Part I:
THE AGE OF INNOCENCE

"....how shall I explain? I - it's always so. Each time you happen to me allover again."

~Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence

One

Wendy Thomas sighed as soon as she exited off the interstate, anticipating how good itwould feel to get out of the confines of her car and really stretch. She'd been on the road for thebetter part of the day with minimal stops.

Better yet, I'll just shower and hit the sack, and unpack tomorrow. Yeah, much betterplan.

Something caught her eye in the rearview mirror, and she turned to look over her rightshoulder to see a car barreling past her on the exit ramp toward the turn lane. She edged her carfarther to the left protectively. "What...?"

The car passed and entered the turn lane, barely stopping to check traffic beforespeeding on.

"Idiot," Wendy said under her breath, clenching her jaw in anger and disbelief.

One thing I didn't miss--Milwaukee's insane, defensive driving. More likeoffensive! She'd lived in Milwaukee all her life and she'd learned to merge, dodge,edge out, rev on the line like a race car driver, shoot forward and barrel down with the rest ofthem. But it'd been nice for a little while to be in a town where everyone drove the speed limit,sometimes slower, and actually obeyed safety and traffic laws instead of creating their own, likethose in Milwaukee, so they'd become the rule instead of the exception.

This morning, This morning in the cabin, while she and the other female counselors hadpacked their things, she'd felt a twinge of sadness at the end of her summer job. She'd been awayfrom home for a little more than a month, teaching at a camp for blind children in a small townin Nebraska. At eighteen, she'd been the youngest counselor in the program, but she'd garnered alot of high recommendations from her previous volunteer work.

Even now, remembering the children and her peers, Wendy smiled sadly. She wouldmiss everyone. They'd formed a strong bond, even though she'd learned from experience todetach herself slightly or drown. She'd helped the kids, in some small way, to lead moreproductive, happy lives. In a way I can never help those I know, she added to herself,her thoughts on her mother and her best friend, Jessie Nelson.

She put her mind back on that hot shower and sleep as she neared her home. No morethinking today. Too soon she'd be back into the old groove. Right now she didn't want toexperience guilt for feeling that sometimes she'd just like to be Wendy, the daughter, the friend,the individual.

The streets she knew so well brought her closer to the two-story home she'd grown upin. While the front exterior was classic Georgian, the inside and back were ultramodern. As shezipped onto the three-car garage approach, she sighed again.

Home. Yeah, this is good.

Turning off her car, she forced her cramped muscles to cooperate in getting her out andon her feet. When Grace, the Thomas' long-time maid rushed out, Wendy started to smile ingreeting. But then Grace thrust a yellow slip at her. "Can you pick up the dry cleaning. Yourdaddy needs his tuxedo for tonight. Your mother's got me doing half-dozen things at once.Quisdale annual cocktail party, you know. Insanity."

In shock, Wendy watched as Grace scurried toward the house. She stopped and turnedback before reaching the front door. "Oh."

Wendy waited expectantly for a real greeting.

"Can you also stop by and grab a bottle of wine. I already called it in and they knowyou. They shouldn't card you."

Well, glad to see you, too! Wendy wondered why she was surprised. But thenGrace rushed back and hugged her, just as quickly as she'd run out and dropped a load of errandsin her lap. "It's good to see you home again, hon. I don't know how this house runs withoutyou."

Grace smiled at her, her plump, familiar face too sweet for Wendy to remainwounded.

"Your mom has been asking all day if you're home yet. I'm sure she'll want to see youright away when you get back."

Grace zipped back into the house, and Wendy scolded herself for frowning at her partingwords. People needed her. She'd rather have that than the alternative. Not being needed orwanted by your own parents was something her neighbor and life-long friend Jessie had faced allher life.

With a heavy sigh of disappointment, Wendy opened the door of her car again and slidback into the cramped confines.

Well, I'm glad to be almost home, she thought with good-naturedacceptance.

* * * *

"Tuxedo. And Chablis," Wendy said when she stepped into the kitchen from the garagedoor.

Grace looked up from folding laundry. "You're an absolute doll."

Wendy smiled as Grace took the offerings from her. Despite knowing Grace most of herlife, she hadn't always noticed how different she was from other people. Grace reminded her ofNana, the housekeeper in Disney's animated cartoon 101 Dalmatians, or Edith Bunker.Grace didn't walk. She rushed, scurried, darted. Wendy wasn't sure if she'd always been that wayor if the mistress of the Thomas' house caused it with near-constant needs. Wendy's mother had asubtle way of making it seem that if something didn't get done, she'd suffer excruciating tormentinside her own body at the prospect.

"She asked for you again while you were gone," Grace imparted, and Wendynodded.

"I'll get my luggage out of my car and head right up." Another fifteen minutes, andyou'll be standing under a steaming spray that'll work all these kinks out, she told herself asshe lugged her three, oversize duffel bags up the winding staircase.

With an "Uh", she hefted the bags off her shoulders outside her bedroom door, withoutentering, and headed toward her parents' room at the end of the hall. Her neck, shoulders, backand legs all ached horribly, yet she put on a smile after she tapped on the bedroom door and hermother called out a welcome.

"I can't even dress myself without you," Felicia--as she'd insisted on being called by herchildren--looked at her reflection in the mirror of her vanity. "I spent the whole social seasonlooking like a frumpy old maid."

Wendy shook her head as she glanced at the pile of cocktail dresses on the bed. Hermother sat in a satin slip. "Ah, so Dad locked you in the closet the whole while, huh?"

