Family Bible
While Brianna Macy did not marry Edward Teunis, scion of Teunis Brothers Publishing, solely for his money, she admitted to herself that his wealth did play a role in her accepting his proposal. As a former swimsuit model, the statuesque blonde had many suitors for her hand, all of whom she turned down. Of course, Edward was not the only rich man to pursue her. Rock stars, actors and athletes had all competed for her attention, but none of them had the family pedigree that her husband had. The Teunises could trace their roots back to the early settlers of New Amsterdam, and for a girl born into a middle-class family from a small town in Warren County, New Jersey, it was a giant step up the social ladder.
The June wedding was held in Manhattan's Trinity Church. The couple took their vows with Alexander Hamilton buried only a few yards away and three-fourths of New York society in attendance. The bride was stunning, dressed in a gown designed especially for her by one of the world's top fashion designers. Naturally, the media was out in full force. Photographers fought over the best vantage points from which to photograph the shapely model. Meanwhile, the sedate groom, a history professor at Columbia University, looked on with amused pride.
The reception was held in the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel. Brianna was mildly disappointed at the choice of venue, finding it difficult to limit the guest list to seven hundred people. But the groom's family, who were paying for everything, were adamant. Of the seven hundred guests allotted, only two hundred were friends and family of the Teunises. The remaining five hundred were A-list celebrities invited by the bride. Even the entertainment was the finest money could buy: a five-time Grammy-winning singer, accompanied by musicians from the New York Philharmonic.
It was nearly midnight when Brianna tossed her bouquet into the crowd of single women and was then whisked away to board a private plane to Bora Bora for their honeymoon. The wedding, the star-studded reception and the two-week stay in an exclusive beachfront villa were to be the start of a fairy-tale marriage. Unfortunately, not all fairy tales end with "they lived happily ever after"!
* * *
When the newlyweds returned to New York, Brianna officially moved from her 2.800-square-foot Tribeca loft to her husband's nineteenth-century brownstone on Amsterdam Avenue.
I'm going to miss the galleries, boutiques and restaurants of my old neighborhood, she thought, pouting.
She did not regret marrying Edward. Nevertheless, she had no intention of becoming a typical college professor's wife. The idea of hosting dinner parties for his fellow faculty members made her cringe. At twenty-nine, she knew her modeling days were coming to an end. Agencies wanted them young, ideally between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one. Necessity thus dictated a change of career.
I may be over the hill when it comes to being a runway model or cover girl, but I've still got my looks and my figure.
Acting seemed the next logical step. Former models such as Demi Moore, Cameron Diaz, Cybill Shepherd, Uma Thurman, Sharon Stone, Jessica Lange and Halle Barry all made successful transitions from modeling to the silver screen. While she may never reach the heights that Charlize Theron, Julia Roberts or Angelie Jolie attained, she would be content to follow in the footsteps of Brooke Shields, Tyra Banks, Rebecca Romijn or Aly MacGraw.
By November, she had gone on more than sixty auditions but had yet to get a role. Still, she did not lose heart.
"Aren't you packed yet?" Edward asked when he saw his wife sitting on the sofa, reading the latest issue of Vogue. "I'd like to get an early start in the morning to avoid the traffic."
"Where are we going?" she wondered.
"To spend the holiday with my grandmother. It's a Teunis tradition to spend Thanksgiving in Massachusetts."
Although Edward's ancestors were among the early settlers of New Amsterdam, when the British took control of New York during the Revolutionary War, the Hendrick and Jan Teunis—both staunch patriots—relocated to New England. Once the war ended, Hendrick went back to Manhattan, where he started what would become one of the largest publishing companies in America. His brother Jan remained in New England, eventually opening a Boston branch of the company.
Brianna vaguely remembered Edward mentioning his Thanksgiving Day plans, but it had since slipped her mind.
"I'm sorry. I've been so busy preparing for and attending auditions that I hadn't realized Thanksgiving was this Thursday. I'll go pack now."
