Double Trouble: Six; the continuing story of the Crane Daughters
 by Cariad 
 
 

Double Trouble
~Six~
“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Julia asked as she peeked through the door adjoining her room to Holly’s.

“Too scared to sleep in a room by yourself?” Holly taunted.

“Too scared to sleep in my room now that the mansion is sharing the decorations. When the walls were white, the colors were calming… Now,” Julia said, “I need something quiet to get my mind off of all the colors!”

Holly moved from the center of her queen-sized bed to allow room for Julia and her pillow. “Did you learn anything from the precious Theresita?” Holly asked.

“Terrorsita is more like it,” Julia answered.

“Did you learn anything that could help us?”

“I think she’s carrying a Crane baby and passing it off as Ethan’s.”

Holly thought for a minute. “That could be bad,” she said. “If it’s father’s, and they are married, he’s not going to want a bastard running around.

“Is the wedding legal?” Julia asked.

“Considering we’re just guessing that Father married the Terror, I don’t know if we should go down that path—yet. But I’ll deal with Father tomorrow, and try to get some info out of him. What about you?”

Julia grinned. “I’ve been invited to her house tomorrow. But I’ll wait until after we see Mother. And I’ll work some of that Crane Charm on her then.” She rolled over, finding a comfortable spot on her pillow. “Say goodnight, Hollis,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, Hollis,” Holly replied in their age old ritual before she, too shut her eyes—trying not to think of a pair of thick dark glasses hiding very blue eyes.

Julia heard the alarm she had grown used to in their years sharing a dorm room at Weymouth-Hampsted Private Academy for Young Women. She purchased the damn thing for Holly one year for Christmas, and though it was overly annoying, it was remarkably effective. The digital clock was on the base, and above it was a sculpture of the Phantom of the Opera playing the organ, and the alarm sounded to the theme for the Phantom of the Opera. She had thought it was cute when she bought it for her sister, and Holly loved it dearly, but after a week of listening to the chords descend and ascend in half step, Julia was ready to kill it—even though she was never late for class after they had set it up in their room. For a moment, she thought she was still in her dorm at Weymouth-Hampsted, before she awoke and realized she was only in Holly’s room. Her sleep-weary eyes focused on a poster for The Civil War. She groaned and poked her sister.

“Time to get up, Hollis,” she said, shaking the prone body next to her. “Today is a lovely day to stomp out money-grubbing ladies out to get Daddy’s fortune!”

Holly rolled over to her sister’s unusually perky attitude. “I suppose,” she sighed, and stretched her limbs. “Do you think Father will let us go and visit Mama? I mean, openly and not having to sneak?”

Julia laughed. “Of course he has to. It’s practically an order from Grandfather Crane. We have to make sure they keep up the front of an amicable divorce.”

Holly sighed again. “I’m sure Mama will be pleased to see us. Maybe she can help us. And maybe we can help her and Father get back together.”

“You kidding?” Julia asked. “Daddy and Mother hate each other! They can’t be in the same room without bickering. God only knows why the marriage lasted as long as it did!”

Holly sat up, very serious. “But they had to at least have tolerated each other. How else were we born? And what about Aidan?”

Julia rolled her eyes. “They both got drunk twice,” she said. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to think about it.”

Holly grabbed her sister’s shoulders. “Jules, think!” she hissed. “If they didn’t like each other, could Rebecca be right? Could we not be Cranes?”

“I don’t want to think about that!” Julia shouted back. Holly was immediately contrite.

“I’m sorry, Jules,” she said in a whisper. “It’s just some silly thing Rebecca said to put doubts in Father’s mind—and ours.”

Julia hugged her sister and bounded off the bed. “We need to go see Mother,” she said. “And then I get to weasel myself into poor Theresita’s life, and confirm our suspicions!”

Holly smiled a bit but turned to her bathroom as Julia trotted off through the adjoining door.

