Viva Vermont! Read online

  “Despite some young ladies’ efforts to spoil things today, the fashion show was a total success,” announced Grandmother at dinner that night. “We raised more money than ever before.”

  Everyone at the table clapped, including Eliza’s parents, who had surprised Grandmother by joining them for dinner. DJ had overheard the intense conversation between Grandmother and the cook and housekeeper at the announcement late in the afternoon.

  “We will be dining formally,” she had informed them. “And I expect a delicious six- to seven-course meal.” Well, the end result was calling out for catering service. Still, Clara and Inez were expected to put everything together and serve this meal “with perfection.” DJ couldn’t help but feel sorry for them.

  This dining development came after the wealthy Wiltons spent about an hour “in conference” with Grandmother this afternoon. DJ knew that they were considering pulling Eliza from Carter House, and DJ had actually hoped that it would happen. Perhaps it would help to bring peace to their chaotic household. Because, despite Eliza’s “sweet” smiles and compliments, she seemed to have a real streak of meanness beneath.

  But after their conference, the Wiltons seemed somewhat appeased. How Grandmother had managed to reassure them that she was not running a sloppy establishment was a mystery. But apparently she had.

  “Desiree,” Grandmother had said quietly as she caught DJ heading upstairs that afternoon. “Please inform the girls that we are dining formally tonight. I expect them to dress accordingly, and I expect everyone to be on their best behavior.” She frowned at DJ. “Is that perfectly clear?”

  DJ shrugged. “Clear enough. I’ll let them know.”

  Grandmother smiled then, patting her hair as if a single styled hair might possibly be out of place. “Thank you, dear. I am in need of a little rest.”

  So DJ had told the other girls what was up, and, although they had complained, everyone had complied. As they sat around the formally set table, DJ thought they’d all make a good ad for a food and fashion magazine, not that she knew of such a thing. Anyway, Grandmother should be appeased. General Harding had joined them as well, sitting at the opposite end of the table from Grandmother and looking very pleased with himself.

  The turkey bisque soup had barely been served (and to DJ’s relief, this was not tasting like their typical low-fat, low-cholesterol, low-calorie fare), when Eliza’s mother used her butter knife to ding on her crystal glass. The table grew unusually quiet. “Excuse me,” she said politely. “But Eliza has something to say to everyone.”

  Eliza sat up straighter and looked around the table with what seemed a contrite but not completely genuine smile. DJ got the distinct feeling what they were about to hear had been carefully rehearsed.

  “I want to apologize to everyone,” she began in her soft, lilting Kentucky drawl. “And particularly to Desiree.” She smiled at DJ now. “I simply do not know what came over me today, except that I was probably having a severe case of pea-green envy.” She sort of laughed, probably in what might be described as a “southern genteel” sort of way, but it grated on DJ’s ears. “I am truly sorry for creating such a spectacle at the fashion show, and I hope that y’all can find it in your hearts to forgive me.” Eliza looked at Taylor now, but DJ couldn’t see her expression, only Taylor’s, and it didn’t look very convinced. “And I apologize to you too, Taylor. I should not have reacted as I did. Please, forgive me.”

  “Well, of course we forgive you, Eliza,” said Grandmother happily. “As I said, girls will be girls. And although I’m training you girls to be ladies, I must remember that Rome was not built in a day. We have made progress, but we still have a long way to go yet.” Then she turned to the Wiltons. “However, I was quite encouraged to hear from some of my New York friends. They were very impressed with the Carter House girls, and felt that some girls might have a future in the fashion industry.”

  Mr. Wilton frowned now. “It’s fine for Eliza to learn to act like a lady, if that’s actually the case, but we would never approve of her taking up modeling as a profession.”

  “Although she might dabble with it a bit,” added her mother. “Just for fun.” She smiled at Eliza now. “It does seem like fun, doesn’t it?”

  Eliza sort of shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know … I doubt that anyone would take me seriously out there.”

  “Oh, don’t be too sure of that,” said Grandmother. “Based on some of the remarks I heard today, there is some very serious interest.”

