Page 12 of One Last Night

She blinks, stunned into silence. I’m not sure what her experience is with her previous tutor, but she clearly isn’t ready for me to discipline her like that.

“I need to make sure that you’re not acting in a way that’s going to endanger you and your family. I know you’d rather not tell me about your activities with your beau, but I have to make sure that you’re not in danger. If you are honest with me, I can possibly do that without getting your father involved. If not, then I’m sorry, but your safety matters more than your privacy.”

Her lower lip trembles a little. She frowns and crosses her arms, looking past me at the wall. “It’s Kevin Cartwright. And he’s Robert’s son, not his grandson. And he’s the sweetest boy on Earth, and he wouldn’t do anything like this. He doesn’t even care about the vineyards or whatever rivalry bullshit is going on. He just wants to be with me.”

I resist the urge to correct her language. What she’s just revealed to me is more serious. I am willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment that Kevin isn’t responsible for the attack on the vineyard last night, but I must investigate further if I’m to know for sure. Even if Kevin isn’t the one responsible, it’s still possible that their relationship precipitated an escalation to the feud. Even if they’re both completelyinnocent, they could get caught in the crossfire if things between Julian Bellamy and Robert Cartwright have risen to violence.

So instead, I say, “Very well. I believe you. But there issomeoneout there sabotaging your grandmother’s vineyard. You returned home mere hours from his arrival, perhaps even minutes. Until we know what’s happening, there will be no more late-night excursions. If I catch you sneaking out again, Iwilltell your father.”

Her lips tremble some more, and tears come to her eyes. “Get out of my room.”

“I will,” I reply, heading for the door, “but I mean what I’ve said. Your safety comes first.”

“Too bad my happiness doesn’t count for shit.”

Before I can scold her further, she opens the door, pushes me out and slams it shut behind me. I find myself in the hallway staring at a stunned and very confused Nathan.

“She needs privacy,” I tell him. “So she can get ready.”

He gives me a slow, wary nod, and neither of us speaks further about it.

CHAPTER SIX

Much to Nathan's disappointment, we don't see the horror movie he wanted to watch. I have experienced enough horror that I'm not frightened by those films, but gore and violence turns my stomach even if it doesn't chill my bones. We end up watching an action film that is far less gory, even if it's still rather violent.

Nathan enjoys himself, but Luann is preoccupied. She spends most of the movie texting, keeping her screen dark and hiding it from view. I’m sure she’s texting her boyfriend, but I’ve involved myself in her personal life enough for one day. As long as she isn’t sneaking off alone at night, I don’t need to be involved any further.

Still, I fear what will happen when the truth comes out. And itwillcome out. Secrets like these keep poorly even when handled well. At some point, the parents of these two lovebirds will catch wind of the relationship. What happens then could be messy for all concerned.

When we return home, Julian and Victoria aren’t there. A note left on the refrigerator tells me that they’ve left for their offices to ensure that security for their commercial vineyard is prepared for any threat that might come their way tonight.

The note also informs me that while I was out, their security company visited and upgraded their entire system so that any further incursions onto the property will trigger an automatic call to the police as well as set of lights and sirens to alert everyone inside. I tell this to the children. Nathan replies with the disinterest most children would show in such news. Luann responds by deflating slightly and swearing under her breath. I gather that she was planning on ignoring my warning to stayhome and now realizes that her late-night escapades will have to end regardless.

I leave the children to in their rooms. I don’t love allowing children to spend all day on their cell phones, but I feel a restless pull to the diaries in the library. There’s no logical reason for this, at least none that I can articulate. But in past mysteries, I've felt such hunches, and following them has always led me closer to the answer. So it isn't just idle curiosity. So I tell myself, anyway.

I wait until the children are engaged into the story then excuse myself and head to the library. The safe is still ajar, as I left it the other night. I imagine that Julian’s been too preoccupied to visit the library lately.

I select a different diary this time. Like the first one, it’s old and its pages are faded, but its not so old as the first. I turn to a random page and find the following entry.

New Century’s Day, 1/1/1900.

Well, here it is. A new day. A new month. A new year. A new century.

Same old Beatrice Bellamy. I suppose it was silly of me to expect I would wake a princess today and have the freedom to give my hand to whomever I choose. I guess I hoped that maybe the dream of a child might overcome the dreariness of the woman. Father says I’m a woman now, but really, who decides that someone is grown just because they’ve turned eighteen? I feel no different than I did when I was seventeen and precious little than I did when I was sixteen. But I’m a woman now? I guess so. Mother was eighteen when she was wed and only twenty when she gave birth to me.

I am a woman, but I don't have a choice in who I love. Such bitter irony! I must love Vincent Manderley because he is of "good breeding" and stands to inherit his father's business. I don't know what his business has to do with anything. Jacobwill inherit Grandfather's business one day, and he'll see to it that I'm cared for. And it's not as if Nathan is poor. He's only not wealthy. Must everyone be wealthy? We're wealthy, but Grandmother is sad and father is angry all the time.

And I love Nathan. He’s not foppish and arrogant like Vincent. He’s strong and passionate and so handsome! When I feel his arms around me, it’s like lightning striking me everywhere! When Vincent kissed my hand the other day, it was as though a fish had pressed cold, wet lips to my skin. Ugh!

I won’t settle for a fish, no matter how much money he has. Give me a tall man with the strength of a bull and passion to match!

The rest of the entry consists of several paragraphs extolling the Nathan’s virility and emphasizing how poorly Vincent compares. It’s fairly immature stuff, but the name stands out to me. I wonder if the Nathan in my care now owes his name to a great=great-great-grandfather Nathan? Perhaps things end well for Beatrice Bellamy and her paramour.

I flip ahead and land on an entry dated for December 2, 1903.

Dearest Diary,

I look at myself in the mirror today and try to see the bright, happy girl who once stared back at me, but she is gone. In her place is a woman, a creature far sadder and more hopeless. Can it be that at twenty-two, the best years of my life are already behind me?

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