Deep in the Valley by Robyn Carr Page A

princess for this one. For tonight you can wear the princess crown and tinkle the bell for the servants, and next time we’ll poke around this big old house and see if we can find you a proper gown.”
    “But not like hers,” Sydney said, pointing at Jessica. The room howled with laughter.
    “It’s not for everyone,” Jessica said, not offended.
    “No, you don’t want that much jewelry,” Myrna agreed. “Maybe something a bit more like Cinderella? All right then! Come, come, let’s crown you.” Sydney allowed Myrna to put the tiara on her head, and she sat cautiously on the cushions. The bell remained on the floor. “Very nice. Tinkle the bell one time for the drinks and hors d’oeuvres.” Sydney complied, and as she did, her smile grew.
    “I told you your daughter would love Aunt Myrna,” June whispered to John. “When I was growing up, my favorite thing in all the world was to come to Aunt Myrna’s and look through her collections. I don’t believe she’s ever thrown a thing away.”
    Amelia bore the drinks—apple cider or white wine. Endeara bore the appetizers. They wore their black serving dresses with white aprons and white caps, like clones, wearing identical frowns as they passed among the guests.
    “Good evening, Amelia, Endeara,” everyone in their turn uttered softly, but neither maid bothered to respond. When things were passed around, they moved silently back into the kitchen.
    “Things haven’t been going all that smoothly in the kitchen,” Myrna confided. “But I think they’ll manage to get the meal served just the same. I’ve been doing a fair part of the cooking myself. And tasting. I must say, it’s the best I’ve had.”
    Judge Forrest bit into a crab petit four and made a sour face. Wrinkled as he was, it looked as though he’d just conjured up a few more lines. The rest of the room paused with their hands midair, then slowly returned the little square appetizers to their small plates. Myrna seemed not to notice. “I don’t know if you’ll like this Princess Sydney,” she said. “It’s very much an adult food.”
    “But I do like it,” Sydney said, taking small bites of her square. She, too, made a face, but was having such fun, she’d never admit it tasted awful. She was a little girl; she’d eat mud pies.
    “Not to worry,” June whispered to John and Susan. “It might taste bad, but it’s not dangerous.”
    “Splendid!” Myrna exclaimed to Sydney. “You’re a princess of excellent tastes! I should have known!”
    Sydney giggled happily.
    The dinner was horrible, almost completely inedible. Judge grumbled to Sam, “You’d think she’d get a decent cook, since she can afford it!”
    To which Sam said, “That’d sure take all the fun out of it.” Everyone at the table was accustomed to Myrna’s ghastly meals, except the Stones—and they had been warned. But no one in Grace Valley would refuse one of her invitations. Myrna was the most interesting person in the valley.
    The coffee was good and the torte was passable.The conversation, on the other hand, was delicious. Judge Forrest, who still sat on the bench, had utterly no discretion and told tales of the last week’s cases: feuds, battery, drunk driving, one contested will. “I think you’d call it a perfect week. It was my pleasure to put Gus Craven behind bars, with no work program and no time off for good behavior.”
    “It’s about damn time,” Elmer said.
    “If there’s a God, Gus’ll lip off to some big bruiser in jail and get his skull cracked open,” Charlotte said.
    “We’ll have to check on Leah,” Birdie added, and withdrew from her purse a small notebook in which she kept track of her endless commitments. “Susan, if I give you a call sometime, can I persuade you to do some charitable work?”
    “Of course,” Susan said. “I’m partial to charities that cater to the needs of women and children.”
    June whispered to John and Susan, “Gus Craven has been beating up on