Casteel 05 Web of Dreams by V. C. Andrews

model her shipboard suite after it. Our suite was decorated in serene neutrals, taupes and honeyed beiges with bleached light-colored woods that all provided the perfect backdrop for Momma's cool blond good looks.
The liner was a floating resort. On one level there were all sorts of shops, including beauty shops and barber shops, drugstores, and boutiques featuring the latest fashions from home and abroad. There was a continuous schedule of activities for guests, including dance instruction, exercise classes, art exhibits and lectures, teas, endless meals, games of competition, shuffleboard, and, of course, once we sailed into the warm weather, swimming in one of the three pools on The Jillian. At night there were dances with
entertainment provided by singers and comedians, and even first-run movies.
Momma slept late every morning, so that Daddy and I usually went to breakfast without her. We always ate with the captain, so when he wasn't available, the first officer, plus guests. Some days, Momma didn't come out of her suite until early afternoon and had her breakfast brought in. Usually she had only a small glass of juice, one poached egg and one piece of toast.
She was very disciplined about how much she would expose herself to sunlight, actually timing it so she would just have some slight color on her face. She had read somewhere that sunlight hastened wrinkling and nothing terrified Momma more than the possibility of a wrinkle appearing. Her vanity table was covered with every skin cream and -dy lotion available, especially the ones that promised eternal youthfulness. Most of her morning was taken up with working creams into her skin and preparing her makeup. She was often in the steam room and scheduled herself a massage every day and a facial once a week.
From the day we left Boston Harbor, Momma complained continually about the devastating effect the salty sea air was having on her hair. She had to go to the beauty parlor almost every day to keep her hair from "kinking." She said the sea air robbed her hair of its softness and chapped her skin because her face was too sensitive. She was rarely on deck in the evening, even when we had sailed into the warmer climate and the evenings were tepid. I thought there were few sights as beautiful as the calm ocean on a warm night with the moonlight painted over the water. The waves bobbed under an unobstructed night sky so dazzling it took my breath away. I was always trying to get Momma out on the deck with me to look at it, but she told me she could see it through the windows whenever she wanted.
Although Daddy was busier than usual on this voyage because it was a maiden voyage establishing a new cruise, he made every effort to spend more time with both Momma and me, always promising to meet us here or there. Momma didn't seem to care if he was with her or not. Whenever he had time to do something with us, she always found something else to do. Daddy and I spent many evenings without her, watching a movie or attending one of the shows. She would promise to join us, but never appear. When I inquired, she told me she was too tired or had a headache. I would find her in bed reading one of her many magazines or scribbling letters. Whenever I asked her to whom she was writing, she would simply reply, "Just friends," and put everything away as if she had become instantaneously bored with what she had been doing.
Even when I sat on her bed and described the singers and the comedians and the activities, she seemed very distracted and not very interested, so I knew she wasn't very happy. And then, one night nearly a week after our cruise had begun, I was awakened by the sound of Momma and Daddy shouting at each other.
"I do everything you ask of me," Daddy complained, "but still you act as if you're suffering. You wanted to remake the suite, I let you and spent the money; foolishly, I thought, but spent it anyway. You're the owner's wife, but do you attend to some of our more