Red Leaves Read online

  PAULLINA SIMONS

  RED LEAVES

  Copyright

  Harper

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by Flamingo an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1997

  Copyright © Paullina Simons 1996

  Paullina Simons asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

  Source ISBN: 9780006550570

  Ebook Edition © MARCH 2015 ISBN: 9780007396689

  Version: 2015-03-09

  For my Kevin,

  and for Bob Tavetian,

  you’re in our hearts

  Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright

  PROLOGUE

  I THE GIRL IN THE BLACK BOOTS

  CHAPTER ONE: Sunday

  CHAPTER TWO: Monday

  CHAPTER THREE: Tuesday

  II SPENCER PATRICK O’MALLEY

  CHAPTER FOUR: In the Woods and on the Wall

  CHAPTER FIVE: Close Friends

  CHAPTER SIX: Disposition of the Estate

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Constance Tobias

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Once Upon a Time in Greenwich, Connecticut

  CHAPTER NINE: Red Leaves

  EPILOGUE

  Keep Reading

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by the Author

  Tully

  Eleven Hours

  Road to Paradise

  Paullina’s Website

  About the Publisher

  PROLOGUE

  At Greenwich Point Park, where the saltwater air from Long Island Sound fused with the earthy smell of fallen leaves, two children climbed stairs leading to what once was a castle. They were alone.

  Earlier they had walked past the parking attendant, who seemed to know them well and waved them on with a smile. The park was large and it was a long walk to where they wanted to be, but the sun shone and it was still warm. The girl carried a white-and-red paper bag, while the boy carried his baseball cap and a kite. They walked around the western end of the bay and found a picnic table near the beach. The girl immediately wanted to take off her shoes and feel the smooth stones under her feet, but the boy said no. He wanted to eat first. She sighed and sat down. They ate. The girl didn’t sulk for long; she was happy to be here.

  Afterward, she kicked off her white canvas shoes, stood, and happily headed for the water. Many of the stones were covered with slimy moss, but she didn’t mind. She picked up some of the scattered mussels around the beach and inspected them. She threw down the open ones, remembering what her father had told her: ‘If they are open, it means they are dead and no good.’ She put the closed black shells in her bag. The boy brought over some crabs, and she put them in her bag also.

  For fifteen minutes, they tried to figure out if the moving ripples in the bay about fifty yards away were waves or otters. The girl said they were otters, but the boy laughed. Waves, he told her, just waves. She wasn’t convinced. From a distance, they looked like they had black backs and were diving in and out of the water. They dove in place, so maybe he was right, though she didn’t want him to be right. He thought he was always right. Besides, it would be fun to think they saw otters in their park.

  The girl headed back up to the path. He ran past her, pulling her hair along the way. She moved her head away from him but hastened her step, trying to skip on the stones.

  She was a pretty girl. Her short hair clung neatly to her head. Her impeccably tailored white blouse was starched, and her jeans were ironed and creased. Her white jacket didn’t have any grime on the sleeves as is common for children her age. Her canvas shoes were bleached white and the laces looked new. Taking off her shoes and walking on the slimy moss was the only sloppy childlike luxury the girl would allow herself.

  The girl liked the picnic part and the kite-flying part on the other side of the sprawling park. It was the in-between part that made her slightly weepy. She wished they could be at the green field already, unwinding the kite string. When the kite was high in the air, the girl would let go the string and run after the boy, yelling, ‘Higher, higher, higher…’

  Fall was her favorite time of year, especially here, where the fierce salt wind blew over the red leaves of the white oaks.

  ‘You wanna head right on to the field?’ she called breathlessly to the boy, her voice catching. She stopped to put on her shoes, and he stopped, too, turned around, and walked back to her.

  ‘We are. Instead of what?’

  ‘Instead of going up to the castle,’ she said.

  He stared at her.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I thought you liked the castle.’

  She didn’t answer him at first and then said apologetically, ‘I do like it. I’m just tired, that’s all.’

  He motioned her to come. ‘Come on, don’t be such a baby.’

  She tried not to be.

  They walked on the path between the tall, straight oaks, around to the little boathouse, to the wall.

  The boy hopped up onto it. The wall was only three feet off the ground on one side, but it separated the walkway from the water on the other. Every time the girl climbed onto the wall, she feared that she would fall into the water. And if she did, who would save her? Not he, certainly. He couldn’t swim. Holding hands was impossible. The wall was only twenty inches wide. No, she had to get up on that wall to show him she wasn’t afraid.

  But she was afraid, and she was exhilarated. She already felt moist under her arms. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ she whispered, but he didn’t hear, for he was already far ahead of her on his way to the castle. She told herself to stop trembling this minute, and, sighing, got up on the wall after him.

  Little more than the high-hilled view of Long Island Sound remained of the ruined castle grounds; the view and the tangled walls of forsythia spoke softly of the castle’s once glorious splendor.

  A castle with knights, princesses, armor. A castle with servants and white linen. A castle with secret rooms and secret passages and secret lives. I have secrets, too, the girl thought, taking tentative steps on the wall. The princess in her white dress and shiny shoes has secrets.

