Heavenstone 02 - Secret Whispers

and moved it over to me.
    “Yes, well, that’s the sort of person we want to spoil, then,” Lucille insisted. “Why don’t we plan on leaving in two hours?” she told me. “I have an appointment at my dressmaker’s to confirm my gown and review the gowns for the bridesmaids. There will be three others besides you. One of my best friends from college, in fact, is flying in from Monaco. Claire Dubonnet. She works for the prince.”
    I saw how Mrs. Dobson was studying me for my reaction.
    “Can I count on you, then?” Lucille pursued when I didn’t respond.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Excellent. And as you can now see, it’s a beautiful day, a wonderful day for a new beginning for us both, Semantha. Once again, welcome home,” she said, and walked out.
    “I made those scrambled eggs just like you like them, Miss Semantha, with the cheese.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Dobson. Did you know my father was intending to marry Mrs. Bennet?”
    “The birds were chattering about it, yes,” she said.
    “Were they happy or sad?”
    She just looked at me and started out, pausing at the door. “Call me if you need anything else, Miss Semantha.”
    I started on my breakfast.
    “Why were you so nice to her?” Cassie asked.
    “I have no choice. I don’t want to upset Daddy. Maybe . . . maybe she isn’t that bad. She sounded like she was really interested in me, and I liked what she said about rich people.”
    “You always have been stupid when it comes to seeing people for who and what they are,” Cassie muttered. “Whether it was those idiots in public school or Ellie or Ethan. Don’t you see? She’s using Daddy’s happiness as her shield and her armor. As soon as they’re married, she’ll set out to destroy you.”
    “No,” I said.
    “Yes,” she insisted.
    “No!” I screamed, loudly enough to blow her out of my mind. I thought my cry would bring someone to my room, but apparently no one had heard me. I was no longer hungry but continued to eat what I could so Mrs. Dobson wouldn’t wonder why I had lost my appetite.
    After all, the last thing I wanted anyone to know was how much Cassie spoke to me from beyond the grave.
    And how much that upset me.

Wedding Plans
    L UCILLE HAD D ADDY’S limousine and driver at her disposal. When we got in, she handed me a catalogue of wedding cakes.
    “I’d like your opinion on them,” she said. “It has to be a rather big cake. We’ve decided to pare down the guest list to eighteen hundred. Of course, we could invite many more, but we want these eighteen hundred to feel special on our special day.”
    “Eighteen hundred people?”
    “Yes,” she said, laughing. “I suppose that sounds rather large, but this is a huge property, and your father and my father have made so many important acquaintances over the years, it would be difficult to invite fewer. Notice I said acquaintances, not friends,” she added. “That’s something I want you to digest for a moment, the difference between a friend and an acquaintance.”
    Although she was acting like a teacher, I didn’t feel she was being condescending.
    “A real friend,” she continued, “is even more important than a relative. Relatives are too often envious of each other and easily persuaded to believethat this one or that one was handed everything on a silver platter, especially siblings who are always feeling their parents favored the others.”
    That was Ellie, I thought, and when it came to Daddy and Cassie, I had certainly used to believe that. Lucille was right. Maybe I should listen to some of what she said.
    “Now, a real friend, who is so rare, is someone who is genuinely, sincerely happy for you when good fortune occurs. She or he doesn’t resent it or feel more envy than happiness. A real friend is selfless when it comes to doing things for you, especially at your time of need, and if you’re a good friend, you’ll do the same for him or her. Have you any real friends, Semantha?”
    “Not like that,” I admitted.
    “Precisely. I have only three, maybe four, I’d consider real friends out of all of the acquaintances I’ve made over the years, and as you can see, that’s a lot. With real friends, time and distance don’t matter. We never stop being true to each other. I hope someday you’ll have some real friends, too, even if it’s no more than I have.
    “Of course,” she continued, “no one can be more of a friend to you than your husband, as you are to him. Your father and I