Heavenstone 01 - The Heavenstone Secrets

it is for your sister and you to get back to a normal life after … after such a tragedy in your family. I just don’t want you to use that as an excuse for poor study habits.”
    “Exactly,” we heard, and turned to see Cassie standing in the den doorway. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t occur as well, Mrs. Underwood.”
    “Very good. Then you do want me to start tomorrow? You are sure it’s not too soon?”
    “It’s never too soon for any of us to improve, right, Semantha?”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Now, if you’ll just step into my father’s officefor a few more minutes, Mrs. Underwood, I’ll discuss our financial arrangements. Semantha, would you please start preparing the salad? Remember, your daddy and I hate seeing brown stains on the lettuce. Right this way, Mrs. Underwood.”
    Mrs. Underwood nodded at me and followed her.
    “Your daddy and I hate seeing brown stains on the lettuce?” I don’t like that, either.
Whether she was doing it deliberately or not, she was making me feel not only a lot younger but almost like a stranger, some hired servant. Even her voice sounded different to me. It made me a little angry, until I thought that perhaps this was all just her way of coping with our great tragedy and new difficulties. It wouldn’t help things much if I started to complain, anyway, I decided, and went to the kitchen to begin preparations for dinner.
    While I was working, I heard Cassie and Mrs. Underwood come out of Daddy’s office. I couldn’t believe Cassie wouldn’t know I could hear her, but maybe she was just not thinking clearly. I heard her tell Mrs. Underwood, “My sister is a little spoiled. Our mother spoiled her, but don’t put up with any back talk or any snide remarks about the work you prescribe. If she gives you even the slightest trouble, please come see me immediately.”
    “I think we’ll be fine,” Mrs. Underwood said. “She seems like a very nice young girl.”
    “We don’t put blinders on our eyes in this house,” Cassie said. “It’s a Heavenstone trait to be objective and, if necessary, brutally honest. It’s part of what has made us successful.”

    “I’m sure,” Mrs. Underwood said.
    They walked on to the front door, and Cassie let her out and said good-bye.
    My heart was thumping, and I could feel the heat in my face. I had to say something when she entered.
    “I’m not spoiled, Cassie. Why did you tell her that?”
    “Psychology. Of course, she believes you’re spoiled, that we’re both spoiled. She lives in a two-by-four low-income apartment and walks into this mansion where she sees all we have. It’s only natural, expected, that she would think we would be spoiled, rich young women. When will you learn that people beneath you, with so much less than you, instantly harbor a resentment?”
    “But why make her feel that she’s right?”
    Cassie smiled. “Simple. When she sees how we really are, she’ll hate herself for having had such thoughts, and we’ll get along much more easily.” She paused and stared at me so long I didn’t know what to do. “I would think that by now, Semantha,” she continued, her eyes now those Cassie narrow, angry eyes, “you would have confidence and faith in what I say and do, especially for you and for our family, and you wouldn’t challenge me or be critical.”
    “I wasn’t being critical. I was just wondering why you would tell her such a thing.”
    “Well, now you know, so forget it. We have too many other things far more important to do. I’m going to do the meat loaf Daddy loves. Why don’t you go upstairs and put on something nicer for dinner tonight? I laid out something for you on your bed.”

    “You did?”
    She smirked at me as if I had asked something very stupid, but putting out something special for me to wear was often something Mother would do.
    “Go on. Don’t dilly-dally. I want tonight’s dinner to be a little more special. We’ll use the better dishware. Go on!” she snapped when I didn’t move quickly enough for her.
    I turned and hurried up the stairs. Everything had suddenly become even more complicated to me. I felt as if bees were buzzing in both my ears. No more going to school, a tutor, Cassie behaving as if she had suddenly aged twenty years, while treating me as if I had become younger. How much of this was the result of our family tragedy? It seemed I couldn’t even ask a question now. Maybe when Daddy came home, things would be different and not as