No Time to Die; The Deep End of Fear by Elizabeth Chandler

Author:Elizabeth Chandler [Chandler, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Murder, Actors, Ghosts, Sisters, Death, Juvenile Fiction, Horror Stories, Family, Interpersonal Relations, Horror Tales; American, Mystery and detective stories, Young Adult Fiction; American, Camps, Dysfunctional Families, Family Problems, Tutors and Tutoring, Problem families, cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents, Teenagers and Death, Actors and Actresses
ISBN: 9781416994626
Google: VXJ10W5olD4C
Amazon: 1416994629
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2000-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

"An excellent idea, Patrick," Adrian said that evening, touching his son's cheek, smiling at him. "Mrs. Hopewell, set a place at the dinner table for Kate."

Eating dinner with the family was the last thing I wanted to do. "Thank you very much, but—"

"You may place her between Trent and me," Emily interrupted.

"I've told you before, Emily," Robyn said, "you don't need to give Hoppy instructions. She is quite capable at her job. Besides, the order for seating people at the table was set long before you arrived here."

"By you, I suppose," Emily replied, "before I was born."

Robyn sent her a withering look.

In the last fifteen minutes, with the family gathered in the beautiful, high-ceilinged room that overlooked an expanse of darkening water and sky, the petty comments had run nonstop. Robyn, who had chosen the armchair closest to her father's, showed considerable skill in undermining Emily's authority in the household.

Emily, responding by positioning herself even closer to Adrian, perching on the ottoman that matched his chair, displayed her own talent for small put-downs, such as reminding Robyn of her age. Both women continually glanced at Adrian, like schoolgirls waiting for an adult to notice and take sides.

Across the room, next to the fireplace, Trent and Brook had their own game going.

"I don't care where anyone sits," Brook said, lounging on a striped silk sofa, his muddy feet on the upholstery, "as long as I get fed."

"Spoken like the well-bred gentleman that you are," Trent remarked. He sat on a matching sofa, but his feet were flat on the floor and his back straighter, stiffer than the furniture.

Adrian, apparently unfazed by these small exchanges, watched Patrick with obvious pleasure. Tearing through the pile of gifts his father had purchased for him in Baltimore, Patrick was acting like a spoiled brat, tossing down each box after seeing what it contained, wanting the next one.

He paused, holding a sleek red car. "I want Kate next to me."

"No," Robyn said. "The matter is settled." "But I want to sit next to Kate! I want to! I have to!" He yanked tissue from the box and threw it at Robyn.

"Patrick," I said softly, unsure whether I should correct him when his parents were present.

Robyn's tan face darkened with anger. "Children who have been raised properly do not insist on getting their way."

"He's only seven," Emily protested.

"And he has such a fine role model in your own son," Trent added from across the room. "With Brook around, whatever would give Patrick the idea that he can have everything he wants?"

Robyn glared at Trent, but Brook smiled, as if he thought his uncle's jab was a compliment.

"Daddy, really," Robyn said, "Patrick must learn his place."

"Louise," Adrian said calmly, "seat Patrick on my right and Kate next to Patrick."

Mrs. Hopewell nodded, her face expressionless as a wig stand.

Robyn blinked her eyes rapidly, as if fighting back tears, which I found a bit weird. She was too old to become unhinged at losing a battle over seats.

Emily pouted beautifully, like a model in a lipstick ad.

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