"I want to be as beautiful as you are, but I don't think I will be. My nose is too long and I don't have your soft mouth. My lips are too thin, aren't they?"
"Of course not. Anyway, your features aren't fully shaped yet. Just follow my directions, do the things I tell you to do and you will be very attractive. Will you promise to do that?"
"I promise."
"Good," she said and finally turned to the birthday package that she-had declared was "girl business." "It's time to open this now and talk about it," she said. She unwrapped it herself and opened the box.
I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a bra. My breasts had started to grow lately, and some of my friends were already wearing bras. She held it up between us.
"Your figure is developing and you've just had your first period," she declared. "It's time you learned a woman's ways and learned some things about men."
I nodded, practically holding my breath. Such a grown-up conversation between us made my heart pitter-patter.
"You don't wear this all the time, just on occasions when you will meet elegant people and handsome, wealthy suitors, and when you put this on under your new cashmere sweaters ."
I took the new bra gingerly. My heart was still racing.
"Men, especially men of position and wealth, like to be seen with women who are stunning. It strokes their egos, understand?" She laughed and tossed her hair back over her shoulders.
"I think so."
"Even your father, who is oblivious to almost everything but his ships, enjoys walking into a fine restaurant with me on his arm. Men see women as ornaments."
"But is that good?" I wondered aloud.
"Of course it's good. Let them think what they want, as long as they work themselves to the bone making you happy. Never let a man know exactly what you're thinking." Suddenly she turned to me and her soft face became something cold and hard. "Always remember, Leigh, women can never be as promiscuous as men. Never."
My heart began to beat madly again. She was about to discuss the most intimate things.
"It's all right for men to be that way. It's expected. They want to prove their manhood, but if a woman is that way, she will lose everything important. Nice girls don't go all the way. Not until they're married," she added. "Promise you won't forget that."
"I promise," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Good." She looked at herself in the mirror again and her ice-hard expression melted into my sweet, pretty mother once again. "You have opportunities I never had, if I could just get your father to take advantage of them.
"Did your father take us to Jamaica like I asked him to did we go to Deauville to the races? We have luxury liners, but do we have our own yacht on which to sail to the Riviera? No, he takes us to London three times because that trip can combine business with pleasure ad expects me to cater to the passengers like the wife of a hotel owner or something. I want to go away at least once and be on a real vacation, no business. Nothing but enjoyment. How does he expect me to introduce you to the right kind of people if we don't go to these other places?"
She turned back to me again, her face flushed with anger. "Don't marry a man who is more in love with his business than he is with you."
I didn't know what to say. She had told me so much and overwhelmed me with so many new ideas and things to think about. And I had new questions to ask. When do men start trying to get you to go "all the way" and how do you know which men to trust and which not?
I wasn't ready, I thought and felt a panic coming over me.
Momma stood up and swept toward the door. "I'm so glad we've had this talk, darling, but we have to get dressed now, I'm afraid. You know how impatient your father gets when he has to wait. Everything's a schedule with him. He treats us like his ships. I'm sure he's downstairs in his office pacing about and mumbling to himself."
"I'll hurry."
"No, take your time," she said as if she were unaware she was contradicting herself. "It's good to practice keeping a man waiting for you. Spend time on your hair, put the lipstick on lightly, as I've showed you before, not pressing down, but gently running it over your lips as if you were caressing it with a kiss," she said, demonstrating. "Understand?" I nodded. "Good."
"And don't forget, put on your stockings and wear your new high-heeled shoes that are just like mine. Always wear high heels, they are much more flattering to one's legs," she said.
She started out and stopped again in the doorway.
"I almost forgot. I have another surprise for you," she announced.
"Something more? But you and Daddy have given me so much today."
"It's not another gift, Leigh. It's a trip, a place I want you to see," she explained. "I'm taking you with me this weekend."