  “Well, I’m far more interested in seeing Eliza maintaining good grades,” said her father. “That’s more important than fashion.”

  Grandmother looked slightly stunned, but said nothing. “You must be pleased that Eliza got the starring role in our musical,” said Kriti positively. More than ever, it seemed Kriti was Eliza’s biggest fan.

  “Really?” Mr. Wilton peered curiously at his daughter. “I hadn’t heard about this.”

  “Oh, I thought I mentioned it to Mom.”

  “Which musical is it?” asked Mrs. Wilton with interest. “South Pacific,” said Kriti.

  “Ooh, I loved that movie,” gushed Mrs. Wilton. “Eliza, why didn’t you tell me about it?”

  “I thought I had.” Eliza smiled and shrugged in what seemed faux humility.

  “Eliza is playing the nurse,” said Rhiannon.

  “Nurse Nellie,” offered Kriti. “And she’s really good.”

  “Wonderful,” said Mrs. Wilton. “I can just see you in that role, Eliza.”

  “Yes,” said Kriti. “She’s perfect for it.”

  “And I’m playing Liat,” said Taylor, perhaps a little too smugly. “Remember the island girl who Lieutenant Cable falls for.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Wilton. “The talking hands song.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And Taylor has a beautiful singing voice too,” said Rhiannon, which DJ thought was unnecessarily gracious since Taylor had sort of blackmailed her way into a role that had originally belonged to Rhiannon. But to be fair, that was really Casey’s fault. Whatever.

  “When will the performances begin?” asked Mr. Wilton.

  “The week following Thanksgiving,” said Rhiannon. “Thursday through Saturday.”

  “Oh …” Mrs. Wilton looked disappointed. “We’ll be back in France by then.” She glanced at her husband. “But maybe we could hop back.”

  He nodded and smiled. “We wouldn’t want to miss it, would we?”

  DJ wondered what it would be like to have a full set of “original” parents who were that interested in their daughter’s life. Oh sure, they weren’t interested enough not to put her in boarding school, but their willingness to hop across the Atlantic Ocean just to see her in the school play was impressive.

  DJ felt an unexpected pang of longing now. Of course, she knew that if her mom was still alive, things would be different. Very, very different. But she also knew that it was out of her control, and all she could do was move on and make the best of it.

  “Not to change the subject,” said General Harding. “But I wanted to invite you girls to use my lodge next month.”

  “That’s right,” said Grandmother. “General Harding has generously offered us the use of his lodge for Veteran’s Day weekend.”

  “And if we’re lucky, there will be skiing by then,” he told them. “I hear the forecast is for a lot of early snow this year. What do you girls think?”

  “Ooh,” said Eliza. “I love to ski.”

  “And I love to snowboard,” said DJ.

  “What about your leg?” asked Rhiannon.

  DJ frowned. “Well, this cast is supposed to come off in a few weeks. Hopefully I’ll get the green light.”

  Suddenly, the girls all seemed to be talking at once, making plans for what to take, what they needed to shop for, and which was better—skiing or snowboarding. It seemed to be split down the middle. Although Kriti, who hadn’t done either, was naturally siding with Eliza. Anyway, DJ thought that perhaps the
fashion show fight had been completely forgotten in all this excitement, which might be for the best. Especially since it seemed certain that Eliza wasn’t going anywhere.

  “And where is your lodge, General Harding?” asked Mr. Wilton after the table quieted down a bit.

  “Vermont, of course.”

  “Viva Vermont!” said Taylor, holding up her crystal goblet of sparkling apple cider as if to make a toast.

  “Viva Vermont!” echoed the other girls.

  4

  WHETHER IT WAS THE SEEMINGLY endless rain or her clumsy cane and walking cast, the next couple of weeks seemed to move like molasses in winter for DJ. She was really trying not to let her “handicap” get to her, and she was trying not to be envious of the other girls as they went about their normal activities. She was actually praying quite a bit, as well as reading her Bible and going to church and youth group. But still it was hard not to feel a little bummed.

