“Oh… what are you doing here?” Hortie said as though Annabelle didn’t belong there. And then she tried to cover the awkward moment with a nervous smile. Consuelo was frowning, looking at her. Hortie hadn’t even noticed her, she was just staring at her mother as if she’d seen a ghost.

“I’m here with my daughter for a visit.” Annabelle smiled at Hortie, feeling sorry for her. “I see the baby factory is still producing,” she teased her. Hortie rolled her eyes and groaned, and for an instant looked like the friend Annabelle had loved so dearly, and would never have abandoned.

“You’re remarried?” Hortie asked with interest, and then glanced at Consuelo.

“Widowed.”

“And she’s a doctor,” Consuelo piped up proudly, as both women laughed.

“Is that true?” Hortie looked at Annabelle, impressed if it was, but she knew that Annabelle had loved medical things as a young girl.

“It is. We live in Paris.”

“So I heard. I was told you were some kind of hero during the war.”

Annabelle laughed. “Hardly. I was a medic, riding ambulances to field hospitals to pick up wounded men. Nothing very heroic about that.”

“It sounds heroic to me,” Hortie said as her gaggle of children swirled around her, and the nanny tried to keep them in control with little success. Hortie didn’t apologize for the betrayal or say she’d missed her, but you could see it in her eyes. “Will you be here long?” she asked wistfully.

“A few more days.”

But Hortie didn’t ask her to come over, or say she would drop by the Worthington cottage. She knew that James would never have allowed it. He thought Annabelle would be a bad influence on her. Divorcées and adulteresses were not welcome in his home, although the stories about him had been far worse.

For a minute, Annabelle wanted to tell her that she’d missed her, but she didn’t dare. It was too late for both of them. And seeing her had made her sad. Hortie looked blowsy, tired, and overwhelmed, and wasn’t aging well. The pretty young girl she’d been years before was gone. She had become a middle-aged woman with a flock of children, and had turned on her best friend. Annabelle would miss her always. Running into her was like seeing a ghost. They said good-bye without embracing, and Annabelle was quiet as they left the restaurant.

Consuelo didn’t speak until they were driving home and then turned to her mother and spoke in a soft voice. “Is that one of the people who said mean things about you?”

“Sort of. She was my best friend when we were growing up, and until then. People do silly things sometimes,” Annabelle said, smiling at her. “We were like sisters when we were your age, and even when we grew up.”

“She’s ugly,” Consuelo said, crossing her arms and frowning. She was angry in her mother’s defense. “And fat.” Annabelle laughed and made no comment.

“She was very pretty as a young girl. She’s had a lot of children.”

“They’re ugly too, and they make a lot of noise,” Consuelo said in disapproval and snuggled up to her mother.

“That they do,” Annabelle commented. Hortie had never been able to control her children, even when she only had one or two. It looked like James had kept her pregnant ever since.

The rest of their stay in Newport was everything they had both hoped it would be. It was a real homecoming for Annabelle and warmed her heart. And as they packed to leave, Consuelo asked her mother if they could come back again. Annabelle had been thinking the same thing, and was glad she hadn’t sold the house. Once again, Lady Winshire had been right. She was, about many things. And her emerald never left Annabelle’s hand. It was a gift she cherished, particularly now that they were friends.

“I was thinking that it might be nice to come back every summer for a few weeks. Maybe even a month. What do you think?” Annabelle asked Consuelo, as Brigitte closed her charge’s bags.

“I’d like that.” Consuelo beamed at her mother.

“So would I.” It would keep her connection to the States, and would establish one for her daughter. With time, all things healed. She had felt it while she was there. Even if they still talked about her, and remembered the scandal of years before, if you held your ground for long enough, people forgot. Or at least the ugly labels faded so people didn’t bother to read them quite as often anymore. It didn’t matter as much to her now. And so much had happened since. She had a whole life of her own somewhere else, a home, a profession, and a child she loved. But she also felt that an old part of her had been returned to her. And it was a part of an old life that she had missed.

William drove them back to Boston, and they took the train to New York. They were only planning to spend two days there this time, and do the few things they had missed when they arrived.

