Ivy Secrets, page 11
He nodded “good morning” as Marina stepped onto the front porch, the same as every morning. But this morning, they had a special secret. Marina smiled back.
They walked in silence toward the classroom building: Viktor kept a discreet distance; there was no chance to touch him by mistake or otherwise. Eyes, Marina thought, are everywhere. She felt a growing pride at the respect he held for her, and at his protectiveness.
It was a full day for Marina. She handed in her paper in government: Edward James gave a noncommittal nod when he took the carefully typed, acetate-bound folder. After government there was English literature, followed by music appreciation, then Spanish and Spanish lab. Marina barely had time to see Viktor, but she thought of him all day.
When he met her outside her last class, Marina assumed they would have dinner together.
“I have another commitment tonight,” Viktor said as they crossed the campus toward Morris House.
“Excuse me?” Marina asked.
“I said I have another commitment. You always stay in and study Monday nights. There’s something else I do. I am sorry.”
Marina was too stunned to speak. Something else? Or was it someone else? Someone like Dell Brooks? Bile rose in her throat.
He took her elbow and guided her toward the house. All her hard work, all her hopes and dreams, were disintegrating with each step. He didn’t want her; he didn’t love her. He had used her. The only woman he wanted was Dell Brooks. Old, dowdy Dell Brooks.
They walked up the stairs. Viktor opened the door for her and said, “You’d better go inside. You will be late for dinner.”
She didn’t move. He turned to leave. “Viktor?”
He looked back at her, his distance and his demeanor no different than they had been before last night. As if last night had never happened.
“No good-night kiss?” she uttered.
He held her gaze a moment, then shook his head. “That is not a good idea, Princess.”
She stomped her foot. “Dammit, Viktor. What are you doing?”
“I have plans tonight,” he repeated. “I told you.”
Anger rose within her. “You’re full of shit.”
He began to move away.
“What is more important than being with me?”
“You sound like a spoiled princess. You sound like your sister.”
“I am not Alexis, Viktor. But I am a princess. And you are supposed to answer to me.” The sharpness of her words surprised her.
“No,” he said calmly. “I am only your bodyguard. And I answer only to your father.”
She bit her lip until she thought it might bleed. Two other house residents skipped up the stairs, laughing and talking. They smiled at Marina and pushed their way past her into the house.
“If you must know,” Viktor said, “a group of us meets at the coffeehouse every Monday.”
“I could come along. I do not have to study tonight.”
Viktor shook his head. “Not with this group. They are not the kind of people who welcome princesses.”
She leaned against the door. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Viktor ran a hand through his long hair. It was longer now, Marina realized, than when they’d first come to America so many months ago. “It is a left-wing group. We talk about … socialist kinds of things.”
“Communism?”
“Socialism. For the good of the people.”
“What people?”
He waved a hand in the air: “All people. Any people. Now, please, be a good princess and go inside.”
She wanted to slap him. She raised her hand. He grabbed her wrist. “Please, Princess,” he said quietly.
Tears welled in her eyes. “Was it a joke for you? Would you prefer to forget that last night ever happened?”
He wiped the tears from her cheeks, then turned and went down the stairs.
She skipped dinner. Marina told Charlie she had a lot of studying, and retreated to the solitude of her room. There, she lay awake most of the night. The problem, she knew, was because she was royalty and he was not. It was as simple as that, and as complex. Marina believed Viktor loved her. He had told her so. But if being a princess prevented her from having Viktor, there was only one thing to do. Sometime during the night she made the decision. She would tell Viktor she wanted to marry him. She would tell him that she loved him so much she would abdicate the throne for him. Let Alexis become the next ruler of Novokia, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she would be free, and that she and Viktor would be together.
In the morning, Marina dressed slowly. She waited until she heard Charlie leave for her morning run, then she pulled up her shade and crept downstairs to wait for Viktor in the lobby.
At eight-fifteen the front door opened. A man entered; Marina noted that it was not Viktor, so she quickly averted her gaze.
“Princess?” came a familiar voice, but the voice was not Viktor’s.
She moved her gaze back toward the man. Standing in front of her was Nicholas Furman, King Andrei’s confidant, King Andrei’s friend.
She jumped from the chair. “Nicholas!” she squealed. “What are you doing here? I was waiting for Viktor.”
He nodded and hugged her. “It is good to see you, Princess. You look wonderful.”
Marina laughed. “It is good to see you, too. How is Father? How is my mother?”
“They are fine. And so is your sister, though you didn’t ask.”
Marina wrinkled her nose and they both laughed. The friction between Marina and Alexis was well known throughout the palace, perhaps even throughout the world.
“I am going to take you out for breakfast,” he said.
“But what are you doing here?”
“I will tell you over breakfast. I hope you know a good restaurant nearby.”
“Of course. But we should wait for Viktor.”
Nicholas hesitated only a heartbeat before he spoke. But in that heartbeat, Marina sensed doom. “Viktor will not be joining us,” he said. “He has returned to Novokia. For the rest of your years at Smith, I will be your bodyguard.”
