Tom Dolby - The Trust

Phoebe nodded. “I know. But we’re trapped in it now. All I want is to get out, to get away from all the craziness.”

“I don’t know how you can get out. I know that others have tried, and failed.”

“Others? Like who?”

“Why don’t you go get that teapot and I’ll tell you.”

Phoebe walked to the kitchen. She wanted to find out as much as she could, but she wondered how much she could ask before Genie got too suspicious.

“My daughter was in your same position,” Genie said as Phoebe poured two cups of tea in the living room. “She thought that being in the Society would make her life wonderful. And it was, for a time. She met her husband, she had a child. And then there was a disagreement.”

“A disagreement with whom?”

“Let’s just say that she upset some people with her words. She upset the people in charge. And then she had her psychotic break.”

Phoebe thought back to her experience with Dr. Meckling, how quickly he had labeled her as delusional.

“And that was when she was hospitalized?” Phoebe asked. She knew about the story from Nick.

“That’s right. Patch doesn’t know all the details, and I’d rather not get into them now. All I am saying is that you have to be cautious. Patch is looking for information about his mother, but I’m not certain he’s ready to know everything.”

“What about the Bells?” Phoebe asked. “I’m trying to understand-forgive me if I’m being nosy, but there’s a connection somehow between you and Patch and them. I mean, beyond your engagement to Palmer Bell.” She knew she was taking a risk, and she wasn’t even sure if what she was saying was true, but there were too many connections for it to be a coincidence: Genie being in the same building as the Bells, years after her broken engagement with Palmer; Patch and Nick’s friendship; Genie’s knowledge of the Society; the bottle of tuberose perfume in Genie’s medicine cabinet that smelled exactly like the scent used in the initiation ceremony.

“Our families have always been close,” Genie said a bit stiffly. “Not so much in recent years, aside from Patch and Nick’s friendship.” She took a sip of tea. “I’m not really sure what else you want to know.”

Phoebe sensed a defensiveness in her voice and realized that to push the issue would seem rude. She and the others needed to keep Genie on their side, and she didn’t want to alienate her.

“I’m sorry,” Phoebe said. “I’ve been so intrusive-it really isn’t polite.”

“Not to worry, dear. It was kind of you to visit. And yes, if you’re wondering, I would have asked exactly the same questions myself when I was your age.”

A week later, Claire Chilton announced the first meeting of the Dendur Ball Junior Committee at the Colonial Club. Lauren and Phoebe attended begrudgingly, knowing that they didn’t have a choice.

Phoebe and Lauren arrived just as the meeting was starting. Nick, Patch, and Thad were already there, listening dutifully to Claire Chilton. What a charade this all had become, Lauren thought. Who ever thought that one’s greatest role in life would be playing oneself?

After the meeting, which had mostly been a pep rally urging everyone to get their friends to buy the $250 tickets to the ball, Mrs. Chilton approached Lauren, with Claire behind her. Letty Chilton had been supervising the meeting from the back of the room, as if she didn’t trust her daughter to do something properly on her own. Lauren and Phoebe were standing next to each other; the boys had disappeared somewhere else, into the vast maze of rooms that was the club.

“Lauren, dear, I’ve just had the most marvelous idea suggested to me,” Mrs. Chilton said.

“Yeah?” Lauren cocked her head. She realized she was being a bit rude, but Mrs. Chilton didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m very interested in your little jewelry company.”

“Thanks,” Lauren said.

“And you specialize in reproductions?”

Lauren bristled. She did not do reproductions. To suggest it was an insult.

Lauren smiled as sweetly as she possibly could, given that she wanted to walk away. “They’re not reproductions. They’re my own designs, and reinterpretations of classic jewelry.” She paused. “Really old stuff. The kind of thing you might have worn while growing up.”

Now it was Mrs. Chilton’s turn to pay Lauren no mind. “We have had the most brilliant idea. You are familiar with the Scarab of Isis necklace?”

Lauren nodded. “I think I’ve seen pictures of it.” The piece was a scarab, a winged beetle that was a popular amulet in ancient Egypt. The original was gold, inlaid with stones that were burgundy, navy blue, and turquoise. The gorgeous beetle was about the size of a silver dollar and hung on a gold chain.

“It’s coming to the Met again from Cairo, on loan for the new exhibit. We were thinking that the museum could give you the dimensions of it and the names of the original materials. We’d like you to make copies of it for all the members of the Junior Committee, using less expensive materials, of course. Won’t it be darling when all the girls are photographed wearing such a stunning piece?”

“Absolutely,” Claire said, nodding.

“Mrs. Chilton, I really don’t make copies,” Lauren said. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” That wasn’t true at all, of course. It would be easy to make a copy. All Lauren would have to do is hand the specifications to her manufacturer in Red Hook, the one Sebastian Giroux had connected her with.

“Lauren, dear, I know you can make it happen. I’ll have the marketing department at the museum contact you tomorrow with all the details. Oh, and say hello to your mother for me, will you? I’m going to call her next week, as a few of our rooms need a face-lift, and I think she’d be perfect for the job.”

Claire gave Lauren a sneer as she walked away.

“I guess you’ve got yourself a jewelry job,” Phoebe said.

Lauren scowled. “Isn’t it ironic? You get the thing that you want all your life-or at least, for most of your life-and then you don’t want it anymore.”

“Tell me about it,” Phoebe said. Lauren understood that Phoebe knew exactly how it was, having gone through a similar experience with her gallery show last November. A number of the paintings had disappeared, and Phoebe was never paid for them.

“Reproductions of jewelry,” Lauren said. “What does she think I am, a supplier to the museum gift shop or something? So tacky!”

“Think of it as charity work,” Phoebe said.

“I guess so.” Lauren lowered her voice. “What I really want to know is, when are you and Nick going to figure out what the next step is in his grandfather’s little treasure hunt? If that’s what it is.”

Phoebe shook her head. “We’ve been so busy with school, we haven’t really had a chance to come up with a plan.”

Lauren had a pleading look in her eyes. “Whatever you do, please come up with it quickly, okay?”

“We will,” Phoebe said. “We’ll do our best.”

In the days following the Palm Beach trip, Patch thought about his situation and how similar it suddenly was to his grandmother’s. After he had returned from Isis Island, Genie revealed to him that she had dated Palmer Bell in the 1950s, and they had been engaged to be married. Palmer’s family intervened, however, and the night before their wedding, he had disappeared on an ocean liner to Italy. It had taken Genie nearly a year to recover from the shock, and she was grateful to have met Patch’s grandfather, George, whom she married within three months. Now Patch was in the same situation, dating someone not in the Society. Would it always be a boundary that divided people?