Part 3 (1/2)
”All right,” Creighton agreed. ”Go ahead, Ca.s.sandra. Is it an Egyptian G.o.d, or better yet, a gorgeous, scantily clad Egyptian G.o.ddess?”
Marjorie gave him a playful punch in the arm.
”Your guide is Basenji,” Ca.s.sandra coolly stated.
”Basenji,” Creighton slowly repeated. ”Is that a male or a female?”
”Neither. It is a barkless Egyptian dog.” With that, Ca.s.sandra turned on one heel and retreated from the study.
”Oh, you've done it now. She's terrible when she's angry.” Pru took off after her instructor.
”How do you feel about that whole thing?” Creighton prodded his brother after Pru had left the room.
”What whole thing?” Edward replied obtusely. ”Oh, you mean Ca.s.sandra? It's all a bunch of nonsense. Spirit guides, bah!”
”I know that, but Ca.s.sandra's being paid for that nonsense, isn't she?”
”Oh yes, and handsomely too.”
”And you don't mind paying an obvious fraud?”
”Not if it makes Pru happy.” Edward shook his head. ”You don't know what it was like before Ca.s.sandra came along. Pru was constantly talking about getting our own house and starting a family.”
”Well, how long have you been married now? Five years? Those seem like reasonable things for a woman in her position to want,” Creighton a.s.serted as he glanced at Marjorie.
Marjorie, polis.h.i.+ng off her drink, nodded in agreement.
”And she shall have them once Father is gone,” Edward maintained. ”But right now, I'm somewhat tied to the old man's purse strings.”
A bell sounded and the party shuffled out of the study and into the adjacent dining room.
Beneath the candlelight of an intricately carved Waterford chandelier, Creighton Ashcroft II took his place at the head of the heavy British Colonial table and beckoned his guests to be seated.
Opposite Mr. Ashcroft, at the other end of the table, sat Griselda. To his right sat Prudence, Creighton, and Ca.s.sandra. To his left sat Edward and Marjorie. An empty chair occupied the spot between Marjorie and Griselda and opposite Ca.s.sandra.
George entered the room through a paneled door and began pouring the wine.
”Thank you, George.” Mr. Ashcroft grabbed his wine gla.s.s and rose from his chair. ”And thank you, everyone, for being here this evening. As you know-”
The paneled door once again swung open, this time admitting to a bespectacled man of slight build and thinning hair. He fiddled nervously with the lapels of his drape-cut suit as he scurried to his seat.
”You're late, Miller,” Ashcroft admonished.
Miller pushed his spectacles farther up the bridge of his nose. ”I'm sorry,” he murmured.
Ashcroft gave a loud sigh of exasperation. ”As I was saying, tonight is a night of celebration. After having met every debutante in New York and London, after enjoying dinner and brandy with all the well-propertied spinsters in our social circle, and even having dallied with a few dancers from the Ziegfeld Follies-”
Marjorie shot a look at her husband, who merely smiled and shrugged.
”-my eldest son, Creighton, has finally found himself a bride. And what a lovely bride she is. Please join me as I toast to Creighton and Marjorie's happiness. May they enjoy a long, happy life together.”
”Here, here,” Edward rejoined before they all completed the toast with a hearty sip.
”Since no wedding would be complete without a gift,” Ashcroft continued, ”I would like to take this opportunity to present them with something I know Creighton's mother would have wanted them to have.” He nodded to George who, after serving the wine, stood waiting in a dark corner of the room.
George obediently walked over to what initially appeared to be a low, covered buffet table and pulled back the cloth to reveal a carved walnut Italian Renaissance chest.
”The ca.s.sone Mother bought in Italy,” Creighton said in disbelief. ”I didn't realize you still had it. Where was it?”
”It's been here the whole time. Packed away,” Ashcroft explained.
Creighton felt a lump form in his throat. ”I don't know what to say. Thank you.”
”Yes, thank you,” Marjorie echoed.
Ashcroft waved his hand dismissively. ”And now that the formalities are out of the way, I have a personal announcement I'd like to make. George, could you bring your mother in here, please?”
As George retrieved Selina from the kitchen, Mr. Ashcroft's audience exchanged questioning glances, each person looking to the other for some indication of what was to come next.
Once Selina was seated by the kitchen door, Mr. Ashcroft cleared his throat. ”As you all may, or may not, know, last month marked my sixty-fifth year on this earth. Being closer in years to his death than his birth makes a man rea.s.sess his life. It was during the process of rea.s.sessing my life that I came to an eye-opening, somewhat disappointing conclusion: that none of you are worth my time, my energy, or, most importantly, my money.”
There was a loud uproar from his audience, but Ashcroft quelled their murmurs, gasps, and protests, with a raise of his hand.
”You have all been written out of my will.”
Another uproar followed. This time, Ashcroft let it die out on its own. ”You are all out of my will,” he repeated, ”except for one worthy individual.”
His audience, once again, exchanged puzzled glances.
”Selina, my loyal employee for nearly thirty years now,” Ashcroft started amid murmurs and whispers. ”Yesterday, you asked me for the money to send your beloved son to university. When I refused, you threatened to blackmail me.”
”I was out of my head,” Selina explained. ”I was angry ... I-”
”Whatever your reasons, I will beat you to the punch,” Ashcroft trumped. ”George is my son.”
The news produced a series of horrified gasps from his audience-with the exclusion of Marjorie who stared open-mouthed at her dining companions. ”Are you joking? No one here guessed that Mr. Ashcroft was George's father? They have the same eyes! It gave me pause once or twice-and I only just arrived this morning.” Realizing her faux pas, she drew her hand to her mouth. ”Sorry
... I ... go on.”
George, meanwhile, was fuming. ”Is it true, mother?” he asked.
Selina nodded.
”Why didn't you tell me? And you,” George pointed at his father, ”you knew I was your son, but you kept me here as an indentured servant. I hate you!!”
”So do my other sons. Why should you be any different?” Ashcroft remarked before turning his attention to the opposite end of the table.