That would have been a hit, he said, and poured her a glass of champagne and then kissed her.
That's perfect. I'm going to get drunk before I meet your mother. That'll make a big impression on her.
Stop worrying. She's going to love you, he said confidently, beaming at his future bride, as she flashed the much-beloved engagement ring at him. And they kissed long and hard as the car made a right turn off the expressway.
It was another half hour to the house, and it was nearly midnight when they rounded the last bend in the road, and she saw a stately old house, with a porch all around it. Even in the dark, she could see antique wicker furniture set in little groups, and there were lovely trees that shaded the house in the daytime. There was a white picket fence that surrounded the property, and the driver drove them right up to the door and then helped them with their bags. Because of the late hour, they all attempted to be quiet. Jeff suspected his mother wouldn't have waited up for them. With the time difference, it was impossible to have gotten there any earlier and still have been able to put in a half day at the office.
He knew where the key was hidden. He paid the driver and gave him a handsome tip, and then let Allegra and himself into the house carefully. There was a note from his mother in the front hall, on a handsome antique English table. The note welcomed them both, and told Jeff he had his own room, and asked that Allegra take the large guest room on the ocean. The message was clear and Jeff smiled at her apologetically.
I hope you don't mind, he whispered. My mother is very proper. We can leave your bags in there, and you can sleep with me. Or I can sleep with you, as long as we make it back to our own rooms by morning. She was amused by the proprieties, but perfectly willing to follow the directions.
Just like college, she grinned, and he pretended to look shocked.
Is that what you did in college? I had no idea, he said, carrying her bags up the stairs, as she tiptoed behind him. It was kind of fun, being in his house, whispering and trying to find their bedrooms. It was suddenly like an adventure, and she giggled as he walked her past his mother's bedroom. It was a huge, airy room with blue-and-white chintz and a four-poster with heavy curtains. But they couldn't see it that night, the door was firmly closed. In fact, it surprised Allegra that his mother hadn't waited up for them, after they'd come all this way to see her. It was only midnight, and her own mother certainly would have. But she knew Jeff's mother was much older. She was seventy-one, and according to Jeff she always went to bed early.
Jeff led her to the guest room his mother had described, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, and she could hear the waves lapping against the sand. And on a table next to the bed there was a pitcher of ice water, and a plate of small, thin buttery cookies. Jeff offered her one and she took it, and was surprised at how delicious it was. It melted in her mouth and she loved it.
Does your mom make these? she asked, impressed, and he laughed and shook his head.
The cook does.
The room where they were standing was upholstered in a flowery pink fabric, and there were lace curtains on the window, and it had a big white wrought-iron bed, and hooked rugs on the floor. It looked very New England.
Where's your room? Allegra whispered, eating another cookie. She was suddenly starving.
Down the hall, he pointed, still whispering so his mother didn't hear them. She was a light sleeper. And it reminded him of the summers of his youth, when he'd sneak friends into his house at night and they'd sneak a beer or two. His father was always willing to let them get away with it, and his mother always called him on it the next morning.
Jeff led Allegra down the hall to his own room. There was a dark green bedspread and matching curtains, and a narrow bed with a handsome antique headboard. And on the dressers and desk were mostly pictures of his father. There were several maritime paintings that his father had collected over the years. It was a totally masculine room, and in some ways reminiscent of the Malibu house in that it had a feel of New England and of the ocean, but this was far more austere than the house where she stayed with him. And in spite of the pretty fabrics, and antique furniture, there was something cold about it, like the photographs she'd seen of his mother in the New York apartment.
He went back to her room after he'd left his bags in his own, and he gently closed her door and put a finger to his lips. He had closed his own bedroom door before leaving it, and he didn't want his mother to hear them talking at this end of the house. Allegra understood that. They walked on tiptoe, and never spoke above a whisper, and she looked out the window and wished they could go out on the beach. It looked so pretty in the moonlight.
I love swimming at night here, he whispered almost inaudibly. Maybe tomorrow. He didn't want his mother to hear them tonight and they were too tired anyway.
He sat on the bed with her, and they kissed, and after a little while, she brushed her teeth and washed her face, and put on her nightgown. She had brought a frilly one with a dressing gown that looked respectable in case his mother saw her in it. She hadn't been sure what to bring. She'd brought white pants and a brightly colored silk shirt for Saturday, a black linen dress for Saturday night, and a white one just in case something happened to the black one, a bathing suit, shorts and T-shirts, and a seersucker pantsuit for the flight home that looked very Eastern preppie. It all seemed pretty safe. She hadn't known what his mother would be like. She always imagined mothers to be like her own, but not this one. The photographs she had seen of her told their own tale, and she wouldn't have said it to Jeff, but Mrs. Hamilton truly scared her.
He slipped into bed with her, and the sheets were a little damp, as they always were at any beach, and they were of the finest quality and had little white flowers embroidered on them. But Jeff was just happy being there with her. He was afraid to make love to her in the quiet house for fear they would make too much noise, and he just held her until they both fell asleep in the balmy sea air. They slept like children. The only problem was that they didn't wake till morning. He had told himself to wake up with the dawn, but his internal clock must have been set on California time, because he awoke at nine-thirty, and she was still sound asleep and purring. And there was no way to get back to his room without risking that he'd run into his mother.
He peeked into the hall before he went, and then, feeling like a naughty child, he made a dash down the hall, and disappeared into his own room. But he had a feeling he'd made enough noise doing it to let the entire house know that he was escaping from the guest bedroom. And as though to prove it, his mother appeared in the doorway of his room seconds later. He had just put on his dressing gown, and was about to unzip his suitcase.
Did you sleep well, dear? she asked, and he jumped a foot, and then turned to see his mother in a flowered blue dress and a sun hat, and for a woman of her years, she looked very handsome. She had been beautiful once, but not in a very long time, and there was nothing warm in her eyes, even when she saw him. She always kept her distance.
Hi, Mother, he said, and went to hug her. He had all his father's warmth and winning, easy ways. Jeff had always been so much like him. She was far more Yankee. Sorry we got in so late last night. With the time difference, it's hard to do much better than that, and we both had to work in the morning.
It's no problem. I didn't hear you come in. She smiled at him, and then glanced at his bed, still perfectly made from the night before. He had forgotten to open it and rumple the sheets and she noticed. Thank you for making the bed, dear. You're the perfect houseguest.