Second Child Part 10

A few minutes later Melissa emerged from the dressing room and once again stared at herself in the mirror.

The shirt seemed baggy on her, while the shorts stretched too tightly over her hips, making her look even plumper than she already was. Teri, reading her eyes, turned to the clerk.

"Don't you have something with pleats?" she asked.

Twenty minutes later, over Melissa's objections, Teri added a pair of white shorts, two of the polo shirts, a bright red bathing suit, and the jogging outfit to the pile of clothes already on the counter.

"Can I charge it?" she asked. "I'm Teri MacIver-Mr. Holloway is my father."

The clerk smiled. "Of course," she said. "Mrs. Holloway called this morning-she said you're to have anything you want."

Teri stared at the pile of clothes, then her eyes wandered to a tennis outfit she'd looked at earlier. Finally, seeing Melissa's eyes bulge as she read the total on the cash register, she shook her head. "I guess that's all," she said. The clerk wrote up a charge slip for the clothes and handed it to Teri along with a pen.

Teri gazed at the figure at the bottom of the slip. Together with what she'd bought at Corky's, the total came to more than three thousand dollars. For just a fraction of a second she thought of the two hundred dollars she'd had to spend on school clothes the year before.

But that was a long time ago, she told herself, putting the thought out of her mind.

With a feeling of intense pleasure, she took the pen from the clerk and scrawled her signature across the bottom of the charge slip.

Phyllis Holloway glared at her husband, her eyes glittering with anger. "But isn't that what we have lawyers for?" she demanded.

Charles removed his reading gla.s.ses and pressed the thumb and forefinger of his right hand against the bridge of his nose, partly in an effort to relieve the headache that was growing along with the argument with his wife, and partly to give himself a moment's respite from that same argument. Finally he sighed, put his gla.s.ses back on, and picked up a stack of papers from his desk. "I've already told you-it's a simple matter, and I can take care of it myself. I suppose I could could call a firm in L.A. to handle it, but why bother? I am, after all, a lawyer myself-" call a firm in L.A. to handle it, but why bother? I am, after all, a lawyer myself-"

"Oh, come on," Phyllis sniffed. "You haven't practiced a day in your life, and you know it."

Charles's jaw tightened, and, not for the first time, he wondered why he stayed with Phyllis. He couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken an affectionate word to him-at least when they were alone. Of course, in public, she was the image of the loving wife. She never failed to stay close to him when they were out together, never let an evening go by without telling whomever they were with about her wonderful husband.

But it was all an act, for when they were alone together, she rarely spoke to him at all, except to complain about one thing or another-if it wasn't one of Cora's shortcomings, or Melissa's, it was usually one of his own.

Had she always been like this?

He didn't know, for when he'd first met her, when his relationship with Polly was already breaking up, she'd seemed perfect.

Bright and vivacious, she'd been like none of the girls he'd grown up with, certainly nothing at all like Polly. Where Polly had had a natural sense of reserve, Phyllis had seemed a free spirit, doting on his daughter but always ready to take time to chat with him. And after Polly had left, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to come together, both of them mourning the loss of Teri.

When Phyllis had become pregnant, he'd been more than pleased to marry her. And for the first six months, until Melissa was born, everything had been fine. Then everything changed. Indeed, it had changed from the first moment Phyllis had seen her daughter. She'd looked down into Melissa's tiny face, framed by wisps of brown hair, and her eyes had filled with tears.

"She was supposed to be blond," Phyllis had said, looking up at Charles. "I wanted her to be just like Teri."

Charles had picked up the baby, snuggling her close to his chest and kissing her forehead. "But she can't be just like Teri," he'd protested. "Teri was Polly's daughter. Missy is ours."

Phyllis had said nothing more, at least not directly. But over the years, Charles had always known that for her, Melissa never measured up to the standards set by Teri.

Nor, apparently, had he met her expectations as a husband.

On the other hand, almost from the moment he'd married her, Phyllis had changed.

Her effervescence had vanished, and now Charles sometimes wondered if it had ever been there in the first place, or if he'd simply imagined it, the desire acting as father to the thought.

Within a year Phyllis had transformed herself from the pretty, if not quite beautiful, young nurse from Philadelphia, into her own version of a woman born into the Crowd.

The Secret Cove Crowd.

She shopped at all the right stores and wore all the right clothes.

In New York, where they spent most of the year, she went to all the right restaurants and served on all the right committees.

When, that is, she was invited to serve on the committees, which, though he'd never told her and never would, was only after he himself had a few words with the other women's husbands in the privacy of one of their clubs.

But although she wore the right clothes and went to the right places, she somehow had never quite fit in.

Charles, of course, understood it perfectly-with the Secret Cove Crowd, you didn't simply fit in.

You were born in.