The prospect of waking early and taking a long drive to New England did not appeal to her. She would just as soon stay home and watch the parade on TV. Besides, she was not one for holiday feasts. In her modeling days, she would have limited her Thanksgiving intake to a few slices of turkey breast. Forget about the mashed potatoes, gravy, pumpkin pie and all the other calorie-laden side dishes and desserts. However, given that she had been married for less than a year, she was still in her newlywed frame of mind and wanted to please her husband.
Cornelia Teunis, the family matriarch, was ninety-six years old and still serving as Chairman of the Board of Teunis Brothers Publishing. She reminded her grandson's new wife of the indomitable Rose Kennedy, who lived to the ripe old age of one hundred and four.
Does that mean I'll have to make this annual pilgrimage for the next eight years? she wondered with dread. Hopefully, by next November, or the one after at the latest, my acting career will have taken off, and I'll be bouncing back between New York and Hollywood. I'm sure Edward wouldn't expect me to travel across the country to celebrate Thanksgiving, family tradition or not.
Bentley, the elderly butler, answered the door. A genuine smile lit up his face when he saw Edward on the doorstep.
"Always a pleasure to see you, sir."
"Same here, Bentley. A happy Thanksgiving to you."
"To you as well, sir. And to you, Mrs. Teunis."
"You would think your grandmother would give him the day off," Brianna muttered as they made their way to the drawing room where the family had gathered.
"Once dinner is served, he'll be free to go. He'll spend the rest of the day watching football, no doubt."
"There you are!" Cornelia exclaimed, raising her arms to embrace her grandson.
"Grandma!" he cried, greeting her with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek.
"And your lovely wife. Hello, Brianna," the old woman added with slightly less enthusiasm.
"Grandmother," the former model said, making no attempt to embrace her.
"The meal won't be ready for another twenty minutes, so sit down. Would either of you care for a cup of eggnog?"
Edward readily accepted, but his wife, knowing actresses needed to watch their figures almost as much as models did, declined.
Brianna looked around the room and recognized the faces of the other guests, all of whom had attended Brianna's wedding. There were Edward's parents, Regis and Nicola; his Aunt Lillian Hegarty and Uncle Ira; his cousins Marjorie and Janet and their husbands, Lorne Pendel and Harold Yetter, respectively. Also in attendance was Cornelia's late husband's unmarried daughter from his first marriage, Ainsley Dunnet (Nash Teunis took his second wife's name when they were wed).
After Bentley announced that dinner was served, Cornelia took her place at the head of the table. Opposite her, at the other end, was Edward, the "heir apparent" to the Teunis family fortune. With no assigned seating, Brianna chose a chair beside her husband.
The meal that followed was a true feast, but Brianna ate sparingly.
"Come on, have some candied sweet potatoes," her husband urged. "They're delicious."
"They're also fattening."
"So? You're not a model anymore. You don't have to starve yourself to look like a beanpole."
Finally, after what seemed to Brianna like hours of watching Edward's family gorge themselves, the meal came to an end. The family returned to the drawing room where Uncle Ira turned on the large-screen TV to watch ESPN. His sons-in-law joined him. Lillian and Ainsley, having stuffed themselves, were soon dozing in the comfortable chairs. The remainder of the guests chose to play Monopoly rather than watch football.
"Brianna," Cornelia softly called to the bored woman who was staring out the window, eager to return to New York.
"Yes?"
"Come upstairs with me. I have something for you."
Curious as to what it could be, she followed the old woman upstairs to the master bedroom. Cornelia opened a cedar chest at the foot of the four-poster bed. Lying on top of a hand-sewn quilt was a large, leather-bound book. Engraved on the cover, in gold letters, were the words TEUNIS FAMILY BIBLE.
"Here," she said, handing the book to Brianna, "I want you to have this. It's very important you keep up with all the births, deaths and marriages in the family and that you pass it on to the next generation when you get old like me."
"Shouldn't you give this to your daughter-in-law?"
"You've met my son and his wife. I love them both dearly, but they're not reliable people, always going off on a vacation or throwing a party. Honestly, I'm amazed they managed to raise such a perfect son. No, when I die, Edward will get everything: the publishing empire, this house and various investments. Naturally, I'll leave a substantial amount of money to my son and daughter-in-law, as well as to my daughter and son-in-law and their two daughters. But my grandson will inherit the bulk of the estate. That's why I want you to be the keeper of the family bible."