  ‘Wait for me!’ the girl yelled, and bolted forward. ‘Wait for me!’

  I

  THE GIRL IN THE BLACK BOOTS

  To our strongest drive,

  the tyrant in us, not only

  our reason bows

  but also our conscience.

  – Friedrich Nietzsche

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sunday br />
  The four friends had been playing two-on-two basketball for only a few minutes, but Kristina Kim was already sweating. She called time out and grabbed a towel. Frankie Absalom, the referee, and Aristotle, her Labrador retriever, both looked at her quizzically. She scrunched up her face and stared back.

  ‘I’m hot, okay?’

  Frankie, bundled up in a coat, ski cap, and blanket, smirked. ‘What’s the matter?’ he teased. ‘Out of shape?’ Aristotle panted, blowing his dog breath out into the cold air. He was not allowed to move during the Sunday-afternoon games, and he didn’t, though in a canine form of rebellion, his tail wagged.

  Jim Shaw, Conni Tobias, and Albert Maplethorpe came over. Kristina took a bottle of Poland Spring out of her Jansport backpack, opened it, poured water on her face, and then wiped her face again. It was a chilly day in late November, but she was burning up.

  Jim squeezed Kristina’s neck. ‘What’s the matter, Krissy, you okay?’

  ‘Come on! Come on!’ said Albert. ‘What are you doing? Stalling for time?’

  Kristina wanted time to move quicker, to fly till one o’clock when she was to meet Howard Kim at Peter Christian’s Tavern. She wanted to get the lunch over and done with, and she was so anxious about it she couldn’t think of anything else.

  ‘I’m out of shape,’ Kristina admitted to Frankie, ignoring Albert’s remark. She let Jim rub her neck. ‘The season’s starting next Saturday, and I’m terrible.’

  ‘No,’ Conni said. ‘You’re fine. Yesterday you were fine.’

  Kristina waved carelessly, hoping no one would notice her flushed face. ‘Oh, that was just an exhibition game.’

  ‘Krissy, you scored forty-seven points!’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But Cornell wasn’t playing all out.’

  ‘I didn’t know they knew how,’ said Jim, now massaging her shoulder.

  ‘What time is it, Frankie?’ Kristina asked.

  ‘Twelve-oh-seven.’

  ‘Come on, you guys, let’s play,’ said Kristina. ‘The teams?’

  The first game was couples against couples. Albert and Conni against Kristina and Jim.

  ‘You okay, dear?’ Jim asked, touching her back.

  She thoughtfully looked at him and stroked his cold cheek.

  ‘Nothing. Hot as hell.’

  Conni shivered. ‘Yeah, I’m sweatin’ myself.’ Squinting at Conni, Kristina smiled, thinking, she’s teasing me. Conni did not smile back. Biting her lip, Kristina said to Albert and Conni, ‘You guys want a handicap?’

  They half-mockingly sneered. ‘Get the hell out of here with your handicap. Put your hair in your face. That’ll be our handicap. Besides, we’re going to win,’ said Albert. Conni didn’t say anything.

  They lost 20-16.

  Kristina was a tall, long-legged girl with a mass of jet-black hair falling into her face and halfway down her back. She didn’t like to tie her hair back. Her raven mane was a distraction to the other team, and during the Ivy League play-offs she had been ordered to tie it up. She did, but by the end of the game the hair was all over her face anyway.

  Here on the driveway of Frankie’s fraternity, Phi Beta Epsilon - one of the least notable frat houses on Webster Avenue or Frat Row, as the Dartmouth students called it - Kristina never tied her hair. They played at an old regulation post with a rusted, netless hoop. Kristina didn’t care. Two-on-two was great practice for her. It made her quicker.

  Today, however, her hands were slippery; they kept dropping the ball, which even the five-foot Conni intercepted from her. Kristina tried to pass the ball from one hand to the other behind her back but she failed completely, and Conni and Albert got the ball and the shot. They all laughed at her, but Kristina’s mind was on Howard; she didn’t laugh back. Usually she could spin in the air as she jumped up to sink the shot. Not today, though she was clearly the best player out of the four.

  At the end of each successful shot, Kristina high-fived Jim and held on to his fingers the way she always did. He let her, but the moment she let go, he let go also.

  Kristina chewed gum as she played. Once when she came down hard on her feet, she bit her tongue. She spit out the gum and some blood with it.

  Frankie kept penalties, shouted fouls, and kept score on a Post-it note. Chewing gum, he sat on a folded blanket, legs drawn to his chest. His ski cap was pulled over his ears.

  When they came back to him, Kristina asked the time.

  ‘Fifteen minutes after the last time you asked me,’ Frankie said. ‘See, each game is fifteen minutes. That’s how I know. In a hurry?’

  ‘No, no,’ Kristina said hastily, pouring water all over her face.

  ‘Come on, let’s play.’

  ‘Give us a break!’ exclaimed Conni. ‘Five minutes.’

  ‘No, I’m pumped,’ Kristina said. ‘The teams?’