No matter how livid the former Governor Winthrop had been at his wayward and disobedient daughter, and no matter how much she deserved it, the Honorable Thurston J. Winthrop could not allow his daughter to live in poverty. Therefore, despite having no access to the Crane fortune, Ivy Winthrop Crane still lived comfortably. She resided in a small two-story cottage, just the right size for a person living alone. The downstairs boasted a sitting room, small dining room, a kitchen and a half bath—for guests. Upstairs, there was a lone bedroom and attached bathroom. A balcony overlooked the sitting room and foyer. Standing in the foyer, the Crane daughters caught the first glimpse of their mother. She moved slowly down the stairs, still stiff from her bout of paralysis. The smile on Ivy’s face was unfeigned as both her daughters gazed up at her. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she kissed them both and bade them welcome.

“I would invite you to breakfast,” she laughed, “but Pilar hasn’t shown up yet, and I fear all the recipes I know at the moment are mixed drinks for your father and his friends.” Her voice turned bitter when she spoke of Julian Crane.

“That’s all right, Mama,” Holly said as she ventured into the kitchen. “I can make something simple.”

Ivy smiled. “They’re teaching cooking now at Weymouth-Hampsted?” she asked.

Julia grinned back. “No,” she said conspiratorially, “Holly just seems to be… domestic!”

Both Ivy and Julia shared a laugh, while Holly turned, a pan in hand. “Don’t degrade domesticity,” she said with a smile. “You might not have access to a gourmet chef at a moment’s notice.”

They all enjoyed eggs over easy on buttered toast points. As they were finishing, Holly asked, “Mother, may I borrow some of your old clothes?”

“How old do you want, dear?” Ivy replied.

Holly smiled. “I don’t know. What you wore when you were our age,” Holly answered. “If you have any saved, that is,” she amended.

“I may have a few saved for nostalgia’s sake,” the older woman answered.

“You’re going retro?” Julia asked with an arched eyebrow.

Holly fixed her sister with a glare. “It’s for a trick I’m playing on Father,” she replied.

Ivy focused on her daughters, looking each one in the eye. “What are you girls up to,” she demanded.

Julia tried to look innocent, but failed miserably. Holly, instead, met her mother’s eyes. “We’re bringing down Rebecca Hotchkiss and Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald. Would you like to help?” Holly’s eyes sparkled with mischief, mirrored by Julia’s and Ivy’s.

Ivy gave a content feline smile. At that moment, she was quite proud of her two female offspring—despite the fact that they were Julian’s children. “Whatever is in my power, girls,” she said. “I would like nothing more than to see Rebecca Hotchkiss cleaning my toilets and Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald as far away from Ethan as humanly possible. That girl lies like a snake and slithers her way out of situations. They all treat her as if she’s some sort of heroine. But I know better,” Ivy said with darkened eyes. “That girl is far from innocent.”

Before they could speak any further, Pilar Lopez-Fitzgerald entered, a grocery bag in hand, and proceeded to the refrigerator.

“I picked up what you asked me, Mrs. Crane,” she said as she set the bag on the counter. “I apologize for not being here in time to help you this morning,” she continued, absently noting the twins, “you are not usually awake at this time in the morning.”

Ivy smiled. Her hatred of the daughter did not extend to her most trusted friend, advisor, and personal assistant. “There was no problem, Pilar,” Ivy said. “My girls showed up, and Holly made us breakfast.”

Pilar opened her arms and embraced the girls. “It is good to see you both home,” she said. “I hope you are not up to any trouble.”

“Please, Pilar,” Julia said. “You can see us both, so you know we’re not out to confuse you!”

“We would never try to play a prank on you, Pilar,” Holly added. “Not after that one time when you paddled out bottoms for…”

“Pilar!” Ivy all but shouted. All heads turned to Ivy. “Do you have any idea where my old clothing is?” she asked. “From when I was their age? The girls have a sudden urge to play dress-up again.”

“Not me,” Julia amended, “Just Hollis.”

Pilar led them upstairs and into Ivy’s walk in closet. She pulled down an entrance into the attic and brought them up. She immediately went to an old trunk and opened it, revealing outfits over a quarter century old. Holly dug through the neatly folded clothes. “These are perfect!” she cried as she held up blouses and dresses. She looked up to see Ivy’s bittersweet smile, not knowing her mother was lost in memories.
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Chapter 7
Chapter 5
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