Skeleton Key(5)

“Well,” Bennis Hannaford said, “of course, you’re entitled to your opinion. But Abigail will be very disappointed.”

“Abigail will not be disappointed,” Margaret said. “The decision is not, as it happens, up to me. It’s up to my daughter. Have you met my daughter?”

“Once or twice. I saw her picture in Town and Country.”

“Quite. I was debutante of the year when I came out, too. Not that it’s an official designation. Did you—?”

“At the Assemblies.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I should have known. Your mother was presented at the Assemblies. Kayla is of a different mind about almost everything from me. I think she’s only coming out because she had to postpone college for a year and she has nothing else to do. Kayla is very interested in Abigail’s project, and of course Kayla is the one who owns Julia Anson’s paintings. Kayla is the one who owns everything, including this house. The papers aren’t exaggerating when they say she was Robert’s only heir.”

“I thought that sort of thing could be set aside,” Bennis said. “If you went to court about it and worked it out with a judge.”

“I’m of a generation that does not resort to courtrooms except from necessity, and there is no necessity. I’m not destitute. I’m merely very angry. Does that surprise you?”

“No,” Bennis said.

“Good.” Margaret stood up. “Kayla’s gone to Waterbury to buy a few things. She’s put you in the front guest room that looks over the porte cochere. I’ve always thought it was very noisy there, but Kayla likes the view.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Kayla can show you the paintings tomorrow, if you want to see them. Or she can give Abigail a call and arrange a meeting in Philadelphia. She has some papers, too, diaries and address books that belonged to Julia Anson. I’m sure it will all come in for good use when Abigail gets hold of it. From what I’ve seen, however, the diaries are rather explicit.”

“I don’t think Abigail wants to do anything explicit”

“There will be a publisher out there who does. Did I tell you that one of the reasons that Kayla is so excited about this project is that she thinks she can talk someone into letting her write a book? Kayla is very ambitious. And very bright, I might add. She’s much more like her father than she ever has been like me.”

“Oh,” Bennis said.

“I’m going to go to bed now. I’m very tired.”

“Oh,” Bennis said again.

Margaret waited. A woman of her own generation would have made a protest, or looked angry, or given some indication that this sort of behavior was highly irregular. Bennis Hannaford did none of these things. She simply sat where she was, holding a demitasse cup and looking polite.

Margaret inclined her head, turned away, and went out of the living room into the hall. She paused at the bottom of the stairs to see if she could hear Bennis getting up to move around, but it didn’t happen. She went up the stairs slowly, making sure to let them creak. This house was over two hundred years old at its core, and over a hundred at least in both its extensions. It was the oldest and most historically important house in all of Litchfield County. Margaret had picked it out when she was pregnant with Kayla, at a time when Robert was disposed to give her anything she asked for. Later, he made no secret of the fact that he hated the place without reservation. The rooms were small. The floors creaked. The walls bulged in odd places, even after thousands of dollars had been spent to make them straight.

Actually, Margaret thought, as she came to the top of the stairs and paused again—there were still no sounds coming from the living room—there was still no indication that Bennis Hannaford had gotten off her chair and started to snoop. Actually, the real problem was that Robert had hated her without reservation, as she had come to hate him. They had had year after year of each other, and year after year of angry sex, and the point of it all had never been anything but Kayla. If it hadn’t been for Kayla, they would have been divorced and gotten it over with. If it hadn’t been for Kayla, they would have seen nothing of each other at all.

Margaret had a very distinct memory of sitting up in bed next to Robert sleeping, right here in the master bedroom of this house. She sat there and stared down at his neck, wondering what it would be like to get her hands around the bones there. She imagined the bones breaking, fragile and small, like bird bones in a stone vise. Then she blinked, and the face on the body beside her changed. It was Kayla’s face, wide awake, laughing at her so hard that tears streamed out of the corners of her eyes. Then the face changed to Robert’s again, the features thickened with age and wrong experience. Margaret got up and went into the master bathroom and closed the door.