“Call an ambulance,” Sergeant Dougherty ordered. “Is Mrs. Blackwell home?”
“She should be upstairs asleep.”
“Wake her up.”
As Mrs. Tyler finished phoning for an ambulance, there was a cry from the butler’s pantry, and Eve ran in carrying a pan of water, sobbing hysterically. “Is Alexandra dead?” Eve screamed. “Is she dead?”
Mrs. Tyler took Eve in her arms to soothe her. “No, darling, she’s all right. She’s going to be just fine.”
“It was my fault,” Eve sobbed. “She wanted to light the candles on her birthday cake. I shouldn’t have let her do it.”
Mrs. Tyler stroked Eve’s back. “It’s all right. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
“The m-matches fell out of my hand, and Alex caught on fire. It was t-terrible.”
Sergeant Dougherty looked at Eve and said sympathetically, “Poor child.”
“Alexandra has second-degree burns on her legs and back,” Dr. Harley told Kate, “but she’s going to be fine. We can do amazing things with burns these days. Believe me, this could have been a terrible tragedy.”
“I know,” Kate said. She had seen Alexandra’s burns, and they had filled her with horror. She hesitated a moment. “John, I think I’m even more concerned about Eve.”
“Was Eve hurt?”
“Not physically, but the poor child blames herself for the accident. She’s having terrible nightmares. The last three nights I’ve had to go in and hold her in my arms before she could go back to sleep. I don’t want this to become more traumatic. Eve is very sensitive.”
“Kids get over things pretty quickly, Kate. If there’s any problem, let me know, and I’ll recommend a child therapist.”
“Thank you,” Kate said gratefully.
Eve was terribly upset. The birthday party had been canceled. Alexandra cheated me out of that, Eve thought bitterly.
Alexandra healed perfectly, with no signs of scars. Eve got over her feelings of guilt with remarkable ease. As Kate assured her, “Accidents can happen to anybody, darling. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Eve didn’t. She blamed Mrs. Tyler. Why did she have to come home and spoil everything? It had been a perfect plan.
The sanitarium where Tony was confined was in a peaceful, wooded area in Connecticut. Kate was driven out to see him once a month. The lobotomy had been successful. There was no longer the slightest sign of aggression in Tony. He recognized Kate and he always politely asked about Eve and Alexandra, but he showed no interest in seeing them. He showed very little interest in anything. He seemed happy. No, not happy, Kate corrected herself. Content. But content—to do what?
Kate asked Mr. Burger, the superintendent of the asylum, “Doesn’t my son do anything all day?”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Blackwell. He sits by the hour and paints.”
Her son, who could have owned the world, sat and painted all day. Kate tried not to think of the waste, that brilliant mind gone forever. “What does he paint?”
The man was embarrassed. “No one can quite figure it out.”
24
During the next two years, Kate became seriously concerned about Alexandra. The child was definitely accident-prone. During Eve and Alexandra’s summer vacation at the Blackwell estate in the Bahamas, Alexandra almost drowned while playing with Eve in the pool, and it was only the prompt intervention of a gardener that saved her. The following year when the two girls were on a picnic in the Palisades, Alexandra somehow slipped off the edge of a cliff and saved herself by clinging to a shrub growing out of the steep mountainside.
“I wish you would keep a closer eye on your sister,” Kate told Eve. “She can’t seem to take care of herself the way you can.”
“I know,” Eve said solemnly. “I’ll watch her, Gran.”
Kate loved both her granddaughters, but in different ways. They were seven years old now, and identically beautiful, with long, soft blond hair, exquisite features and the McGregor eyes. They looked alike, but their personalities were quite different. Alexandra’s gentleness reminded Kate of Tony, while Eve was more like her, headstrong and self-sufficient.
A chauffeur drove them to school in the family Rolls-Royce. Alexandra was embarrassed to have her classmates see her with the car and chauffeur; Eve reveled in it. Kate gave each girl a weekly allowance, and ordered them to keep a record of how they spent it. Eve invariably ran short of money before the week was out and borrowed from Alexandra. Eve learned to adjust the books so that Gran would not know. But Kate knew, and she could hardly hold back her smile. Seven years old and already a creative accountant!