Danielle Steel - Family album

“Would you like to feed the baby now, Mrs. Thayer?” The fancy British nanny stared malevolently at her, or at least that was how Faye saw her now, thinking of her salary and also of how she had attempted to make her feel guilty all day.

“I can't, Mrs. McQueen. I'm sorry …” She turned away, feeling the knife of guilt slice at her heart. “I'm too tired …” But it wasn't that. She wanted to go through her jewelry before Ward came upstairs. She had made an appointment with Frances Klein the following day, and she had to decide now what she wanted to sell to them. She knew that she would get a fair price from them. And there was no turning back now … and also no time for little Anne, poor tiny frail child. “Maybe tomorrow night,” she murmured to the nurse as she hurried to her room, averting her eyes. It would be easier if she didn't see the child, so recently sprung from her womb. And a week or two before, that was all she had to think about. But not anymore … not now … with the tears spilling from her eyes, she hurried into her room and closed the door, as Mrs. McQueen watched her go, shook her head, and headed for the nursery upstairs.

CHAPTER 6

Christie's picked up the furniture in February. They took all the significant antiques, the six sets of fine antique china Faye and Ward had bought in the last seven years, all of the crystal chandeliers, the Persian rugs. They took almost everything except the bare necessities. And Faye arranged it all so that the children would be in Palm Springs with their nurse, and she urged Ward to go away as well.

“Trying to get rid of me?” He looked at her balefully over the standard glass of champagne he always seemed to hold, except that the glasses were larger nowadays.

“You know better than that.” She sat down next to him with a sigh. She had been labeling furniture all day. Red tags for everything that went, blue for what stayed, and there wasn't much of that. She wanted to sell everything valuable they had. The simpler things they could use when they moved on. It was depressing for everyone, but it had to be faced. They were words Ward had come to hate, but she was merciless. Now that she knew the truth, she wouldn't let him hide from it anymore. She was doing everything she could to help, but she wouldn't allow him to lie to himself or to her. It was Faye who dealt directly with the lawyers now, and privately it worried her. She knew that what she was doing was, in some hidden way, emasculating him. But what could she do? Let him go on living the lie? Running up more debts? She shuddered at the thought. To her, it seemed better to face the music now, and then build a new life again. They were still young enough. They had each other, and the kids. Now and then, she was as terrified as Ward. It was like climbing a steep mountainside, but she rarely allowed herself to look down. That was another luxury they could no longer afford. They just had to move on. “I sold the carousel yesterday.” It was the only subject they talked about anymore, what had been sold, what had not. The house still hadn't moved, and it was beginning to worry her. “I sold it to a hotel, for a decent price.”

“How wonderful.” He got up suddenly and went to fill his glass again. “I'm sure the children will be thrilled with the news.”

“I can't help that.” … but you could have, she thought suddenly, and then forced the words out of her mind. It wasn't her fault that they were losing everything. But she wouldn't allow herself to blame Ward either. He had never known any other way of life. No one had taught him to be responsible. And he had always been wonderful to her. In spite of everything, she still loved the man, but sometimes it was difficult not to blame him for what was happening now. It had all been such a sham, for so long … if only she had known…. She found him staring at her, a look of despair in his eyes as he held his glass. For an instant, just an instant, she could glean what he would look like as a very old man. Most of the time, he still looked like a boy, a very handsome, debonair, carefree young man, but now suddenly, in the past two months, he seemed to have taken on the weight of the world and it was aging him. She had even noticed a few gray hairs mixed in with the blond, and there were new lines around his eyes. “Ward …” She looked across the room at him, wondering what she could say to ease the pain, to make them both better able to live with the truth. And the questions and terror roared through both their minds like trains. Where do we go from here? What do we do now? What happens when the house is sold?

“I wish I'd never dragged you into this.” He sat down, feeling sorry for himself, guilty toward her. “I had no right to marry you.” But he had wanted and needed her so desperately, especially after the war, after his first bride's death two months after marrying her … and Faye had been so remarkable. And she still was. That made it even harder now. He hated what he was doing to her.

She walked slowly to him and sat on the arm of his chair. She was thinner than she had been before Anne, thinner than she had been for years. But she was working hard these days, up at dawn, packing boxes, sorting through mountains of things. She did some of the housework herself, with one of the two remaining maids. The huge staff was reduced to two women who cooked and cleaned for all of them, the nurse who had been with the children for the past six years since Lionel was born, and the baby nurse who had been hired to care for Anne. Eventually, Faye planned to reduce their numbers further to two, but for the moment she still needed these, to help her pack up and close the house eventually. The rest of the staff was long since gone. Arthur and Elizabeth had retired tearfully some six weeks before, leaving Faye after so many years. Both chauffeurs had been fired, the majordomo, and half a dozen maids. Eventually perhaps they wouldn't need anyone at all, if they found a house that was small enough. She hadn't even begun to tackle that yet. She had to sell this one first. And Ward was letting her do it all.

“Wouldn't you rather just have a divorce?” He stared at her, his glass empty in his hand once again. But not for long. Never for long anymore.

“No.” She said it loud and clear in the half-empty room. “I would not. As I recall, the man said ‘for better or worse,’ and if things are tough right now, then okay, that's the way it is.”

“‘That's the way it is’? We have the rugs sold out from under our feet, the roof from over our heads, our lawyers are lending us money to buy food and pay the maids, and you're just going to shrug it off? And just how do you think we're going to eat after this?” He poured himself another drink, and she had to fight herself not to ask him to stop. She knew he would eventually. Everything would be normal again. One day. Maybe.

“Well figure something out, Ward. What choice do we have?”

“I don't know. I suppose you think you'll go back to your movie career, but you're no spring chicken anymore, you know.” She could tell from the way he was beginning to slur his words that he was drunk by now, but she didn't cringe at his words.

“I know that, Ward.” Her voice was painfully calm. She had been thinking about it herself for weeks. “Something will work out.”

“For who? For me?” He advanced on her menacingly, which was unlike him. But they were both under such strain that anything was possible now. “Shit, I've never worked in my whole life. What do you think I'm going to do? Get a job at Saks selling shoes to your friends?”

“Ward, please …” She turned away so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes, and he grabbed her arm and pulled her back viciously. “Come on, tell me your plans, Miss Reality. You're the one who's been so busy making us face up to it all. Hell, if it hadn't been for you, we'd still be living the way we were before.” So that was it, he blamed her, and not himself, or maybe he only wished he did. She knew him well, but it didn't stop her from lashing out at him.