The fatal accidents were eloquent illustrations of the lechery and carelessness that had characterized the lives of all the Stanhope men for generations. The twenty-five-year-old fashion model who was also in that plane must have been along to bait his hook, she thought with uncharacteristic crudity andįrigid disinterest. Six months ago, heedless of his advancing age and bad weather, Margaret's own husband had died while flying his plane toCozumel, supposedly to go fishing. That they had both been intoxicated and their car had been traveling in excess of one hundred miles per hour.
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Years ago when the sports car Margaret's son was driving went out of control on an icy patch of highway, killing his wife and himself and orphaning their four young children. Girl was practically the image of her mother-a shallow, oversexed, frivolous lush who had died eight Margaret Stanhope watched her but said nothing. She helped herself to two glasses of champagne. Seventeen-year-old threw a haughty, challenging look at her and, in a typical gesture of infantile defiance, When Elizabeth saw her grandmother watching, the
Her gaze followed the butler as he offered the tray to Elizabeth, who was wearing a skin-tight yellow sundress with a plunging neckline. Spoiled, spineless, promiscuous, and irresponsible they drank too much, spent too much, and played too much they were overindulged brats who knew nothing of self-discipline. Saw her watching him and reluctantly took iced tea instead of champagne from the butler's silver tray.Īnd his sister were just alike, Margaret thought contemptuously as she studied the pair. Today, however, Margaret Stanhope's mind was not on the view from her veranda or the lofty social standing she had possessed since birth and improved with her marriage it was on the staggering blow she was about to deliver to her three loathsome grandchildren. Like most small communities, Ridgemont had a well-established social hierarchy, 1Īnd the Stanhope family was as firmly ensconced at the pinnacle of that social structure as the Stanhope mansion was entrenched upon Ridgemont's highest bluff. Situated precisely in the center of Ridgemont was a sprawling cluster of red brick buildings that comprised Stanhope Industries, which was responsible, either directly or indirectly, for the economic prosperity of most of Ridgemont's families. Beyond the veranda, in the lush valley below, theĬity of Ridgemont, Pennsylvania, was clearly visible with its winding, tree-lined streets manicured park quaint shopping area and, off to the right, the rolling hills of Ridgemont Country Club. Margaret Stanhope stood at the doors that opened onto the veranda, her aristocratic features set into an icy mask as she watched her butler pass a tray of drinks to her grandchildren who had just returned for the summer holidays from their various private schools.
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