  It didn’t help matters that it seemed like everyone else in Carter House had 1) a life, 2) a boyfriend (or mostly), and 3) extracurricular activities to occupy their time—whether it was practicing for the musical, doing sports, or whatever. It always seemed that everyone, except DJ, had someplace to go or someone to see or something to do, including her grandmother, who had been spending a lot of time with the general lately.

  DJ’s one and only extracurricular activity (besides youth group) was to go to the pool three times a week to swim laps. Sure, she swam by herself while the swim team did their warm-ups and laughed and joked amongst themselves. But it was better than going straight home from school every day, and it helped to pass the time. Plus, the physical therapy was good for her leg. Or so the therapist assured her the last time she went for a visit, even though she hadn’t allowed DJ to lose her walking cast yet. That was a bummer.

  But lately DJ had been feeling like a soggy sponge (both inside and out). It seemed she was either hobbling through the rain, leaving the pool with wet hair, or trying to dry the moisture out of that stupid walking-cast boot. And then it felt like she was crying on the inside too—soggy, soggy. Okay, maybe crying was an overstatement. But she was definitely feeling depressed.

  The only highlight of her life was seeing Caleb at the pool, and he hadn’t even been there this past week. She’d asked Caleb’s replacement about it and had been told that he’d taken a week off to go to his brother’s wedding somewhere on the West Coast. She’d tried to act like “that’s cool,” but she really did miss him. Not that Caleb ever treated her as anything much more than a kid sister—a kid sister that he genuinely liked—but it had been nice having him around. And she missed looking at him, sitting there on the lifeguard chair, smiling that amazing smile, keeping an eye on everyone in the pool.

  Sometimes, as a distraction to other things, she’d find herself daydreaming about Caleb, thinking about when she would graduate from high school (with honors!) and join him at Yale. Okay, she knew she’d have to get extremely serious about her studies if that actually were to happen. But having this forced hiatus from sports, and everything else she loved, proved to be a good opportunity to hit the books. Consequently, her grades did seem to be improving some. Ironic, since she had never considered herself to be academic. Having been the “sporty” girl for so many years, it was hard perceiving herself in a different light. But life had changed.

  “You’ve sure turned into a bookworm,” said Taylor one night as she was getting ready for bed.

  “Crazy, huh?” DJ set aside her history book and yawned. “I used to hate doing homework.”

  “Pretty much.” Taylor frowned as she adjusted a strap of her black silk nightie. The neckline was cut low enough to expose her ample cleavage—not that DJ cared to look. In fact, she still thought it was weird that Taylor wore these silky, slinky, sexy numbers every single night. Like who was she trying to impress anyway? DJ just didn’t get it. The stuff Taylor wore didn’t even look comfortable—let alone warm. But it’s like Taylor never let her guard down when it came to clothing and style. Almost as if she and Eliza were in some kind of competition for “best dressed” Carter House girl. Actually, either of them could easily win that award at school as well. Perhaps in the whole town.

  Despite DJ’s attempts to improve her own fashion habits, she knew she would never take it to the level of Taylor or Eliza. In fact, when it came to sleepwear, Eliza was pretty much the same as Taylor. Although DJ had to give the girl credit since Eliza didn’t go in for “sexy” stuff. Still, she wore “only the finest.” And many of her expensive lace and embroidered nightgowns were from France. But she also shopped at Victoria’s Secret when she was in the mood to go “slumming.” Naturally, Kriti had started to follow suit too, although her taste leaned more toward classic silk pajamas. Still, they couldn’t be cheap. DJ felt pretty sure that Taylor, Eliza, and Kriti kept Victoria’s Secret in business.

  Thank goodness DJ still had Casey and Rhiannon to make her feel normal when it came to fashion. As far as their sleepwear was concerned, they all stuck with their faithful tank tops, T-shirts, boxer-style bottoms, sweats, or an occasional nightshirt. Nothing involving silk, lace, or a fancy designer name.

  “I never do homework,” bragged Taylor.

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed you never bring home books or anything.”

  “Why bother with all that stuff every day? I’m sure it can’t be good for your back lugging all those books around.” Taylor was brushing her hair and then twisting it into a smooth bun that was supposed to “prevent split ends” while she slept. She’d recommended that DJ do the same, although DJ wasn’t sure how anyone could sleep with a big lump of hair to contend with. “Seriously, DJ, I don’t know why you drag all that stuff home every day.”