  Conni looked at Kristina levelly. ‘Gee, Krissy, I don’t know. What do we usually do after Albert and I lose to you?’

  ‘We play the boys?’

  ‘Now that’s an idea.’

  Kristina wasn’t going to let Conni’s peeved sarcasm get her down. ‘Great. You boys need a handicap?’ Conni was her handicap, but Kristina would never say that out loud.

  Jim pushed Kristina against the basketball pole with his shoulder. ‘I have a good feeling about this game,’ he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. She turned his face toward his and tried to kiss him on the lips, but he moved away from her. There was coolness in his eyes.

  He’s upset about last night, Kristina thought. Later. Later.

  Kristina and Conni beat Albert and Jim 18-16. ‘Wow, you boys came very close,’ Kristina said when the game was over. Jim’s game was off. He ran a little slower, threw the ball a little lower, and didn’t intercept the ball from Kristina or block her. She could almost swear Jim was gritting his teeth as she played, but then she wrote it off as her guilty imagination. Then what is that crunch underneath his jaw with every dribble of the ball? Kristina thought.

  ‘Don’t you patronize us, Miss All-Ivy,’ said Jim. ‘After we’re done here, let’s run a mile and see who’s gonna come close to who.’

  Kristina thought she could run a mile in four flat right about now. What’s the time? What’s the time?

  ‘What’s the time, Frankie?’

  From his sitting position, he glanced up and handed her the watch. Twelve forty-three. Kristina was wet from sweat. Seventeen more minutes.

  In fifteen minutes, Kristina and Albert beat Conni and Jim 40-8. Kristina ran after every ball, marking and blocking even Conni, whom Kristina usually left alone. As if running faster would make the time go faster.

  ‘Good game,’ Kristina said afterward, breathing hard.

  Conni said, ‘I really prefer basketball as a spectator sport. Like when I go to see Krissy kick Crimson’s butt.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re a good sport, and that’s the only thing that matters,’ said Kristina.

  ‘Is it? The only thing that matters?’ Conni asked pointedly, looking at Kristina. ‘Me being a good sport?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Kristina noncommittally.

  Albert stepped in. ‘No,’ he said, putting his arm around Conni and smiling suggestively. ‘There are plenty of other things that matter.’ That made Conni smile and allowed Kristina to grab her backpack off the brown grass.

  ‘I’ll catch you guys later.’

  ‘Wait!’ Conni called after her.

  Coming up to Kristina and lowering her voice, Conni said, ‘I thought you were going to help me, you know - with the - uh - you know - the…’ glancing meaningfully in Albert’s direction.

  ‘Oh, yeah, cake,’ Kristina whispered.

  ‘Shhh…!’

  ‘Shhh… sorry.’ Kristina was quieter, but inside her engine was revving so high she could barely hear herself speak. ‘I gotta go now.’ Now, now, now, her inner voice was shouting. ‘I’ll come by later, okay?’

  ‘Kristina! The nuts, the hazelnuts, they all gotta be choppéd, finely.
It’ll take me forever. And then the icing - come on.’

  Leaning down to Conni’s ear, Kristina said, ‘I have to tell you something about that…’

  Just then Jim and Albert walked over to them, and Kristina didn’t get a chance to tell Conni that Albert hated nuts, especially hazelnuts.

  ‘What are you guys cooking up here?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing,’ said Kristina quickly.

  Conni threw her hands up. Jim laughed, and Kristina tried to move away. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she called out to them, catching Albert’s eye. He was staring at her. She looked away and wiped her wet forehead.

  ‘Wait up!’ Jim caught up to Kristina. ‘Hey.’ They walked in silence down Webster Avenue, to North Main Street, amid the bare trees. Some students on the front lawn of Alpha Beta Gamma House were setting up a huge turkey piñata.

  Kristina was hoping Jim wouldn’t notice how fast she was walking and wouldn’t ask her about last night. He didn’t, but what he did ask was worse. ‘Wanna have lunch?’ Jim said.

  ‘Lunch?’ Kristina was flummoxed. She hadn’t really expected to disappear after their weekly basketball session without Jim’s noticing, but in the almost three years they’d been going out, Kristina had never told Jim about Howard, and she wasn’t going to start now when a new period in her life was about to begin. They turned right at the corner of North Main Street.

  ‘Jim, I’ve just got to write that death-penalty piece for the Review. I’m late with it as it is.’

  He squeezed her neck as they were walking. ‘You got a little time.’

  ‘Yeah? That’s not what you said yesterday.’

  ‘Yesterday?’ He took his hand away. ‘I didn’t see you yesterday, Kristina,’ Jim said pointedly, and Kristina flushed.

  ‘Yes, you did. Yesterday morning.’

  Jim shook his head. ‘No. Not in the morning. Not last night.’

  Kristina tried to suppress a sigh, but it escaped anyway between her dry and tense lips. ‘Oh, yeah, last night. I went to Red Leaves House last night.’

  ‘Red Leaves, huh?’ said Jim. ‘How often do they make you work Saturday nights?’