Chapter 7
It was the first Sunday back at Smith: the beginning of her sophomore year. As Charlie took her early morning jog along the path that wove around Paradise Pond, she was filled with enthusiasm over the new year and the possibilities that lay ahead. She had made the dean’s list her freshman year, accumulating a 3.85 average. Her scholarship was intact; her life was on course.
She followed the curve of the path to an open spot with a clear view of the pond. In the distance two swans languished: two swans, mates for life. Charlie smiled. Maybe this would be her year to find her mate; maybe he would be Vance Howard, the guy from Amherst College she’d met on the bus from the airport last week, the boy she had a date with later tonight. She was glad she had worked at Felicia’s again this summer, and that she’d used some of her money to buy a few expensive outfits: a beige cashmere dress, an Ultrasuede skirt and vest, a creamy shirt and matching chocolate pants. If she was going to land a husband with money—a husband like Vance Howard, whose father was a U.S. congressman—Charlie knew she had to look the part. The rest would be easy. Her only concern now was which outfit to wear tonight. Vance was going to take her to the symphony, followed by a late supper. Charlie decided that when she returned to Morris House, she’d enlist Tess and Marina’s help in deciding what to wear.
She thought of how the summer had changed them all. Tess wore makeup now. She had lost weight, and had traded in her long skirts and peasant blouses for tight-fitting jeans and sweaters. She curled her hair each morning and wore an abundance of silver jewelry. She had actually become attractive, Charlie thought. Probably because her boyfriend would be back at Amherst, although Tess hadn’t mentioned seeing him yet.
Marina, too, was different, though not in such a positive way. She was still elegant, still perfect-looking, but the somberness that had set in last year when Viktor left seemed to have deepened. Charlie didn’t know what Marina had done over the summer: Marina didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Charlie only knew that when she asked Marina if she’d seen Viktor in Novokia, Marina had simply shaken her head and changed the subject.
As for Charlie, she had worked very hard to change, to mature, to focus on those things she wanted beyond Smith. And she was now more determined than ever to have a better life. She would start tonight. She would start with Vance. And the first thing she was going to do was have him pick her up under the arch at the Quad. If she intended to find a guy with money, she might as well let him think that she had money, too.
She said a silent good-bye to the swans, wiped the beads of perspiration from her brow, and headed up the hill toward the house. Cashmere, Ultrasuede, silk or not, Charlie still had to serve Sunday brunch to earn her keep.
“You look like a Quad Bunny,” Tess said, as Charlie modeled the cashmere dress.
Charlie pretended to be offended.
“It is too early for cashmere,” Marina commented, her accent heavier than last year. “Never wear cashmere before October fifteenth.”
Charlie smiled but did not mention that in Pittsburgh, the only thing you didn’t do before October fifteenth was turn on the oil burner, no matter how cold it got.
“No cashmere before October fifteenth,” Tess echoed, “and no white before Memorial Day.”
“What time is he picking you up?” Tess asked. “I want to get a look at the son of a U.S. congressman.”
After taking off the cashmere dress with a groan, Charlie held up the silk pant outfit and examined it for wrinkles. She didn’t want them to know that Vance was meeting her at the Quad; she didn’t feel like explaining. “Actually,” she said, pulling on the pants and zipping them up, “I’m meeting him in front of the museum. He doesn’t know the campus.”
“How hard is it to find Morris House? Does he have a brain?”
“Maybe not.” Charlie put on the blouse and buttoned it. “But he’s awfully good-looking.”
“And rich.”
“That outfit is perfect,” Marina interrupted. Charlie could have kissed her for changing the subject. “If I had a date tonight, I would wear that.”
“So why don’t you have a date tonight?” Tess asked.
Marina rose from Charlie’s clothes-cluttered, unmade bed. “I could ask the same about you. Is your boyfriend back at Amherst?”
Tess curled a lock of hair behind one ear. “It’s his senior year. He’s busy getting his schedule together.”
Marina snickered. “Right.”
“Stop it, you two.” As Charlie examined herself in the mirror, she reminded herself to keep jogging, that the exercise kept her trim and toned in all the right places. “I won’t have you arguing in my room.” There was a new tension between Tess and Marina that Charlie didn’t like. She wondered if Marina was still angry at losing Viktor, and misdirecting that anger toward Tess. They’d both be much happier, Charlie suspected, if they both had dates tonight.
Marina laughed. “You would not know a real argument if you fell over one.”
“That’s not true. I have five brothers and sisters, remember?”
“And I have one sister who could out-argue any of them.”
“Why doesn’t she come here to college?” Tess asked.
“Because I do not want her to.”
“Does everyone always do everything you want?”
“I am next in line to the throne,” Marina said. “Of course they do.”
It was the first time Marina had sounded conceited about who she was.
“Well, pardon us peasants for breathing,” Tess scoffed.
“I’m sure Marina didn’t mean it that way,” Charlie said.
“Yes, I did.”
Charlie frowned. “You did?”
“My sister is an idiot.”
Tess laughed. “Well, you know what they say. It takes one to know one.”
Charlie slipped out of her pantsuit and wished she knew how to shut Tess up. She wanted to look forward to her date tonight without anyone dampening her mood. “Even if Alexis is an idiot,” she said, “it must be hard on her always to be second best.”