She then opened the aged book to the back section where Teunis marriages from both the New York and Boston branches of the family were recorded. The first was dated June 18, 1643. The last entry was made in June.
"See? I've already written in your marriage to Edward."
The old woman skipped several pages to the births section.
"Joris Teunis," she read with reverence. "He was the first Teunis born on American soil. Of course, it was English soil back then."
What followed was a long list of babies born into the family. Not all of them had lived long lives. Some had died in infancy. The last recorded birth was Janet's.
"I imagine it won't be long before Marjorie's baby is born. She's pregnant, you know. You'll have to record the child's birth here. Hopefully, you'll have a little one of your own soon."
Lastly, Cornelia turned to the final section of the bible. Larger than both the births and marriages sections, it included a long list of the deaths in the family. The first one recorded was Joris's mother, who passed away when the boy was only four years old. The most recent was Edward's grandfather, Nash Teunis née Dunnet. In between were written hundreds of names, dates and causes of death, ranging from cancer and tuberculosis to heart attacks and influenza. Many women died in childbirth, and numerous men were killed in battle.
"At one time, we were a large family. Now, there's only me, my children and my grandchildren. I imagine you'll be writing my name in this book before long."
Brianna was not about to contradict her husband's grandmother.
Why deny the obvious? She's an old lady. In all likelihood, she'll be the next to die. She's ninety-six for Christ's sake! How long does she expect to live?
"Here, take it," Cornelia insisted, forcing the bible on the unwilling woman.
"But I'm not a very religious person," Brianna protested—she was, in fact, an atheist.
"It doesn't matter. This isn't a question of reading the scriptures. It's a matter of keeping the family history."
Reluctantly, the newlywed bride accepted the book, but she had no intention of writing any names inside it.
* * *
Upon returning to their New York apartment, Brianna unpacked her bag, putting her clothes in the laundry hamper and tossing the Teunis family bible into a box of little—used handbags at the bottom of her closet. It remained there, untouched, for the next five years.
During that time, Marjorie Pendel gave birth to a baby boy. A year later, her sister, Janet Yetter, had twin girls. Eighteen months after the twins' arrival, Edward's father, Regis Teunis, passed away. Lastly, only six months from the day her son breathed his last, the family matriarch died. Not once in all that time did Brianna open the pages of the bible to record the events.
In all fairness, the former model had other things on her mind. She attended one audition after another, both on the East Coast and the West. In those five years, she was given three parts on television, none of which exceeded six minutes total screen time. As beautiful as she was, no one wanted to give her a good role.
"I don't get it," she complained to Arlo Tuft, her agent. "I've had hundreds of auditions. Why haven't I gotten more acting jobs?"
"Have you ever thought of taking acting lessons?" he asked diplomatically, not wanting to come out and tell her that she simply could not act.
"I'm not expecting to be Meryl Streep! I don't want to play Lady Macbeth, for Christ's sake! All I'm asking for is a recurring role on a sitcom, a supporting part in a Netflix limited series or even a guest-starring appearance in some detective drama. Hell, most everyone in Hollywood has appeared in an episode of Law & Order. Why can't I?"
"I'm trying," Arlo maintained. "Look, there's going to be a new reality series on ABC. They want to feature professional models showing average women how to apply makeup correctly. I think I could get you to appear on one of the episodes."
"Being myself on a reality show is not acting."
"I'm sorry, but it's the best I can do."
The following week, when Brianna was giving serious thought to firing Arlo and hiring a new agent, Edward informed her that he was leaving Columbia at the end of the term.
"Where will you go? What will you do?" she demanded to know.
"I'm moving into my grandmother's house, and I'm going to assume the position of CEO and Chairman of the Board of Teunis Brothers."
"But I don't want to go," Brianna whined. "I don't like New England."
"I'm sorry, but with my grandmother and father both gone, I'm the next Teunis in line."
Thus, her dreams of having an acting career came to an end, and her life became unbearably boring.
"Perhaps I should redecorate the house," she mused one night at dinner. "Get rid of all your grandmother's old furniture and replace it with more modern pieces."
