Music in the Night by V. C. Andrews Page A

anything,"
I added, knowing he was waiting to hear about that
most of all.
"Your father was waiting up? I guess it would
have been disastrous if Cary hadn't come to the
rescue, but I still can't get over his following us,
Laura. Have you talked to him about it?"
"Not yet, Robert. I'm waiting for the right
time." "Don't put it off, Laura," he warned.
"I won't," I said in a little voice. It wasn't
something I looked forward to doing.
"I can't wait to see you again," he added in a
softer tone.
"Me neither. I'm going to my grandmother's for brunch in a little while. I've got to get ready and then
help May get dressed."
"Okay. Thanks for the call," he said in a voice
that sent shivers all the way to my toes.
"I couldn't wait," I confessed shyly.
"I'm glad," he said and we both hung up. I
hurried upstairs to dress and help May pick out
something that wouldn't make Grandma Olivia shake
her head disapprovingly.
Grandma Olivia was always uncomfortable
around May. We all knew that the signing unnerved
her: She said all those hands bending and turning
through the air, fingers jabbing, made her stomach
jump. She resisted learning any of it and consequently
spoke to her youngest grandchild only through an
interpreter, usually me or Cary.
Although Mommy seemed to look forward to
Grandma Olivia's brunches and dinners, she was
always nervous the day of the visit. Mommy reminded
me of someone who was preparing for an audition.
Pains were taken over how all of us dressed, how well
our hair was brushed, our shoes shined, and we were
always, even now, reminded about the rules of
behavior when at Grandma Olivia's' home, including
what not to say and what to say. If one of us didn't pass Grandma Olivia's inspection, Daddy usually blamed Mommy, so we did our best to live up to
expectations.
We all ended up looking like different people
when we were all dressed up, especially May and I,
since Grandma Olivia didn't like women to wear their
hair loose and down. She said that it made them look
like witches, so I had to use bobby pins and combs to
wrap my hair neatly, and even May wore a little
French twist. Although the old-fashioned hairdos
added years to our age, we didn't look overly grownup, since makeup was strictly forbidden, even for
Mommy. She didn't even wear lipstick.
Despite all this, I did look forward to going.
Grandma Olivia usually had wonderful things to eat. I
especially loved the tiny cakes with frosting and jelly
in the center, and even now, even though we were
really grown-up, Grandpa Samuel always gave me
and Cary, along with May, crisp five-dollar bills when
we left.
I had one particular dress that always seemed
the most acceptable to Grandma Olivia. It was a navy
blue dress with a white collar that buttoned at the base
of my throat. Although I had other, equally dowdy
dresses, for some reason this one always brought a
smile to Grandma Olivia's grim face.
When I stood before the mirror, I reminded
myself to keep my shoulders back and my head up, as
if I were balancing a book on top. One of Grandma
Olivia's pet peeves was the way young people
slouched. She claimed posture showed character and
embellished good health.
I never told anyone except Cary, but I actually
felt sorry for Grandma Olivia. Sure, she had a big,
beautiful house filled with extravagant furniture,
paintings, and decorations. Her dinners were elaborate
and served on expensive china with fine crystal
glasses and real silverware.
Yet for all her extravagance, her important
acquaintances, and her gala affairs, Grandma Olivia
never looked happy to me. If anything, I thought she
was trapped by her wealth and position. How sad it
must be, I concluded, to go through your life never
letting your hair down, never walking barefoot on the
beach, never just being lazy or having a potluck
dinner, in short, never doing anything spontaneously,
but always first having to go through the proper
arrangements, as if your whole life had to be lived
according to Emily Post.
I knew very