And Phyllis hadn't been.

But she'd never stopped trying to find herself a place in the Crowd, never stopped trying to become the woman his first wife had been.

Nor had she understood that one of the reasons he'd married her was that she wasn't wasn't Polly. Polly.

Still, the marriage had endured, for Charles had long ago decided that he could tolerate any amount of unhappiness in his marriage, as long as it meant he had Melissa with him.

For Melissa, to Charles, was perfect.

If she had any shortcomings, he didn't see them, or chose to overlook them. He found his daughter's almost painful shyness to be an endearing quality, and if she didn't fit in well with the other kids in the Crowd, that was all right with him.

Despite what his wife thought, his private opinion was that Melissa wasn't missing much. He was sure she would learn a lot more from the books she devoured than from listening to the idle chatter of a lot of kids with nothing to do except feel sn.o.bbish about their families.

So he tolerated the marriage, rather than risk losing Melissa as he'd lost Teri. But sometimes-times like today-it was not easy.

"But it's so thoughtless thoughtless of you," he heard Phyllis complaining. "We've been invited to dinner at the Stevenses' day after tomorrow, and now you want me to cancel at the last minute, just so you can fly out to California." of you," he heard Phyllis complaining. "We've been invited to dinner at the Stevenses' day after tomorrow, and now you want me to cancel at the last minute, just so you can fly out to California."

"You hardly have to cancel," Charles observed. "It's not formal, and you know as well as I do that Eleanor always has extra men around. I don't know where she finds them, but they're always there."

Phyllis's eyes blazed with anger. "So now you don't care who I go out with?"

A movement outside the window caught Charles's eye, and he saw Teri and Melissa walking up the driveway, their arms filled with boxes. "Look," he said, "can't we deal with this some other time? The girls are coming in, and-"

"No, we can't!" Phyllis shouted. "How dare you? Do you know how hard I've had to work to get that invitation from Eleanor Stevens? Do you know who's going to be there? The governor, that's who! And I do not intend to go either by myself or on the arm of one of Eleanor's prissy decorators! If I'd known how much trouble all this was going to be-"

Suddenly Charles had enough. His fist slammed down on the table and his eyes fixed darkly on his wife. "That's it!" he exclaimed. "Look! All this isn't my fault-I didn't didn't plan on Teri coming to live with us any more than you did! But she's here, and the least we can both do is make the best of it. And I'm not just her father, in case you didn't know. I'm also the trustee of her estate." plan on Teri coming to live with us any more than you did! But she's here, and the least we can both do is make the best of it. And I'm not just her father, in case you didn't know. I'm also the trustee of her estate."

"Estate!" Phyllis fairly spat. "My G.o.d, everyone knows Polly gave away every cent she had. There isn't any estate!"

"There's actually more than you might think. Tom had some insurance, and the house itself was worth a quarter of a million."

Phyllis's lips curled into a sneer. "In California that only buys a slum, doesn't it?"

Exhausted by the argument, Charles shook his head. "All right," he said. "Do what you want. Go to the party alone or go with someone else. Or don't go at all. But I have an obligation to Teri, and I intend to carry it out. So just drop it, all right? It doesn't matter what you think-I'm flying to Los Angeles tomorrow."

Phyllis opened her mouth as if to carry on the argument, but changed her mind when she saw the look in her husband's eyes. She knew there was a point beyond which she shouldn't push him. But still, the idea of having to show up at the Stevenses' alone, feeling everyone watching her, and wondering if Charles was really away on business or had simply not wanted to come...

They might even think he'd found another woman and was getting ready to leave her.

No, better not to go at all than risk what the gossip might be.

Silently, she turned her back on her husband and walked out of the room, not noticing the look of relief that came over his face as she left.

At the foot of the stairs Teri heard the last few words of the argument between her father and her stepmother, and a flash of anger burned in her mind.

An obligation?

Was that all she was to her father? Just someone he had to deal with because she was his daughter?

Then she felt Melissa's eyes on her and heard her half sister's voice, soft and sympathetic. "He didn't mean that," Melissa was saying. "It was just a fight with Mom. It-It happens all the time."

Teri carefully took control of the anger within her, and when she turned to face Melissa, her eyes were damp and her chin quivered slightly. "It's all right," she breathed. "I-I just hope someday he'll learn to love me as much as he loves you, that's all."

Melissa impulsively dropped the boxes she was holding and threw her arms around Teri. "He will," she promised. "I know he will. He'll love you just as much as I do."

Teri accepted the embrace in silence.