  “Uh … have you heard of homework?”

  “I do mine at school.” Taylor opened a bottle of expensive-looking Estée Lauder cream and carefully massaged it onto her forearms and neck.

  “How is that even possible?”

  “Oh, there are lots of ways … mostly I just work fast. I complete a lot of things while I’m in class. And I actually use my study period to work.” She laughed. “Well, mostly anyway.”

  “And you manage to keep your grades up?”

  “Yeah …”

  DJ frowned. “Okay, I don’t get this … do you cheat or something?”

  Taylor tossed DJ a scathing glance as she rubbed lotion onto her feet. “For your information, school has always been easy for me.”

  “Apparently.” DJ returned her attention to her book. Still, she wasn’t so sure. Someone with Taylor’s kind of morals, or lack of, might not be above cheating. Not that DJ planned to make any accusations. Lately, she’d managed to stay on Taylor’s good side. In fact, she’d lasted longer in that position than anyone else in this house. If she had to continue being roommates with Taylor, it was well worth practicing a little congeniality.

  “Hey, Seth,” purred Taylor into the phone. “What’s up?”

  Seth Keller was Taylor’s latest boyfriend, if you could call the guys she dated “boyfriends,” which might be a stretch. Taylor seemed to change boyfriends as often as most people changed their sheets. It seemed more appropriate to call them “casual encounters.” Or maybe even road-kill, since she’d already left a trail of broken hearts behind—or so she seemed to think.

  Taylor enjoyed going over her romantic history, when she could get DJ to listen. She would sit and number off her poor victims, one by one, on her fingers. Personally, DJ suspected that some of those guys might’ve been relieved to have made it out of Taylor’s clutches in one piece. And, oddly enough, their old girlfriends usually took them back. DJ wondered if the girls didn’t even feel sorry for the guys—like they’d been helplessly overcome by the evil seductress’s spell and finally returned to their senses. Although, to be fair, it seemed that Taylor was always the one who ended the relationships—or conquests, depending on how you looked at it.

  But DJ wondered if that might possibly change one of these
days—maybe sometime in the foreseeable future too. Because last Saturday night, after Taylor had been out with Seth and probably drinking and doing who knew what else, she had actually admitted to DJ that her greatest fear was being dumped by a guy before she had a chance to dump him first.

  “I have a need for control,” she’d confessed while puffing on a cigarette by the open window. “I want the upper hand, you know?”

  Well, DJ wasn’t sure that she did know. In fact, for the most part DJ felt like she’d never had any control over any aspect of her own life. Well, other than herself and her own choices. She even attempted to say as much to Taylor, but it was obvious that Taylor wasn’t listening … and equally obvious that she only wanted to be listened to.

  Taylor had also told DJ that she “really, really liked Seth,” but that it scared her to feel that way about any one guy. “It makes me feel too vulnerable,” she’d admitted. And, okay, DJ tried to sound sympathetic, but at the same time she wondered if Taylor had any idea of how shallow and selfish she was when it came to guys. More than that, DJ wondered what would happen if Taylor really was on the other end of the “dump” for a change. Would she fall apart? Would she expect DJ to pick up the pieces? DJ wasn’t ready to think about that. In fact, DJ didn’t want to think about anything that had to do with guys or romance or dating or anything like that. It was just too depressing.

  “Let’s have a Halloween party,” suggested Rhiannon at breakfast.

  “You can’t plan a party four days in advance,” pointed out Eliza.

  “Why not?” countered Taylor.

  “I think it sounds like fun,” said DJ, eager to take Rhiannon’s side against Eliza. “What did you have in mind, Rhiannon?”

  “You know, just a fun old-fashioned Halloween party. We could dress up and dunk for apples and carve pumpkins and—”

  “Go trick-or-treating?” teased Taylor.

  “Not exactly.” Rhiannon frowned. “But what’s wrong with having some good old-fashioned fun? What’s wrong with fixing some party food and decorating and putting together some costumes?”