Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [184]
Francie looked at her dearest friend; it was true he was old, even he didn’t know his true age. Somehow he seemed smaller, his shoulders were stooped but his face was strong, his eyes still glowed with the same energy and there was a wonderful dignity about him. She thought of all he had done for her throughout her life: everything she was, every triumph large and small was because of him. Lai Tsin had been her only good fortune and now he would be her child’s.
She said, “Would you give Lysandra your name? It is an honorable one and it will make me very proud.”
The Mandarin’s eyes widened, first with astonishment and then with pleasure. He took the baby’s tiny, perfect hand in his and he kissed it. “Dearest Francie,” he said, his voice charged with emotion, “you have bestowed upon your old friend the greatest honor of his life. I was a worthless peasant, I had nothing, no wealth, no family, and no love. And now I have all three. I have a name to be proud of and a grandchild to bear it. I am the happiest person in the world.”
The Mandarin was Lysandra’s beloved grandfather for seven years and in all that time Francie kept her promise not to see Buck again, though she thought of him every night and followed his career in the newspapers. She didn’t see him until after the Mandarin died, in 1937, that same fateful week of Harry’s party.
Part V
FRANCIE
1937
CHAPTER 39
1937
Wednesday, October 4th
Lysandra Lai Tsin leapt out of bed on the stroke of half-past six the morning after the Mandarin’s ashes had been scattered on the sea, because even though she was sad, she still could not bear to miss a single minute of the day. She always awoke with the same joyous expectancy that maybe something wonderful would happen and usually it did, whether it was an “A” in math, or sleeping over at her friend Dorothy’s house, or even just her favorite chocolate cake after supper. Lysandra enjoyed life and she met it head-on every day, and she never, ever expected anything bad to happen to her.
That was why it had been such a blow when her grandfather had died, because the two of them had been very close and she just never expected anyone she loved ever to go away.
But today was a new day. The sun was shining and she was filled with her old optimism and bounce as she ran to the bathroom and quickly washed her face and brushed her tangled blond hair, braiding it lopsidedly and tying it with a piece of scarlet yarn, Chinese-style. Then she inspected herself in the mirror to see if she looked any different, decided it was just the same old face and the same round blue eyes and she had not turned into a mature raging beauty overnight after all. Slamming the door behind her and whistling cheerily, she ran along the wide semicircular gallery overlooking the big hall to Francie’s room.
She tapped on the door, waiting for the usual “Come on in, baby.” Ever since she was little, as soon as she had awakened, she had evaded her amah’s grasp and run to Francie’s room to climb on her bed and share her morning tea and toast. Francie liked her toast simply buttered, but Lysandra always slathered hers with the peach preserves put up every summer by Hattie, the cook-housekeeper at the ranch. Then she and Francie would walk down the street for their usual daily swim in the Fairmont Hotel’s pool. Francie said it was the only thing the Fairmont had over the Aysgarth Arms, but personally Lysandra preferred the glossy silver-and-green art deco cocktail bar at Aysgarth’s to the Fairmont’s canopied swimming pool.
But today there was no reply from Francie’s room and she opened the door and peeked in. With an “oh” of alarm she saw the towering four-poster had not been slept in. The blue brocade curtains were still drawn, the lamp still burned and the Morisot portrait of the little girl on the gilt easel on the bedside table glowed like an icon in the soft light.
Lysandra glanced around, calling Francie’s name as she inspected the dressing room with its crowded closets, and the mirrored bathroom with