In the Shadow of Lakecrest(54)

Looking irritatingly self-satisfied, she told me how Matthew and she had arranged the visit in secret. As if I’d find it charming. I knew the real reason she hadn’t told me she was coming: she knew I’d find a way to stop her.

Gerta came in with a pitcher of lemonade and a platter of tea cakes. Ma took four and began popping them in her mouth whole. Hannah allowed herself a brief scowl of disapproval, and Marjorie, amused, leaned forward.

“Is this your first visit to Chicago?” she asked.

“Yes, it is. My responsibilities to the Fosters leave precious little time for travel.”

“The Fosters?” Marjorie asked.

“Mr. Joseph Foster, my employer, and his widowed mother.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Hannah looked as if she felt sick. Ma, with her usual disregard for social graces, went on to make things worse. “I do appreciate the money you’ve sent, but it’s not enough for a poor widow to build up a nest egg. Besides, the Fosters are practically family. The old dear depends on me utterly.”

How proud she looked, how unaware of the Lemonts’ disdain. It was one thing for Matthew to marry a girl with no money, but quite another for her mother to still be working as a servant. If only they knew the rest of the story: that Ma shared Mr. Foster’s bed. That she was hoping he’d marry her after the death of his mother (the “old dear” she usually referred to as the “old bitch”).

To my enormous relief, Alice stepped into the room and asked to speak to Hannah. I took the interruption as an opportunity to change the subject and began asking Ma about her trip. Not long after, Hannah came over, looking concerned.

“There seems to have been a mix-up at the station,” she said. “The trunk your mother brought is labeled O’Meara, not Moore.”

Ma raised her eyebrows at me: Shall I handle this, or you? I felt my face flush.

“It’s my trunk, all right,” Ma said, perfectly serene. “O’Meara was my married name, but I don’t need to tell you how some people can be close-minded when it comes to the Irish. As soon as my Katie started school, I changed our name to Moore. I didn’t want anyone to think she was good for nothing more than scrubbing floors or taking in laundry.”

And just like that, a subject I’d avoided and fretted over—my real name—was dealt with and discarded. Swiftly, expertly, Ma chattered on about her struggles to raise an honest girl in an evil world. It was all so noble and inspiring that she even managed to dredge up a few genuine tears.

“She’s a good girl, my Katie.” A sentimental shake of her head, a dreamy-eyed expression. “One in a million.”

“That’s exactly how I feel,” Matthew said.

Ma’s story was a pack of lies, but I realized with a jolt that her feelings were real. I was the culmination of all her dreams. Matthew looked at me adoringly: his charity project, the deserving youngster he had saved from poverty. Marrying me made him feel like a better man.

“It’s lovely to see how much pride you take in your daughter,” Marjorie said. “So many children are a great disappointment to their parents.”

Ma was the only one who didn’t notice the sly insult to Hannah. “Oh, I’ve known Katie was special ever since she was a little girl. That’s why I scrimped and saved to send her to St. Anne’s. Get her mixing with the right people. At college, she was rushed by all the best sororities.”

“Mother, please . . .”

“Had her choice of dates to the dances,” Ma went on, oblivious to my embarrassment. “We had some good laughs about it, didn’t we, Katie? Who’d have believed my little angel would be courted by someone like Randall Bigelow?”

No, no, I had to make her stop. But how, when I felt too nauseous to speak? Hannah looked thoughtful, as if she were trying to place the name. Maybe she knew his family. All rich people met eventually, at one summer resort or another.

“Randall Bigelow?” Matthew asked me with a grin. “Should I be jealous?”

I took a deep breath, calmed my breathing. “You can’t expect me to keep all my admirers straight,” I said lightly. “There were too many to count!”

Matthew laughed along with me, and even Marjorie joined in. Not Hannah. She knew something was wrong.

“What room will Mother be staying in?” I asked her.

“The Yellow Room.”

“You’ll love it,” I said, grabbing Ma’s hand. “Why don’t I take you up and show you around?”

Ma followed eagerly; I knew she was dying to get a look at the rest of the house. I waited until we were upstairs, with the door closed, before letting loose.

“What were you thinking, coming here with no warning?”

Ma pretended to look contrite. “It was Matthew’s idea. He sent the money for my fare and begged me to come. He said you needed cheering up, though I can’t imagine why.”

I sat down on the bed and ran my palms over the silk coverlet. I tried to see Lakecrest through Ma’s eyes. How all this luxury must dazzle her! No wonder she was confused by my unhappiness.

So I laid it all out, telling her about Hannah’s suspicious watchfulness and Marjorie’s jealousy, about Cecily and the strange hold she still had over the family. How every time Hannah smiled at me, I worried she was planning to drive Matthew and me apart.