Read Online Southern Comforts by Joann Ross - Free Book Online Page B

lightly.
    â€œLaugh if you want to, but the woman is a menace. Would you believe that I found Tillie in the kitchen, watching her television program and practicing folding napkins into the shapes of swans?”
    â€œThat is hard to believe.” Chelsea decided that if the longtime Lowell housekeeper, a woman infamous for having things her own way had actually become a fan, it was no wonder Roxanne topped the NYT bestseller list week after week.
    â€œI nearly had a heart attack,” Deidre, who’d never been known for overstatement, said grimly. “I really don’t believe you should encourage such things, Chelsea.”
    â€œI haven’t made up my mind whether I’m going to take the offer, Mother.”
    â€œAn interview with some self-appointed style maven is not exactly on a par with achieving world peace,” Deidre stated in the superior tone Chelsea knew well.
    â€œTrue enough. But it could be important to me. It could mean a lot of national publicity.”
    â€œThat’s precisely what disturbs me,” Deidre complained. “All this striving to get your name in the magazines. And newspapers. Good grief, Chelsea, you sound just like your father.”
    Despite her frustration, that icy remark drew a quick grin. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
    â€œYou would.” Deidre shook her blond head. “I don’t understand you.”
    â€œI know.” And never had, Chelsea tacked on silently. “And as much as I’d love to try to explain it to you again,you have a facial to get to. And I have to try to track down John Kennedy Jr. I heard the most amazing story this morning—”
    â€œYou know I refuse to listen to Kennedy gossip, Chelsea,” Deidre cut her off.
    â€œI know, but—”
    â€œJoe Kennedy was nothing but a shanty Irish bootlegger who married above himself. Even though Rose was Catholic, she could have done much better.”
    â€œI know you believe that—”
    â€œIt’s the truth. However, speaking of marriage, when are you and Nelson going to start planning your wedding?”
    â€œHow about the year 2002?”
    â€œI do so hate it when you’re flippant, Chelsea.”
    Chelsea sighed. All her life she’d been inexorably maneuvered into an alliance between the Lowell and Waring families. Recalling all too well the acrimonious fights that had shattered her parents’ marriage, Chelsea had feared repeating their mistakes. But whenever she tried to explain her concerns, Nelson would calmly point out that since Warings never fought, she had nothing to worry about. Even knowing that was true, Chelsea was still not ready to take the risk of making their relationship permanent.
    â€œNelson agrees we should wait. If nothing else, there’s my trust fund to consider.”
    â€œI don’t know what was in your great-grandmother’s mind when she came up with that ridiculous restriction. However, it’s not as if you really need the money since Nelson is certainly well off in his own right. And the longer you wait to start your family, the more difficult it will be to bear children.”
    Chelsea decided this was no time to point out that Rose Kennedy was forty-two when the youngest of her eight children had been born.
    â€œI’m not ready to have children, mother,” she repeated what she’d already said so many times before. Although her mother didn’t appear to have a maternal bone in her body, lately she’d begun to display a very strong sense of dynasty. “Right now it’s all I can do to juggle my career.”
    â€œWell, of course you’d hire a nanny,” Deidre said. “If you insist on continuing your work, a child needn’t interfere with your writing. Or your life.”
    â€œI have no intention of handing my child, when I do have one, over to some stranger.”
    Having grown up in the rarified world of nannies and