Heavenstone 02 - Secret Whispers

Semantha. You don’t want an old guy like me weighing you down.”
    “You just said you were still young, Daddy.”
    “Young for my age, not for your age. Anyway . . .”
    “Who is the woman—your date, I mean? Have I ever met her?”
    “No. Her name is Lucille Bennet. She’s the daughter of Martin Spears, president of the Lexington Home Bank. Her husband passed away four years ago. Heart attack. They never had any children.”
    “How old is she?” I asked. Something in his voice told me I’d be surprised.
    “She’s just turned forty,” he said.
    She’s nearly twenty years younger than he is, I thought.
    “But,” he continued quickly, “you’d never know she was that young. I don’t mean she looks older. She’s quite young-looking and attractive, but she has the demeanor, personality, and wisdom of a woman at least twenty years older.”
    “How do you know if you haven’t been on a date with her?”
    It wasn’t like me to cross-examine my father about anything, ever. That was something Cassie had been good at doing and something he had tolerated her doing. There was no question in my mind that if Cassie were alive today, she would be at Lucille Bennet with a microscope. Maybe she had put the question in my mind. I was surprised at myself for asking.
    “Well, we have had occasion to see each other at events, and I did have lunch with her. Besides, I think you know how good a judge of character I am, Semantha,” he added with a trickle of annoyance. “I employ hundreds of people.”
    “Yes, Daddy, I do. I was just curious. I’m happy for you,” I said quickly.
    “Well, you let me know how your date goes and how things are, will you? Your uncle keeps threatening to pay you a visit, but I told him to let you be. You don’t have all that much longer to go, and we’ll be there for graduation. Am I right?”
    I wanted to say no, to say he should please come with Uncle Perry immediately, but I just said yes.
    “Good. Well, otherwise, things are going well at the stores and here at Heaven-stone. I’m very happy I hired Mrs. Dobson to run the house. She continues to do a fine job of it. She’s reliable and efficient.”
    During the first year I attended Collier, Daddy had decided to find someone who could not only prepare his meals but also oversee the care of the mansion. He had taken the recommendation of a business associate in London and hired Patsy Dobson, afifty-five-year-old widow who had been working in what she called “posh homes.” She had been between jobs and was excited about living and working in America. Daddy had made all the arrangements to get her over, and although she was nowhere near the gourmet cook my mother or Cassie had been, she was, in Daddy’s words, “quite capable of feeding a team of hungry lumberjacks.”
    Mrs. Dobson took firm control of the house and had gone through four different maids and maid services before settling on Doris Cross, a forty-five-year-old divorced mother of two sons who had married and lived far away, one in Texas and one in Oregon. Mrs. Dobson said Doris had the proper respect for antiquities and, like her, believed that dust was a sign of disrespect. I had to admit the house and everything in it had never looked better under Mother’s and Cassie’s care. I knew Daddy believed that, too, even though he never said it in so many words.
    “I’m glad, Daddy. She is very nice,” I said.
    I did like Mrs. Dobson. She was always pleasant to me whenever I was home for holidays and over the summer. Often, she was even quite funny, especially when she used some of her English expressions. She knew our family’s tragic history the way I had explained it to Ellie and nothing more. If she ever overheard anything, however, I was confident she would make herself forget it. Sometimes I felt she was treating us like British royals. She was continually after me to smile more and always called me Miss Semantha. Even Doris Cross had started calling me that.
    “You okay, Semantha? You sound a bit down. You’re not doing too much, are you?”
    “I’m fine, Daddy. Maybe I’m just a little homesick.”
    “Well, it’s not long now. Take care, and call if you need anything,” he said. “I’ve got to rush off to a meeting.”
    “ ’Bye, Daddy,” I said. Although he hung up, I held the receiver. I would have sworn I heard Cassie talking, as if she had picked up one of the phones at Heaven-stone and had been listening all the while.
    “She