Willow Pond Read Free

aunt’s home she was struck by how opulent and yet homey it was, all at the same time. Somehow, despite her lifestyle, Virginia had managed to create a real home out of the four-story, fifteen room brownstone.
    Virginia embraced her when she opened the door, then ushered her into the living room, which had been decorated in the Art Deco style. During a trip to Paris last year, Virginia had discovered Art Deco was all the rage over there. When she returned, she redecorated the living room and dining room to reflect that style.
    “This room looks great,” Laura said. “Is it the way you want it to be?”
    “Pretty much, though you know I’m never completely satisfied with anything. I suppose you’d call that a character flaw. We could do the same in your—”
    Laura held up her hand. “No, Virginia. Please let me live my own life and make my own decisions.”
    “Of course. I just want the best for you. But you’re a very intelligent young woman. I know you’ll do what’s best for you and Todd. It’s just hard for me to let go sometimes, you know?”
    Laura leaned over and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I wish Phillip understood and felt that same way. He treats me like I have no idea what I’m doing.”
    Virginia snorted, waving her hand dismissively. “Does it really matter what he thinks?”
    It took a moment before Laura finished pondering what Virginia had said. “I know what you’re saying is right,” she said slowly. “It isn’t that I care what he thinks, but the reality is we are still connected through Todd. I don’t want Todd to grow up thinking less of me because Phillip does.”
    “Believe me, Phillip knows how much that little boy loves you. He’s jealous because Todd doesn’t feel the same way about him.”
    Laura giggled as champagne bubbles tickled her nose. “You always make me feel better about myself. How can I thank you?”
    “You can do that by being happy. That’s all I want for you and Todd. Oh, and for you to remember that I’ll always be here for you.”
    “Look at that,” Laura said, pointing at the tears that had filled her aunt’s eyes. “What would Dutch Schultz or Al Capone say if they could see you now?”
    Virginia threw back her head and laughed, sniffing away the telltale tears. “I think they’d probably say I was an imposter, and the real Virginia Kingsley was dead. Whatever you do, make sure this never gets out. I have a reputation to maintain.”
    Laura placed her finger against her lips. “Not a word.”
    “So tell me. What you’ve been doing lately?”
    Laura told her about the article she’d written, and the novel she was starting to put together. “I have no idea whether I’m ever going to finish it, but it’s something I’ve thought about doing for several years.”
    “When you were a little girl you used to write short stories. After your mother and father died I found them in a box in your mother’s closet.”
    Laura flicked an interested eyebrow. “Do you still have them?”
    “Come with me.”
    They climbed two flights of stairs, and when they stopped they stood in a part of the house which was obviously in the middle of being redecorated. The walls were partially painted and the floor was crowded with painting supplies, drop cloths and piles of lumber.
    “What’s going on up here?” Laura asked.
    “You know how much I always hated these four fussy little rooms. Well, I’m having them done over into two large rooms. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to use them for, but I’ll do that when they’re finished.” She took Laura’s hand. “Come with me.”
    Virginia led her into the smallest of the four rooms. Inside was an old rolltop desk that Laura immediately recognized as having belonged to her father. She ran her hand over the top of the desk, imagining him sitting at it. He had died so many years before she felt only curiosity, not grief. Virginia left her to her memories, then climbed onto a chair and slid a box