“When are you thinking of going?” her mother asked her.
“I haven’t decided. February maybe, or March. The war’s only been over for a few weeks. We’ll see how it goes.” Lili would be a year old by then, and Bettina was going to take the nurse with her.
“I think it’s an excellent plan,” Augusta chimed in. “She’s never going to meet a husband here, locked up in this house. And no one’s entertaining these days.”
“They will now that the war is over,” Gwyneth added, and Bettina looked annoyed.
“I’m not looking for a husband, Grandma. Just a change of scene.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having both. A nice Englishman perhaps, or a Scot. Please God, no one French. Will you be going to London?”
“I might. I haven’t figured it out yet. Father, may I go?” She looked at her father imploringly, and he nodded. She wanted to get out of San Francisco for a while. She felt stifled in her life as a widow and a mother sequestered in her parents’ home. She was desperate to get out again.
“I don’t see why not, as long as you wait for things to calm down over there, and all the soldiers to muster out and go home. You wouldn’t want to be there now.” Bettina agreed. “I think it’s a very good plan. Just don’t stay too long.” He smiled at his oldest daughter. “It’s nice of the Margaux to have you. I’ve always liked them.”
Gwyneth reluctantly agreed, although she hated to lose her daughter and her grandchild even for a week, let alone several months. But it was obvious to all of them that a trip would do her good, and there was nothing better than Paris for a change of scene. What woman wouldn’t want to go there? Just thinking about it, there was a new spring in Bettina’s step as she ran up the stairs to her room after dinner, to work on her book. And even if it was a few months away, she could hardly wait for Paris.
Chapter 12
Andy startled everyone when he sent his mother an email saying he was bringing his girlfriend, Quinne MacDonald, with him when he came home for Christmas. He had mentioned it to Sybil casually over the summer, but she had forgotten all about it. And when she got the email from him, they were due to arrive in a few days.
They had plenty of room for her, and she was going to sleep with Andy anyway, but Sybil still wasn’t sure how it would work to have a stranger in their midst. Andy had told her before that he had explained the Butterfields to Quinne, but did she really understand that they were all existing at some kind of crossroads of time, and the Butterfields, however lively, were all actually dead? It was a real-life ghost story, based on psychic phenomena that none of them were able to explain. But Andy insisted she was fine with it and that they would all love her. Sybil hoped he was right.
Out of courtesy and concern, Sybil discussed it with Gwyneth, who was startled too. They never appeared when there were strangers afoot or if the Gregorys were entertaining guests or Blake’s business associates. The two families wanted to spend Christmas together. Gwyneth promised to discuss it with Bert, and got back to Sybil with his response, which had surprised her.
“He said it’s fine for us, as long as she can handle it and Andy has explained it to her. We can’t predict my mother of course, or Uncle Angus. That could go either way. She might not want to meet strangers or she may be curious about her.” She smiled at Sybil, who was relieved to have their permission for a guest staying at the house. It was still their home too, and the Gregorys treated it that way.
But when Sybil picked up Andy and Quinne at the airport, she was less sure it would work. Everything about Quinne MacDonald shrieked “modern woman.” She had several noticeable tattoos on her hands and arms and some kind of flower tattooed on her neck, and she was wearing knee-high lace-up military boots with a micro-mini leather skirt. She was a beautiful girl with a lovely face, a graceful figure, and electric blue hair. But she was well spoken and intelligent and had perfect manners, and Andy said she was an excellent student and wanted to go to medical school. She was from a very fancy family in Scotland, and her father was an earl. Sybil hoped that would carry some weight with Augusta and compensate for the blue hair, if Augusta appeared at all. Quinne had six tiny diamond studs in each ear but, fortunately, none in her nose. She had no facial piercings at all. Thinking of Augusta again, Sybil was grateful for that. As the Gregorys became closer to the Butterfields, Augusta had become their matriarch too.
Their conversation on the way to the house was easy and pleasant, and Quinne thanked Sybil very politely for allowing her to come. She admired the house as they drove into the courtyard, and looked at the Butterfield portraits with interest when they walked into the front hall. And then she turned to Sybil with a questioning look.
“So where are they?” she asked, referring to the members of the family in the portraits, with an expectant look.
“We usually meet them for dinner,” Sybil said quietly, although Gwyneth and Bettina often came to her rooms now, which worried Alicia.
She had noticed her employer talking to herself more and more in the past year, and thought she should be on medication. She thought it might be Tourette’s, which she had read about on the Internet. Charlie seemed to have it too. And Blake once in a while. They all did. They talked to themselves whenever they felt like it, and sometimes they even laughed for no reason. She thought it was very sad that they were mentally ill. They weren’t hurting anyone, but Alicia felt sorry for them anyway. And they dressed up like the Addams family for dinner. She’d see their evening clothes in their dressing rooms the next day. Sybil wore more evening gowns than an opera singer or a movie star. At first Alicia had wondered if they were vampires, which Alicia firmly believed in. It was all crazy behavior to her. Sybil had no idea the housekeeper was observing them so closely and coming to such dire conclusions.
“If you brought a nice dress with you, you could wear it tonight for dinner,” Sybil told Quinne. “We are not sure if they will appear or if you will be able to see them. But I mentioned you, and I think most of them will come to dinner. They’re quite formal. The men wear white tie and tails for dinner, but Andy’s dad usually wears black tie. Caroline and I try to wear evening gowns, or something long anyway. Caro wears short cocktail dresses too, although I warn you, Uncle Angus is a bit of a lech.” She sounded crazy even to herself as she said it, but Andy didn’t seem to mind, and nodded agreement with what she said. He had told Quinne pretty much the same thing himself.