"That's out of the question," Edward firmly responded. "What you call 'old furniture' are priceless antiques that have been in my family for generations. If you want something to do to fill your time ...."
Brianna knew what her husband was about to say, and she immediately cut him off.
"I'm not ready to have kids."
"Why not? Let's face it, you're at that age where your biological clock is starting to tick louder and louder."
"So, I'm supposed to go through nine months of pregnancy, endure the excruciating pain of childbirth so that you can have an heir to live in this mausoleum and run your stupid publishing company."
"Are you forgetting that my family's stupid publishing company allows you to continue to live in a manner that you became accustomed to when you were still modeling despite your having run through your own fortune more than a decade ago?"
"Do you have to throw it in my face that you're the one who pays the bills?"
Edward was immediately contrite.
"I'm sorry. I don't want to fight with you. But it's important to me to have children. I know you're not the motherly type. I'm not expecting you to suddenly develop maternal instincts and take care of a baby. I'll hire a nursemaid for that. But you're my wife. I want a legitimate heir."
"I'll think about it," she lied and got up from the table, leaving him to eat his meal alone.
* * *
Over the next eight months, the marriage rapidly deteriorated. Edward spent long hours at his Boston office, only coming home late at night, after his wife was asleep. They no longer went out to restaurants, attended concerts or plays, spent romantic weekends in out-of-the-way country inns or enjoyed long vacations together. Unless his wife finally agreed to have a child, he was not willing to change things.
On one of his rare evenings home, Edward sat in the dining room, enjoying the dinner his cook had prepared for him. When Brianna sauntered into the room, he put down his glass of wine and looked up at her, expectantly.
"Did you want something?" he asked.
"I'm going to New York for the weekend. I want to meet with Arlo Tuft, my former agent, about a possible TV role."
"Go ahead," he stated nonchalantly and continued eating his dinner.
Brianna went to her bedroom—since moving to Massachusetts, the couple slept in separate rooms—and began to pack. She was looking for a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes in the bottom of her closet when she found the box of little-used handbags that she had brought with her from New York hidden behind a full-length evening gown.
I really ought to get rid of these.
She pulled out the box and discovered the family bible.
I forgot all about this thing. Let Edward have it. He's the one who's so gung-ho on his family legacy.
When she tossed the bible onto her bed, it fell open to the list of births. Her attention was drawn to the last three lines where the births of Edward's nephew and twin nieces were recorded. She picked up the book and thumbed to the next section. The deaths of her husband's father and grandmother were written there.
"Who wrote this?"
Using her finger as a bookmark, she returned to the dining room where Edward was finishing his meal. She slammed the bible on the table, rattling his wine glass.
"Explain this!" she shouted.
"It's a bible," he answered sarcastically. "What are you doing with it? Have you suddenly found religion?"
"You took this book out of my closet and recorded your father's and grandmother's names."
"One, I didn't know you had this book. And, two, I never go into your bedroom, much less your closet."
"It had to be you. No one else would care about when your nephew and nieces were born or when your father and grandmother died."
"I'm telling you it wasn't me."
"I know what this is!" she screamed, her eyes filled with suspicion. "You're gaslighting me."
"Gaslighting?" Edward echoed and burst into laughter.
"You want me to think I'm going insane."
"Sweetheart, if you believe I'm gaslighting you, you're already off your rocker."
Furious at his insults, Brianna, in a rage, picked up the steak knife and plunged it into his chest.
As if written with an invisible pen by an unseen hand, letters slowly began to appear on the page of the bible, spelling out Edward's name below his grandmother's.
"No! This isn't possible!"
She picked up the bible, staring in horror as the unearthly writer, rather than adding the date and cause of death for Edward Teunis, began writing another name on the next line: B-R-I-A-N-A.
The aspiring actress's scream of terror was eclipsed by one of agony when her husband summoned the strength to pull the knife from his chest and thrust it into her throat. Shortly thereafter, the unhappy couple breathed their last, and the mournful ghost of Cornelia Teunis slowly closed the cover on the Teunis family bible.
Salem is proud of his ancestors, going all the way back to Midnight, the first witch's familiar born in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.
