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Not trusting her knees to hold her upright, Caroline sank down into the desk chair and stared at the phone as though it were her mortal enemy.
"Well?" Hilda urged impatiently. "Are you going to call him, or are you just going to sit there all day looking at the phone?"
"I'm not going to call him," Caroline said.
"Why?"
"Because I don't feel like it." Even in her present mood, it sounded to her own ears like a childish, stupid thing to say.
"Caroline," Hilda said firmly. "You have to understand. Your husband's a politician. You need to talk to him so he can give you whatever directions you need for handling yourself in this kind of situation."
"You mean like send one of his staffers out to bird-dog me and make sure I don't say or do something that could make matters worse?"
"Yes. Of course," Hilda returned mildly. There was another unspoken part to her mother's answer, the part about now that Caroline had made her bed, she would have to lie in it. And, of course, there was no need for Hilda to say it then because Hilda had said it so often, Caroline knew it by heart.
She felt her temper rising. The whole idea was absurd. Here was Caroline, an i
All her life Caroline had been a good girl. She'd done what she'd been told and tried her best to live up to other people's expectations. Last night she had broken into the kitchen and taken food. This time, instead of knuckling under to her mother's pressure, Caroline found the strength to fight back.
"What are we doing here, Mother?" she asked.
"Doing here?" Hilda repeated. "What do you mean by that?"
"You know what I mean."
"We've both been through so much the last few months," Hilda replied smoothly. "I thought a getaway to the spa would do us both a world of good. A time-out, as it were," she added.
"Like when you used to punish me by sending me to my room?"
"A little, I suppose," Hilda agreed. "Only with better food. Back then, you made mud pies. You could just as well have been taking mud baths," she added. "You were that messy most of the time."
"This isn't fu
"Why Douglas did, of course," Hilda answered. "You saw the check he wrote-twelve thousand dollars."
"If you own the place now, I'm sure we could have come for free."
Hilda shrugged. "Maybe we did-come for free, that is. In fact, Claudia invited us to come, both of us. Douglas gave me his check to pay for it, and I did cash it, but I can tell you Claudia de Vries never saw a pe
"What do you mean?" Caroline asked.
"Go upstairs and look in your closet," Hilda ordered.
"In the closet?"
"Yes," Hilda replied. "It came this morning. UPS delivered it to the office while we were all preoccupied with what had happened to Claudia. It was heavy, so I had the deliveryman carry it upstairs."
Without saying anything more, Caroline fled up the stairs and threw open the door to the closet. Inside, her clothing had all been shoved aside in order to make room for an enormous box. As soon as she saw the size of it, she knew what it had to be. Still, not trusting her own judgment, Caroline went into the bathroom and retrieved the fingernail shears she carried in her overnight bag. Then she rushed back to the closet. It took her several minutes to chop her way through layers of protective cardboard and plastic bubble wrap, but as soon as she saw the black case she recognized it for what it was-a cello. And not just any cello. It had to be her own cello. She recognized the worn but familiar case. She placed the case on her bed and then opened it to reveal the beautifully finished instrument inside. Tears of gratitude sprang to her eyes as she caressed the familiar lines and curves and ran her fingers across strings Caroline knew almost as well as she knew her own body. Somehow her mother had returned it to her.
Leaving the instrument lying on the bed, Caroline made her way back down the stairs. "Where did you get it?" she asked in a hollow voice.
"I remembered the name of the woman who had bought it from you," Hilda answered. "All I had to do was track her down. I offered to buy it back for four thousand dollars more than she paid you for it. Believe me, she was more than happy to make a deal. Who wouldn't be? And there went Douglas's twelve thousand dollars. Money well spent, if you ask me."
Caroline was stu
"Giving up everything that's yours for a man like that-a man with that kind of power-is an entirely stupid thing to do," Hilda returned. "Surely you're not really that naive, are you?"
Even though Caroline had called herself "stupid" not an hour or so earlier, it hurt to hear her mother say the same thing. Under other circumstances she might have been overjoyed to see her beloved cello once more. Now she was overwhelmed. She bit back the tears that still threatened to wash her away.
"I have no idea what you mean," she said, still playing the game, still pretending that things were all right between her and Douglas when they were anything but.
"Maybe you should take a look at this, then." Lifting the envelope from her lap, Hilda held it out. Caroline looked at it but made no attempt to take it.
"What is it?" she asked. Her voice sounded wooden. There was an ache in Caroline Blessing's heart. She knew that whatever was in the envelope was going to be bad news, and she didn't want to touch it.
"Surveillance reports," Hilda answered. "From a private detective."
"Surveillance reports on whom?" Caroline asked.
"On Douglas, of course. Who else? Names, places, dates, times. I thought you should know all these things. And I thought you should have some idea which of your friends aren't friends at all. That's always useful information to have, to know where you stand. When it comes to this sort of thing, a woman can't afford to have too many surprises, especially in this day and age."
"You've been spying on Douglas?" Caroline managed to stammer.
"Spying's too strong a word," Hilda returned mildly. "I prefer to think of it as checking up on him. And it's a good thing I did, too. Your father certainly wouldn't have considered doing such a thing, although, in my opinion that's something fathers are supposed to do-protect their daughters. Now take it," she urged. "Even if you don't want to look at it, I still want you to have it now, before it's too late."
Caroline reached out and took the envelope. The paper should have been cool to the touch, but it wasn't. The surface of the envelope seemed to sear her skin. She held it for a moment, and then it slipped through her reluctant fingers and dropped to the floor.
"I don't want it," she said. "I don't want to know. I already told Douglas I want a divorce. I don't need to know any of the rest of it."
"You may think you don't want to know, but if you don't take this envelope and put it away, the rest of the world is going to find out all about it."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, Caroline, please don't be so incredibly dim," Hilda returned. "Why do you think I refused to talk to the detective today?"
"You said you had a spa to run."