Heavenstone 02 - Secret Whispers

say anything, but there was one thing I didn’t need much discussion to decide, and I thought I’d make that clear right then and there, right at the start.
    “I don’t want a wedding like yours.”
    She recoiled with surprise.
    “I want a small family affair.”
    Lucille stared at me a moment. “I see,” she said. She wore an incredulous half-smile that quickly evaporated as she looked at the rest of her soup. “I’m sureyou’ll change your mind when all this settles in,” she said without looking at me.
    “I’m sure I won’t,” I replied, and looked at Ethan. He tried smiling, but his eyes were two pools of fear. The surprise was veering off like a plane that had lost its tail end.
    No one else spoke. Mia returned and took away our soup bowls. Moments later, Chef Gerad came in himself with the tray of entrées. He was proud of his creation and stood back to watch us taste the veal chop. Everyone, even I, who was still quite upset about the dismissal of Mrs. Dobson and Doris, had to admit it was delicious. Daddy once again congratulated Lucille for getting us Gerad.
    The two De Stagen sisters hovered behind us during the entire meal, ready to jump and pour more wine or pass something on the table. Dishes and glasses were removed as soon as they were no longer required. I looked to see if anyone else was bothered by their intensity, but no one was. When Mrs. Dobson and Doris were there, dinner had still felt like a homemade meal in a home. This dinner gave me the feeling that I had been transported to an elegant and expensive French restaurant. I half expected to see Daddy get the bill and pull out his credit card. I almost said so but thought it would only upset him. Later, however, I did tell Ethan how I felt.
    “You’ll get used to it,” he said.
    “I don’t want to get used to it. I don’t want to be on a stage when I eat dinner. Next thing you know, we’ll be given a book of etiquette to study.”
    I saw a slight smile on his lips.
    “You don’t have that book, do you, Ethan?”
    “A little fairy put it on my dresser when I first arrived.”
    “I wonder who that was,” I said, and shook my head.
    “You weren’t serious about our wedding, were you?” he asked.
    “Yes, why?”
    “Oh, you don’t want to do that, Semantha. A father gets so much pleasure from making his daughter’s wedding. Your dad surely wants to enjoy it, too, don’t you think?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. I hadn’t thought of it from that viewpoint.
    “Well, just give it some more thought, okay?”
    I nodded, but I had a Cassie thought. Was it really my father he was thinking of, or was he thinking of himself and what an impression he would be making on his family and his friends? I hated having such a thought about him and shook it out as soon as it occurred.
    In the days that followed, I didn’t have much time to think about it, anyway. We went to Daddy’s award dinner, which was quite impressive. There were television and newspaper people all over us the whole time. When we returned home, there was too much going on in the house to think about much else.
    Lucille apparently had decided to make some significant decorative changes, which included some of the upstairs, but not yet my wing. I learned about it as it happened. What surprised me was how deepsome of the changes were. Not only were walls repainted and floors redone, but furniture was replaced. With something else happening every day, it was hard to catch my breath and ask about what had been done.
    What shocked me most of all was Daddy’s acquiescence. For all of my life, the furnishings and decor of Heaven-stone had been sacrosanct. Mother had been permitted to make only the smallest of changes compared with what Lucille was doing, which included a total revamping of the kitchen to make it “a first-class gourmet kitchen.” The old furniture was relegated to the attic, which was rapidly becoming the Heaven-stone historic cemetery.
    Of course, I complained to Ethan, who told me it was only natural for a woman to want to put her own stamp of identity on her home.
    “You would do the same thing,” he said, which put a new thought in my head, especially now that I saw what Lucille was doing and Daddy was letting her do.
    “Maybe you’re right. After we’re married, we’ll have our own home. I suppose we should start thinking about it.”
    He looked at me strangely. “Our own home? You mean, you’d want to move out of