Foolishness was the prerogative of youth, mused Annette, thus named after her grandmother, great-grandmother, great-great-grandmother, and countless further generations of Bentley women before that. Her mother, with the given appellation Claudia, had never quite recovered from being passed over for the family name, had made a point of illustrating her displeasure in thus naming Annie. The Annettes were nicknamed for convenience; only the eldest living of them had the privilege, at least within personal and familial circles, of using her full title. Annette the current was the great-grandmother of the youngest; grandmother had claimed the more sophisticated Anne, leaving Annie, at twenty-three, with the implicature of six-years-old and pigtails every time she wanted to introduce herself.
All this pomp and nonsense might have been irrelevant were not the Bentley women considered something of a power force, something of a staple in Annie's Connecticut hometown. The town itself was certainly not so small as to be nonexistent, but nor was it any sort of metropolis; it sat firmly in the realm of inconsequential; thus, the women Bentley, therein installed (and quite proudly) since 1654, managed their queendom with ease. Their ambitions continually led them to aspire, their senses of perseverance to achieve, and their thought of hometown loyalty and tradition to believe that there was nowhere further up to go.
Throughout the years, this formidable triad had caused the name Annette Bentley to become the stuff of legend. Exploring the annals of the town yielded a barrage of Annettes: one had been mayor, another congresswoman, yet a third a senator. There had been a Bentley superintendent of schools; Anne Bentley had been the principal of the high school until Annie's sophomore year. Somewhere along the line, someone (Annie suspected the reigning Annette) had gotten the idea in her head that Annie would become the District Attorney. Annie would have preferred to be a chemistry lab rat.
All this overbearing pressure Annie might have surmounted--after all, the Annettes meant well, and for all their regal commanding they listened to Annie's opinion when she managed to convince them that she really was serious--were it not for Claudia. The name "Annie Bentley" was close enough to the family appellation to ensure that Annie was constantly asked, "Are you Annette Bentley's daughter/granddaughter/great-granddaughter?" Annie had always found these questions mildly irritating (she would have liked to be her own person every once in a while, though she admitted it was convenient in that nobody ever forgot her name), while Claudia would have thrived on them. She had never quite forgiven her mother's attempt at convenience, thinking Anne had been trying to cut Claudia out of a dynasty. Claudia desperately wanted to be an Annette, never caring that she still carried Bentley force. There were other Claudias. (Annie was never quite sure whether the reason there were no other Annettes in town was coincidence, out of deference, or because the name itself was a bit outdated.)
At the butt of Claudia's righteous anger at being denied what she felt was her birthright was her daughter, the umpteenth Annette Bentley, whose name was never spoken by her mother without a note of disdain. Claudia had thought that this move would either make Anne collapse with remorse over the disservice she had done to her daughter, or at least fall on her knees and beg Claudia's forgiveness and shower her with assurances of love and favor. But Anne, who had never not loved Claudia, did not collapse, though it did nearly break her noble heart when Annie, through her childhood and teenage years, came crying to the Annettes over why her mother did not love her. Thus Claudia, who never realized she had been offered individuality as well as membership, merely strengthened the alliance she had been looking to destroy, for though Annie lacked any visions of grandeur, she was not unimpressive. But after two decades Annie could feel herself cracking, not under the high expectations of her grandmothers, but under the sheer pressure of her mother's loathing.
And so maybe her scheme wasn't so foolish, Annie mused as what she considered to be true America whizzed past the train window--though she felt the fool. Imagine running away at her age! But this plan was hatched at the hands of all three unified Annettes, the elder two sacrificing their love of tradition on the altar of youth and sanity. Only Claudia was uninvolved, and Annie supposed the only real reason she felt unease was the fear of her mother's formidable wrath. Nonetheless, Annie was not uninspired, and unlike every other Annette Bentley before her, she did not fear that which was different.
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