Her mother laughed as she removed the necklace she'd apparently put on with the lastdiscarded dress. As much as she said she hated social activities, Felicia constantly thrust herselfinto them with her charity activities. Wendy understood why she volunteered so much, but herattempts to feel better about herself rarely worked. The only thing she really enjoyed, just forherself, was her work at Nelson Cosmetics. She worked in the lab, creating fragrances. It waswhere she'd met Wendy's father, who was vice president of the company.

The annual Quisdale cocktail party was an event put on by one of Nelson Cosmetics'biggest clients.

"I just don't have your confidence and poise for these things," her mother said, andWendy temporarily took the comment in the way she initially would a skipping record. Let it goand maybe it would fix itself. "I wish you could go, too, like you did when you were little. Youwere so sophisticated in those velvet cocktail dresses. You captivated everyone."

Wendy remembered those times clearly. She'd felt like a super-computer on display.Show them how smart you are, Wendy. You can out-think anybody here. Isn't she amazing?And she's only seven!

She'd been glad when her parents allowed her autonomy to decide pretty much herwhole life at the age of eleven. The first thing to go had been attending those ridiculous,outshine-the-Jones' cocktail parties.

Shuffling through the stack of dresses on the bed, Wendy chose an off-the-shoulder,white one that shimmered like diamonds. It brought out the sparkle in her mother's beautiful eyesand emphasized her shining, dark hair. As soon as she held it out, Felicia stood, took the dressand put it on immediately.

While she dressed, Wendy chose jewelry, knowing her mother would ask her to pickthat out for her, too.

"Is Dad still at work?" Wendy remembered how she'd watched her mother get ready fora party when she was a little girl. To Wendy, her mother had always been the most beautifulcreature on two legs. She still was. Her name fit her perfectly. Felicia, tiny, lovely and so very,very fragile.

Her mother nodded, turning her back so Wendy could put the multi-tiered, diamondteardrop necklace on her.

"I think he's having an affair."

The only thing that surprised Wendy about the admission was that her mother had said itso soon. She'd uttered the words so often in the past, there were times Wendy wanted to shakeher and scream, "You're the one who's paranoid. You're creating a delusion with it becauseyou're so insecure. Dad would never, ever cheat on you. He's too good a man. And what womancould ever compare to you?"

Felicia seemed to think every other woman in the world was more attractive and a bettercatch. Wendy's father treated his wife like royalty and loved her more than anything else in theworld. In his daughter's mind, he was the perfect man.

Wendy could never confront her mother about her misconceptions though. Felicia wouldprobably shatter if Wendy ever thrust a psychological microscope on her. Instead, she turned hermother toward the full-length mirror and said, "Why would Dad ever want someone else? Lookat you. You're absolutely stunning. Every other woman turns to dust in your wake."

Wendy had said the one thing that could temporarily subdue her mother. Felicia's needfor reassurance was chronic. She had no inner strength at all.

Felicia smiled slightly. "Do you really think so?"

Swallowing hard at the ache of realizing every fix was temporary and she could neverhelp her mother permanently, Wendy nodded with tears in her eyes. "With all my heart."

Her mother turned to her, kissing her cheek and hugging her with a long sigh. "It's goodto have you back. I missed you, sweetie. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're mystronghold and guardian angel."

Wendy took a deep breath, seeing herself in the mirror as if from multipledéjà vu angles. As long as she could remember, she'd been supportingher mother emotionally and building her back up. Felicia couldn't let go and help herself in anyway. It'd been hard enough for her to finally concede to allow Wendy to start school--monthsfrom the age of seven. She'd been a mother to her own mother all her life.

When Felicia backed up, she said, "Well, I better finish getting ready or I'll give yourfather another reason to look elsewhere for companionship."

Knowing her mother felt a twinge of embarrassment for her own neediness, Wendy leftthe room without comment, her chest heavy with the need to cry or roar her frustration. Herfather came down the hallway toward her with his tuxedo in hand. Relieved to have something todistract her from her own sense of helplessness, she grinned at him widely.

Her parents really did make a gorgeous couple. She'd spent her life thinking her fatherwas the most handsome man in the world, though she'd outgrown that in favor of guys closer toher age--ones a little less clean-cut, a little more wild. She still thought he looked better the olderhe got, with the silver streaking his temples and his smile buried in deep, attractive groovesaround his mouth.

"Is your mother ready?"

"Yup."

He hugged her lingeringly, allowing her to relax for the first time since she got home."It's good to have you back, sweetheart. Among the dozens of reasons why is that we're neverlate for anything when you're around."

"I run a tight ship," Wendy said, laughing.

He pulled back slightly. "You're welcome to join us tonight."

She shook her head. Positively, she wasn't going. "I'll probably have a hard enough timegetting Steve to relent in throwing me a welcome home party. I really just want to sleep."

At the mention of Steve, Wendy's brother and his own son, her father's face darkened.Trying not to let his ridiculous disapproval of Steve's choice of college and his class load ofmusic courses instead of business annoy her, she bent to pick up her duffel bags one by one,hoisting them over her shoulders again.

"Would you mind calling the limousine service to confirm, sweetheart? I didn't get achance to yet, and I still have to get ready."

He handed her the phone number and time of arrival, and Wendy took a deep breathbefore letting the heavy bags slide off her shoulders once more. "Sure. No problem."

He started off down the hall, tossing back almost carelessly, "Have some fun, Wendy.Sleep tomorrow. You work too hard. You deserve a night out once in a while."

"Look who's talking," Wendy called back, and he laughed before entering the bedroomand closing the door behind him.

Wendy looked down at the scrap of paper in her hand. Get this over with and thenmaybe I can at least shower.

As she went to the phone on the pickled pine table in the hall, she realized no one hadeven bothered to ask her how her summer went.

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