street to make a purchase. I watched him pay for it, not knowing now quite what to do. He was just the same, standing tall and straight, with his broad shoulders squared, not turning to stare at every girl who pa.s.sed, and a great many pa.s.sed. He accepted his purchase, then headed for a side door that would let him outside.

"Logan!" I cried, running forward slightly. "Don't go! I need to talk to you."

He turned to look my way, and I swear to G.o.d he didn't know me! He looked at me and through me, and a look of annoyance was in his sapphire eyes. Perhaps it was my shorter, smarter hairstyle and the makeup I'd learned to apply with skill, or perhaps it was the beaver coat Jillian had given me that made his eyes scan over me twice without knowing who I was.

And before I could decide just what to do, he had the side door open, letting in the strong wind that ruffled the magazine covers, and then he was outside in the snow, walking so fast I knew I'd never be able to catch him. And maybe he'd only pretended he didn't recognize me.

Like the fool that I often was, I went to the counter at the drugstore and ordered a cup of hot chocolate. I took my time sipping the steaming brew and nibbling on two vanilla wafers. Only when I thought enough time had pa.s.sed for me to have had a long and serious talk did I pay my check and prepare to leave.

It was nice the way Troy immediately jumped to his feet and broadly smiled at me. "You took forever. I was beginning to believe this man from your past was going to drive you home after all."

He pulled a small chair for me, helped me off with my fur, then sat me down. "It would have been nice if you had brought him over and introduced me."

My head bowed. "Logan Stonewall is from Winnerrow, and your brother has ordered me to have no contacts with any of my old friends."

"I am not my brother. I would like very much to know your friends."

"Oh, Troy," I half sobbed, bowing my head and really beginning to cry, "Logan stared straight at me. He had the nerve to pretend not to even know me! He looked me squarely in the eyes and then he turned and walked away."

His voice came softly and kindly as he reached for my gloved hands and held them in his. "Heaven, has it occurred to you that you have changed a great deal? You are not the same girl who arrived here in early October. You have had your hair styled differently. You wear makeup now and you didn't then. And those high-heeled boots you wear add a few inches to your height. And Logan may have had other thoughts on his mind, other than meeting an old girlfriend."

"Here," he said, pulling out a clean, white handkerchief and handing it to me. "And when you've finished crying--soon, I hope, for I hate seeing a woman cry--then perhaps you can tell me more about Logan."

When I had dried my tears and put his handkerchief in my purse, intending to wash and iron it later, another cup of hot chocolate had arrived. I saw so much kindness and understanding in Troy's eyes that before I knew what I was doing, I was telling him everything, right from the very beginning, when Logan had seen me in his father's pharmacy, and f.a.n.n.y had been sure he was admiring her, not me; then how we met in the Winnerrow schoolyard; how he insisted on buying lunch for four starving Casteel children. "And when he became my regular boyfriend and walked me home from school, I was the happiest girl in the world. He wasn't like the wild boys who hung around f.a.n.n.y. He was the most different boy I'd met, decent and never fresh. We were planning to be married as soon as we finished college--and now he doesn't know me." My voice rose in slight hysteria. "And it took so much nerve to do what I did. Did I overdo it, Troy? Am I too overwhelming in Jillian's beaver coat, and wearing so much jewelry?"

"You look beautiful," he said softly, reaching to take both of my hands in his. "Now let's put today in perspective. Logan didn't expect to see you, did he? You were here, out of the element he'd grown accustomed to seeing you in. Nor did he expect to see you dressed as you are. So give him a telephone call later on, and tell him what happened. Then you two can plan a meeting, and you'll both be ready for each other."

"He won't forgive me! He'll never forgive me!" I sobbed, hotly and pa.s.sionately. "For I haven't told you everything. When Pa sold all five of his kids to strangers for five hundred dollars apiece, something bad happened to me. First Keith and Our Jane were bought by a lawyer and his wife. Then f.a.n.n.y was sold to Reverend Wayland Wise, and unlike Keith and Our Jane, f.a.n.n.y was delighted to be sold to such a wealthy man. Then a burly farmer named Buck Henry showed up at our place, and he went straight to Tom and felt him over like he was an animal. Pa and Buck Henry dragged Tom away.

"I was sold to Kitty and Cal Dennison in Candlewick, Georgia. Their house in Candlewick was the nicest, cleanest house I'd ever been in before, and there was always plenty to eat. But Kitty wanted a kitchen slave, a housekeeper to keep everything spotless while she ran her beauty shop. She worked five days a week there, and on Sat.u.r.days she taught a ceramics cla.s.s, and that meant Cal saw more of me than he did of Kitty. Oh, it was complicated, for I used to think Cal was twice the man Pa could ever be. I began to think of Cal as my own father, the kind I'd always wanted and needed. He was someone who saw me, liked me, needed me. When he bought me new clothes, new shoes, and a lot of little things I didn't even know I needed, I'd sometimes go to bed hugging those dresses to my heart.

Like a river undammed, started by my tears, my story gushed forth in full, horrible detail. I think the only area I left clouded was the exact year of my birth, and somehow, long before my tale was told, I knew Troy had forgotten his plans for today, and soon we were headed for the road that took us back to Farthinggale Manor. Under the high, arching iron gates he drove, closing them with his automatic control. Then on a road I'd never noticed before, he wended his way toward his stone cottage. The gray autumn afternoon touched me with sweet melancholy for the hills, for the innocent and trusting girl I used to be.

Not a word did Troy speak until we were both in his cottage, and he had his fire renewed and burning brightly. Then he said his meal would be ready in a jiffy. "The chef from the big house keeps my larder full," he said, as he began to ready a snack. It was four o'clock by this time, and I'd already missed lunch. I didn't doubt for one moment that that would be reported to Tony by Percy.

"Go on, don't stop," he urged, handing me a chopping board with raw vegetables to slice. "I have never heard anything like your story before. Now tell me more about Keith and Our Jane."

Only then did I realize I should have held on to caution and been more discreet, but it was too late, much too late. But what did I care about anything now that Logan had cut me out of his life? I had already told Troy every last thing about the Christmas Day when Pa began to sell us off one by one, repeating it all again because he had to hear it twice in order to believe it. I was even careless enough to let out the reason Logan didn't trust me anymore, and not once did Troy look my way, or comment, or hesitate in what he was doing.

"I didn't know that those trips to the movies, and those wonderful dinners in fine restaurants, and all the gifts he gave me were part of Cal's seduction. I grew more and more dependent on him. He gave me my best times when I lived there, and Kitty gave me my worst times. I used to pity Cal when every night she'd find one reason or another to say 'no' to him, and when she finally did agree to accept his advances, he'd come to the breakfast table looking so happy. I wanted him to look happy all of the time. And when he began to touch me too often, with odd lights in his eyes, and his kisses became not so fatherly, I'd lie on my bed at night and wonder just what kind of signals I was subconsciously sending out. I never blamed him. I kept right on blaming myself for putting wicked ideas in his head. How could I hold on to him as a father figure, and not submit to what he wanted to do?"

I paused, gasped for more breath, then went on.