Everlasting Read Free

children came to Everly from their boarding schools, often bringing friends, and the adult Eliots invited their guests to stay the night, because the party always lasted until morning. Every room in the house was full of guests. Kathryn brought in extra help from the town to cook and serve. Children raced through the house, adults danced and quarreled and met for secret love affairs, everyone feasted and celebrated. Kathryn was satisfied that a year’s worth of life went on in her house during those twenty-four hours.
    And tonight even Kathryn, who tended to be absentminded and uninterested in people, actually had guests of her own, P. J. and Evienne Willington. It had just been announced that the Willingtons were bequeathing their staggeringly expansive East Hampton residence, a Gothic mansion and one hundred acres of gardens, to the state of New York, to become a museum and public garden upon their death. Their children didn’t mind, the Willingtons confessed, for they would be receiving all the money and wouldn’t have to be burdened with the upkeep of the estate. And the Willingtons were young, only sixty, so they had many years ahead in which to luxuriate in the gratitude of the state.
    Catherine, Ann, Shelly, George, and Miss Smith stood at the door to the library, gazing at the beautiful room, the shining people. Grandmother Kathryn had had this room and the dining room splendidly decorated, with laurel roping looped over all the oil paintings and mistletoe tied with red ribbon to the chandeliers. Crystal bowls of hard red and green candies were set on every surface. The room was fragrant with evergreen and expensive perfume. The guests were gathering here for predinner cocktails.
    The Willingtons were seated with Kathryn, sipping sherry, discussing the newest breeds of Dutch tulips. Marjorie and Drew Eliot were laughing in the center of a group of friends, the men elegant in tuxes, the women’s gowns swaying, as colorful as a field of flowers.
    Tonight, as on other Christmas nights, Marjorie had adorned her gown with a bit of the same material used for her children’s clothing. Her dress was full-skirted and full-sleeved, made of a vibrant rich gold satin that made the accompanying gold lights in her high-swept hair glisten. Around her waist was the matching red plaid material, tied in an enormous plump bow in the back. Her earrings were dangling, heavy and ornate, unusual for Marjorie, who usually preferred more sedate jewelry.
    Catherine knew her mother looked magnificent. She could tell by the lift of her mother’s head that Marjorie knew it and was glowing from the compliments of others. But she knew she looked beautiful, too.
    It seemed to Catherine that all eyes in the room turned on the four of them as they entered. She saw her father’s eyes widen as he looked at her. He excused himself from his group and approached Catherine and the others, his face beaming with happiness.
    “Merry Christmas, darlings,” Drew said to his children, approaching them and kissing the girls formally on each cheek, then shaking hands with his son and his son’s friend. “You all look wonderful. Come in and join us. Tonight, a special occasion, you can all have champagne. George, I don’t think your parents will object, do you? Catherine, how grown-up you look. It’s too bad there aren’t some young men here for you to dazzle.”
    Their father was leading them into the room when Marjorie came sweeping toward them, glittering but, Catherine realized with a cold shock of dismay, smiling her public smile. Marjorie’s blue eyes were cold. Fear caught in Catherine’s throat like a hard thing she could not swallow.
    “Hello, everyone,” Marjorie said smoothly. “Shelly, dear, take George over and get him something to drink. Drew”—this was to her husband, and as she spoke she touched each person lightly on the shoulder, directing—“take Ann in and show her to your mother and the Willingtons. They’ll be pleased to