"I don't see why we don't use the club on days like this," Phyllis said. It was the middle of the afternoon, and she sat in the shade of an umbrella next to the pool. A few feet away Charles was sprawled on his back on a chaise longue, reading yesterday's Wall Street Journal. Wall Street Journal. Teri was stretched out in the sun, while Melissa swam up and down the pool in a vain attempt to exercise off enough pounds to make her new bathing suit fit her properly. Teri was stretched out in the sun, while Melissa swam up and down the pool in a vain attempt to exercise off enough pounds to make her new bathing suit fit her properly.

She hadn't wanted to wear it at all, but Teri had insisted that it looked fine, and when she'd finally worked up her courage to leave the pool house, her mother had agreed with Teri. "It's so nice to see you wearing some color for a change. And if you could just lose five pounds-"

"She looks fine just the way she is," Charles had interrupted, but the remark had already sunk in, and ever since then Melissa had been in the pool, valiantly attempting to achieve at least fifty laps.

"Did you hear me, Charles?" Phyllis asked.

Charles nodded absently. "What's the point? Our own pool's almost as big as theirs, and not nearly as crowded."

"But all our friends are there," Phyllis went on. "It seems as though we never see anyone."

Charles put the paper down. "If you want to go, you're certainly welcome to. I just can't see putting up with that mob."

The phone in the pool house rang, and he stood up, but Phyllis stopped him. "Let Cora get it," she said. "Lord knows, it's not as if she does much anymore. I think we're going to have to start thinking about getting someone else, Charles. I know how-"

This time it was her own words that were interrupted as Cora herself stepped out the back door and called across the lawn.

"For you, ma'am. Mrs. Van Arsdale."

Instantly, Phyllis left her chair and hurried into the pool house, where she picked up the phone. "Yes, Lenore?"

"h.e.l.lo, Phyllis." Lenore Van Arsdale's voice came over the line with a cool tone of confidence that Phyllis had never been able to master. "The most awful thing has happened, and I do hope you'll forgive me."

Phyllis held her breath, certain she was about to be told she would be replaced on the Social Committee.

"I suppose you know Brett's having some of his friends for a bonfire on the beach tomorrow night?"

Phyllis's jaw tightened. No, she certainly didn't know any such thing. "Why, yes," she said, as casually as she could. "I think I heard one of the girls mention it."

"Well, I've just discovered that somehow Melissa's name got left off the invitation list. I know it's short notice, but is it too late to invite her? And, of course, Brett would love to have Teri come, too."

Suddenly Phyllis understood. It wasn't Melissa who was being invited at all.

It was Teri.

She'd barely met the kids, but already they were taking her in, including her in their group.

Almost involuntarily her eyes went to the window. Teri was sitting up now, listening to Melissa, who was squatting on the terrace at her half sister's feet, like an over-grown puppy dog, her hair, still soaking wet, hanging limply down her back. Dear G.o.d, Phyllis thought, why can't she even learn to sit like a normal person? Does she have to squat down like a peasant? No wonder the Cove kids didn't want her around.

"I'm sure they'd both be delighted to come tomorrow night," she said into the phone. "And it's so kind of you to include Teri."

"I'm looking forward to seeing her again," Lenore replied. "I understand she's just like Polly."

They chatted on for a few more minutes, until Lenore finally pleaded other calls to make and hung up. But before she went back out to the pool, Phyllis found herself gazing once more through the window.

They were still together, side by side.

The daughter she'd always wanted, and the daughter she'd actually had.

But now, miraculously, Teri had come home to her, and perhaps things were finally going to work out the way she'd always hoped they would.

Unless Melissa ruined things for Teri, Phyllis thought, the same way she'd ruined things for her.

She stepped out into the bright sunlight, and as the two girls glanced up at her, she smiled. "You two," she announced, "have just been invited out tomorrow night."

Now Charles put his paper aside once more. "What's going on?"

"Brett's having a bonfire on the beach tomorrow night, and Lenore wants both our girls to go."

Teri's face lit up, but then her smile faltered as she heard her father's next words.

"Isn't it a little soon for her to start going to parties?" he asked worriedly.

Teri searched her mind for something to say, some way to argue with him, but then her stepmother came to her aid. "Apparently, Lenore Van Arsdale doesn't think so," she said. "And I can't say I do, either. It's not going to do Teri any good to sit around here with us. She has to start making her own friends."

Teri's eyes fixed on her father, who seemed to consider the matter forever before he finally nodded. "Well, I don't suppose it can do any harm." Then he turned to Melissa. "What do you think, Missy? Does it sound like fun?"

Melissa bit her lower lip, remembering her birthday party. The same kids who had been there would be at the bonfire tomorrow night.

The same kids who had all but ignored her on the beach yesterday.

"I-I don't know," she said finally, unwilling to tell her parents what she was thinking. "I-Well-"

Charles, sensing his daughter's nervousness, smiled at her encouragingly. "If you don't want to go, just say so," he told her. "Just because someone invites you, it doesn't mean you have to go."