“She had her ways of letting me know she does not think she is second best. One of the reasons she didn’t want to go to college was so she could get married.”
“She’s getting married?” Charlie asked.
“In June. To Lord Jonathan DuValle. A man with a title and no money. A Slavic nightmare.”
“Twenty is too young to get married,” Tess remarked.
“Not if you are, Alexis. Not if you are trying to get the jump on your sister and produce the first offspring of the next generation.”
“The king’s first grandchild,” Charlie pointed out.
“And the next in line to the throne—after me—if I fail to reproduce.”
“She doesn’t love this Lord whoever he is?”
Marina laughed. “Alexis loves no one but Alexis. Jonathan DuValle is a convenience. A means to an end.” She pulled back her long hair and Charlie was once again struck by how pretty Marina was, how flawless her skin, how deep her eyes. And though her frame was small, her carriage was unmistakable: quality, elegance, royalty. Charlie looked at Marina’s warmup suit—an ordinary warm-up suit on anyone else, but Marina wore it with the grace befitting a black-tie event. As she carefully draped her silk outfit on a padded hanger, Charlie realized that no matter how much money she spent on clothes, she would never have Marina’s savvy. Or her class.
“You may be honored with the privilege of meeting Alexis,” Marina added as she moved toward the doorway. “Before I left, she threatened to come to America to buy her wedding gown.” With that remark, Marina disappeared into her own room.
“Can you imagine?” Tess whispered to Charlie. “Two of them?”
If Marina heard Tess’s words in the next room, she didn’t respond.
“How about a frat party?” Vance suggested as he and Charlie walked down the steep, wide stairs of Springfield Symphony Hall.
“I thought we were going to a restaurant,” she said. She’d been to only one fraternity party last year, and the smell of beer and cigarettes hadn’t come out of her clothes even after she washed them.
They crossed the small park at Court Square, past the old, white church, down the redbrick street.
“I need to stop in for a few minutes. Make an appearance. We can go out after.”
“Sounds fair,” Charlie said, smiling at him as he opened the door of his MGB for her.
In the forty-five minutes it took to get from Springfield to Amherst, Vance talked a lot—about himself, his congressman father, and the office in Northampton that Vance had recently helped set up so that his father could be close to his constituents. “During his last campaign, he told the people he’d be more accessible,” Vance said. “Times have changed. Politics has changed. Ever since Watergate, everyone’s making more demands on politicians.”
He sounded as though he didn’t think that was fair. Charlie pretended to agree, though she couldn’t care less. She was thoroughly enjoying sitting back in the great sports car, wanting to be admired by all those they passed on the road, feeling good in her silk outfit. Feeling right.
“A friend of mine dates a guy from Amherst,” she said during a lull in the conversation.
“What’s his name?”
Charlie thought a moment. “Peter, I think.” She couldn’t remember Tess’s boyfriend’s last name. “He’s a senior.”
Vance took a quick turn off the highway to cross over the Calvin Coolidge bridge—the green bridge, as most everyone called it. “There’s nobody named Peter in my house,” he said. “What kind of car does he drive?”
“Car?”
He shifted the gears and chuckled. “My father says you can tell everything about a man by his car. The sharper the car, the more money he has.” He winked at Charlie. “I guess the same goes for women these days. What kind of car do you have?”
Charlie quickly averted her eyes and gazed out the window. “Pontiac,” she answered.
“Firebird? That’s cool.”
Well, Charlie thought, it wasn’t exactly a lie. The O’Briens did have a Pontiac, but it was an old four-door Bonneville. She didn’t dare explain that to Vance, or tell him that the car had rust on the bottom and that the upholstery inside was held together with gray electrical tape.
The house was big and roomy; Victorian in architecture, blatantly male in decor, as if in protest to the fact that two years earlier, Amherst had become coed. Inside, the crowded, noisy living room was decorated with banners and posters of various jocks in various stages of football glory. The tall windows were undraped; a piano that sat in one corner was covered with paper plates of half-eaten pizza, kielbasa, and baked beans; bowls of potato chip crumbs and pretzel remains littered the windowsills and radiators. The stench of beer was pungent and the level of singing, laughing, and shouting was so loud that Charlie couldn’t tell whose music was blasting from the huge stereo speakers that hung from the high ceiling.
“Hey, Vance, my man,” yelled one burly, drunken brother.
“Hey, Jason,” Vance replied with a wave, as a drunken guy wove through the crowd of happy partygoers, past a girl who danced alone, her large breasts bouncing. The girl giggled as he stopped to rub one of her breasts.
When Jason reached them, he slapped Vance on the back, whistling as he looked at Charlie. “Where’d you get the lady?” he shouted above the noise.
“Smithie,” Vance shouted back.
“A Bunny!”
Charlie tried not to shrink from the repulsive breath of Vance’s friend, but she was pleased to be presumed a Quad Bunny. One goal attained, she thought.
“Come on, Vance,” Jason slurred. “Bring your Bunny and follow me to the keg!”
With Vance’s hand on the small of her back, she followed Jason into an enormous kitchen where several guys were clustered around a keg. One of them belched.