“Take good care of yourself, Miss Annabelle,” William said with tears in his eyes again. “Will you be back soon?” They could all see what a good time she’d had. There had been times, at the beach, or running on the lawn with Consuelo, when she looked like a girl again herself.

“Next summer. I promise.” The farewells with Blanche had been tearful too, but she had made her the same vow.

William hugged and kissed Consuelo and Annabelle, and stood waving from the platform for as long as they could see him.

And then mother and daughter settled into their compartment for the trip to New York. They had had a wonderful time in Newport. It had exceeded all of Annabelle’s hopes.





Chapter 27




Their last two days in New York were hectic but fun. Annabelle took Consuelo to the theater to see a musical and she loved it. They had dinner at Sardi’s and the Waldorf Astoria, in grand style. They took a ferry around Manhattan, and Annabelle pointed out Ellis Island to her again, and told her more about it. And on the last afternoon they walked past her old house again, just to say good-bye. Annabelle stood there for a long moment, paying tribute to it, and all of those who had lived there, even the innocent part of herself that had been lost. She no longer had anything in common with the girl she had been then. She had grown up.

She and Consuelo walked away quietly hand in hand. Consuelo had learned much about her mother during this trip, and her grandparents, her uncle Robert, and even some of her mother’s friends. She hadn’t liked her friend in Newport, the one with all the children. She hated knowing that she had been mean to her mother and made her sad. And she was sorry about the man who had died in Mexico. She could tell that her mother loved him.

This time, Brigitte was slightly less nervous as they boarded the Mauretania to go back. The ship had been so comfortable and luxurious on the way over that she had calmed down considerably. It was an odd feeling for Annabelle as they slipped past the old White Star piers, and Cunard. It reminded her suddenly of when she had gone to pick up her mother thirteen years before, after the Titanic sank. But she didn’t mention it to her daughter, and surely not to Brigitte, who managed to bring it up anyway. Annabelle scowled at her and she stopped.

Annabelle felt herself leaving a piece of her heart behind as they glided past the Statue of Liberty again. She hadn’t felt this tied to her own country for a long time and it was a comfort knowing that they’d be back next summer. Consuelo had talked of it constantly in New York. She loved the cottage and couldn’t wait to return.

There was no one they knew on the ship this time; Annabelle had checked the passenger list. But she wouldn’t have cared. She had nothing to fear. She had braved Newport and New York without incident, and had no more secrets to protect. And even if someone found out about her past, what could they do to her? They couldn’t take away her house, her life, her work, her child. All they could do was talk about her, and she had lived through it before. They had nothing that she wanted. Even Hortie’s painful betrayal had shrunk in size on this trip when she saw her. All the people who had once hurt her so badly were gone, and they had nothing she wanted anymore. They could take nothing from her. She had her own life, and it was a good one.

Annabelle and Consuelo visited the dog kennels again, as they had on the last trip. There was no pug this time but several Pekingese and poodles. Consuelo had missed Coco, her pug, and couldn’t wait to get back to her. Her mother had promised her a weekend in Deauville when they were home. Even Antoine’s impact on Annabelle had faded during this trip. He was a nasty little small-minded man, who lived in a tiny world full of people with narrow ideas. There was no room for her in that world. And no place for him in hers.

They were walking back from the dog kennel, and stopped at the rail to look out at the sea. Consuelo’s long blond hair was blowing in the breeze, and Annabelle’s hat blew off her head and rolled like a wheel down the deck as they chased it, laughing. Annabelle’s hair was still as blond as her child’s, and the hat stopped finally at the feet of a man who picked it up and handed it to them with a broad grin.

“Thank you,” Annabelle said breathlessly, with a girlish smile. The hat had led them a merry chase. Her face was brown from the sun in Rhode Island. She put the hat on again, at a slightly cockeyed angle.

“I think it will blow off again,” the man warned her. She agreed and took it off, as Consuelo struck up a conversation with him.

“My grandfather and uncle died on the Titanic,” she announced, to open the conversation, and he looked at her soberly.

“I’m very sorry to hear that. So did my grandparents. Maybe they met each other.” It was an intriguing idea. “That was a very long time ago. Before you were born, I think.”