then, Celeste. You don't mind being our chauffeur, do you, Wade dear?"
"What's new about that?" he quipped, and she laughed.
"Oh, you're just going to love us," Ami said, and practically pushed me into the car. She closed the door quickly and sat back to catch her breath. She saw the way I was gazing at the old orphanage, and I knew that it displeased her.
However, I couldn't help it. The cold stone front somehow had become so familiar and
comfortable, I felt like I was leaving an old friend. For most of the last year I had been the oldest girl there, and often I found myself -acting more like a house mother. I didn't mind it so much. In fact, I wondered how sad the other girls would be when they learned I had left.
"You're not even a little unhappy about leaving that place, are you?" she asked, a note more of fear in her voice than of disgust.
"It's been home for a long time," I said. It was the last place I had ever seen Noble, too, I thought; although now the vision was foggy in my mind.
"Oh, it hasn't been a home. It's been a . . . a place. You're about to enter a home," she said, almost snapping at me. She smiled quickly. "At least, I hope with all my heart that you will believe that, Celeste," she added in a far softer tone of voice.
Me too, I thought.
But somehow, despite all the time that had passed and how much I had grown and learned, the concept of home still remained very vague. It was more like a partially formed dream, a flurry of images yet to be connected, feelings yet to be felt, promises yet to be kept.
On the ride to their house, Ami told me about her own youth, the places she had been with her parents, and her schools. She described her social life in great detail, especially the grand parties. Then she listed her boyfriends. She began when she was only ten. It amazed me how she remembered their names and the order of their appearance. She was up to twenty when she paused.
"I was never long without a boyfriend," she bragged. "My father used to say he should have named me Honey because there were so many boys buzzing around our house."
"Bees aren't attracted to honey. They make honey," Wade said.
"Whatever. Don't be so pedantic," she chastised, and then turned to me. "Wade and I met at my coming-out party, but I didn't fall prey to his charms immediately. He had to work on me, but he was persistent, no matter how difficult I made it for him," she said. "And I did make it difficult," she said, raising her voice.
"Difficult's her middle name," Wade quipped.
"Very funny. He had to do a lot to win my hand in marriage, and even more to win the rest of me," she added with another giggle.
I saw the back of Wade's neck turn crimson.
"Stop it, Ami," he warned.
"I will not stop it. I'm going to begin giving her the benefit of my experience immediately." She turned to me, her face very serious. "You must never let a man think you're easy, no matter how much you want him. Once a man takes you for granted, he forgets all his promises."
"Oh, brother," Wade moaned. "Celeste, I don't know what you know about men and what you don't, but you better get a second opinion on everything she tells you. Consider it the same as a medical problem. You need a second opinion."
Ami laughed. Then she leaned toward me to whisper.
"He'll never admit it, but I was his only real girlfriend."
She sat back, smiling.
"Where are we going?" I asked, the realization striking me that I didn't know the name of the town or city. I wasn't even paying attention to what direction we were heading. "I mean, where is your home?"
"Our home, Celeste. From now on, call it our home. Peekskill. We live outside of Peekskill because that's where Wade's company is located," Ami said. "The school you'll attend is just south of us about, what, Wade? Five miles?"
"About," he said.
"How will I get there every day?" I asked. From the orphanage, I just walked to the public school. "Is there a school bus?"
"There is, but I'll take you every morning," Wade said. "Drop you