Storms 01 - Family Storms

gardens, pruned bushes, and an area that seemed to be under construction. I asked about it.
    “Donald’s building a hedge maze,” she said. “Like the one in Hampton Court in England.” When I didn’t say anything, she added, “Oh, but you probably don’t know anything about that yet. You’ll learn about such things in history when you return to school. There,” she said, pushing me to the far left corner. “See downtown Los Angeles? Isn’t it beautiful to be able to see it from here?”
    “Were you always rich?” I asked.
    “Rich?” She laughed. “Oh, well, yes, I suppose I was—or my family was, I should say. My father always says Donald interrupted my education. I was just graduating from Marlborough and on my way to attend Smith when I met Donald at a charity gala in Los Angeles. I had never met anyone like him. He was basically just starting out, but he was so sure of himself. You know how people often say there are no guarantees in life? Well, Donald behaved as if he had been given a guarantee of major success.
    “But it wasn’t only that. He was and is a very attractive man who believes your presentation is of paramountimportance. My father believes the same thing. People usually, whether rightly or wrongly, judge you on first impressions, so it’s essential to make the best first impression always. You’ll never notice Donald looking sloppy or unkempt. He’s never off duty, so to speak, whereas I’ll let my hair down occasionally. Needless to say, my father loves Donald. In fact, he fell in love with him before I did.”
    She gave a trickle of a laugh. “I don’t mean anything like gay love. He loved who Donald was and wanted to be. Can you imagine a father telling a girl just out of high school that this was the man for her? Oh, I know some people thought that was because my father believed I could never succeed at anything but being a wealthy man’s wife.” She laughed again. “Maybe that’s true. So what?”
    I don’t know if she realized how much she had said so quickly or not, but she stopped talking and just stood there beside me looking out at the lights in the distance.
    “What about your mother?” I asked, since she never had mentioned her.
    “My mother was a rich man’s wife,” she replied, as though that answered everything. “Whatever my father said was gospel. She doted on my younger brother far more than me, anyway. He’s a lawyer working for the Justice Department in Washington, a great success. They think he might become attorney general someday. I think every other sentence out of her mouth begins with his name, Gerald. Gerald Savoir Faire, his friends call him. You know what that means in French?”
    “No.”
    “To know how to do … everything. Sophisticated,” shesaid, but she didn’t say it with pleasure and pride. “I’m just kidding,” she quickly added. “He’s terrific. His real name is Gerald Wilson. We’re supposedly descendants of President Woodrow Wilson, you know. That’s almost royalty in America.”
    “What about Mr. March’s parents?”
    “That’s a different story. Donald’s father was married to someone before he married Donald’s mother, and he has children with his first wife. He and Donald’s mother had only Donald, and his mother died two years ago while on holiday with Donald’s father and two of his three other children and their families.”
    She sighed deeply. “Aren’t families complicated sometimes?” she asked, but she didn’t look at me. She looked out, as if she were asking someone else.
    We were both quiet, and then, after a few moments, she turned sharply and said, “Don’t let Kiera’s behavior at dinner and Donald’s tolerance of her discourage you. You belong here now. I’m determined about that. Give it time. Everything takes time. Otherwise,” she continued with a smile, “babies wouldn’t need nine months.”
    What was she thinking and saying? That I was going to be reborn in nine months?
    “I’m so happy we had this little chat. We have to do it more and more so we get to know each other better. Soon Donald will open up more, as well, and before you know it, we’ll be like a family, a family for you. Okay? Don’t be discouraged, okay?”
    I saw that she wasn’t going to stop until she got me to agree. I nodded, and she smiled.
    “Good. What was it Scarlett O’Hara said? ‘Tomorrow is another day’? Well, tomorrow is another day, and every tomorrow thereafter. Would you like to