Heavenstone 01 - The Heavenstone Secrets

television or something. If he takes one look at you, he’ll fall into an even deeper funk. Go on. I’ll stay with him. You did a very nice job with dinner,” she added.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    She smiled and then held out her arms. “Come here.”
    Come here?
How odd, I thought. She kept her arms out until I walked over to her. Then she embraced me and kissed me on my cheek.
    “Good night, little one,” she said. Those had often been Mother’s good-night words. For a longmoment, I couldn’t move. She was wearing Mother’s clothes and Mother’s perfume and makeup and jewelry. She was wearing Mother’s smile.
    It took my breath away.
    I hurried out and up the stairs. When I walked down the hallway, I paused at Cassie’s room. I was drawn to Mother’s vanity table. Maybe it was Cassie’s way of remaining close to her even though she was gone, I thought. I wanted some of that, so I went in and sat at the table. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes began to tear, and then I looked down and saw that wonderful locket. I took it in my hands and just ran my fingertips over it softly, lovingly, smiling to myself at the memory of that dinner when Daddy had given it to her. How happy, bright, and young she had been.
    I flipped it open to relive that moment.
    And my heart did a flip-flop.
    Where Daddy had placed the picture of Mother as a young girl, Cassie had placed a picture of herself.

Porter
    I STARED AT the open locket with such amazement that I didn’t realize how much time had gone by. Cassie had come up to change into something more comfortable. She intended to return to the living room and wait for Daddy to wake up. I had no idea how long she had been standing in her bedroom doorway watching me, but suddenly, as if a cold shadow had slipped over me, I realized she was there and turned abruptly.
    “What are you doing in my room?” she asked softly, calmly.
    Immediately, I closed my fist over the locket.
    “I just felt like sitting at Mother’s vanity table.”
    “That’s no longer Mother’s vanity table, Semantha. It’s mine. If we don’t think in those terms, we’ll be crying and beating our chests all over this house. What’s in your hand?”
    “Mother’s locket. Why did you replace her picture with yours?”
    “Precisely for the same reason, Semantha, that I don’t call that vanity table Mother’s. It’s no longer Mother’s locket. Mother is gone. It’s my locket, so I put my picture in it.”

    “Does Daddy know?”
    “Of course. I showed it to him.”
    “What did he say?”
    “He said how remarkable it was that he could look at my picture and think he was looking at our mother. It pleased him, and it’s not easy finding things to please your father these days.” She walked in and took the locket out of my hands. “I would appreciate it if from now on, you didn’t rifle through my things.”
    “I didn’t rifle through anything, Cassie. It was right here on the table. And why is it your locket, anyway? Why isn’t it just as much mine?”
    “Mother gave it to me the morning of the day she died. She told me she wanted me to have it.”
    “You never said anything about that.”
    “Don’t be a child, Semantha. Why isn’t this yours? Why isn’t that? You don’t fit into the clothes, and you don’t have the same complexion and hair color, so it makes more sense that I have the makeup and other things, doesn’t it? Well?”
    “I suppose. I remember the morning Daddy gave her that locket for their anniversary. I was just thinking about it today, in fact. I didn’t think you liked it.”
    “Why wouldn’t I like something Daddy bought? He has impeccable taste when it comes to those things. He has a sense of style, classic style. Too bad his younger brother didn’t inherit that love and appreciation for what’s classic instead of flitting about from fad to fad.”
    She opened a small drawer, dropped the locket in, and closed the drawer quickly. I got up, but as I started out, she put her hand on my arm to stop me.

    “I thought you should know. I’ve met someone at work,” she said.
    “What someone?”
    “A nice young man, bright, ambitious. He’s working his way up to be manager of one of our stores. His name is Porter Andrew Hall. The Halls are an old family here, too, but not as old or as important as ours. I’m going on a date with him this Friday, so you’ll be totally in charge of taking care of Daddy.”
    “A date?”
    “A date,” she said.