Click.
What? Her hands shook as she turned off her phone. Anna Perry? Then it hit Jacqui: She'd been caught--or at least Anna thought she'd caught her. It was almost comical. After a summer of stealing kisses with Philippe, she'd been caught after they'd already stopped seeing each other.
Jacqui sighed, realizing what this meant: She could kiss that job in New York good-bye. No more working for the Perrys over the school year, no more Stuyvesant, no more college. She had risked everything, just for some guy. Some guy who wasn't even worth it. Some guy who was obviously having an affair with their employer. Her whole future--down the drain.
She looked out the window, frightened as lightning lit up the sky. She dialed another number, hoping against hope that the person she called would pick up the phone.
Fifteen minutes, passed, thirty, then almost an hour--the car was being rocked back and forth by the wind. She had to get out of there, or the car was liable to be carried away by a flash flood soon.
Finally, just as she'd given up hope, the headlights of a hulking
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Lincoln Navigator appeared out of the fog. A boy wearing a yellow slicker ran to the side of the Toyota.
"You all right in there?" Kit called from under underneath the hood of his windbreaker.
She nodded. He helped her out of the car. The water was ankle deep as they waded through to the behemoth SUV. Kit secured Jacqui's door and ran around to the driver's seat. He grinned at her when he climbed back inside.
"Thank you so much," Jacqui said. "I'm so sorry to bother you."
"Not a bother at all." Kit smiled.
Jacqui returned his smile, and for the first time felt butterflies in her stomach. Maybe it was simply her relief at finally being rescued, but Jacqui couldn't stop smiling as Kit navigated his way through the flooded roads.
He explained that all the roads back to East Hampton were blocked, and they were better off going back to his parents' place in Wains cott. They arrived at the Ashleigh compound, the only lit-up house on the street. While the acreage surrounding the property was enormous, the house itself was just a tidy modern box--a long, squat concrete terminal with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into the ocean. Kit explained that his dad's best friend was a famous architect and had designed it. Apparently, it was small enough--just two thousand square feet--that the European generator they'd installed could power the whole house for weeks.
Kit drove the car into the adjoining garage and led Jacqui into
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the house through the kitchen, where his mother was cooking dinner on the Viking stove in an open loft-style kitchen. Unlike the Perry house, the Ashleigh house was a real home--someplace where people lived, not just a showcase.
There was a huge black canvas on the wall that could only be a very expensive piece of art, and a few spare wool couches and leather-and-chrome chairs, but there was a newspaper disassembled on the coffee table, and dog hair on the couch, and mugs of coffee on the side tables. The shelves were lined with books, and only a few framed platinum records in an unobtrusive nook hinted at Kit's father's prominence in the music industry.
"Hi, dear. Oh, is that your friend?" Kit's mother asked pleasantly. "Awful out there, isn't it? You must be freezing. Christopher, darling, why don't you give Jacqui a sweater and pants from my closet so she can change?"
There was none of the frantic confusion or unorganized panic of the Perry home, and no towels under the doorways, either. The house was built like a bunker--it was an oasis of art and light and great Italian food.
Jacqui thanked her, feeling undeserving of so much hospitality. After showering in the steam bath and changing into a bulky black sweater and a pair of sweatpants, she had dinner with Kit's parents, regaling them with stories of Brazil and her observations of the Hamptons, and after the Ashleighs retired for the evening, she helped Kit load the dishwasher and clean up the kitchen.
They brought out Kit's duvet and snuggled underneath it on
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the couch, watching the news. There were several mudslides reported in the cliffs, and the ocean was rising at a dangerous speed.
"I hope the Perrys are all right," Jacqui said, gnawing on her fingernails. She was worried about them, but also worried about what would happen when she returned. Anna was sure to fire her ass as soon as she set foot back on the estate.
"I'm sure they're fine," Kit said. "I talked to Ryan, and it sounds like they have it under control."
Jacqui leaned her head affectionately on Kit's shoulder. She'd never thought of Kit as anything but a friend, but as she sat beside him on his couch, feeling safe and protected and secure in his warm stone house, Jacqui felt the first stirrings of something deeper--something more than lust--and it dawned on her that maybe this was what really liking someone, as opposed to wanting them, felt like.
"You've got to give me time," she whispered, putting a hand on Kit's red cheek. He was so pale, his skin was too sensitive, and his hair was so blond it was almost white. He definitely had potential.
"Huh?" Kit asked sleepily.
"Nothing," Jacqui said.
"Are you comfortable?" Kit asked.
Jacqui nodded. She'd never felt more at home.
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a bathrobe never
looked so good
MARA FELT BAD FOR RYAN. HE LOOKED SO SAD, JUST
standing there, dripping wet in the kitchen, a pack of Rice-A-Roni in his hand.
"Listen, you don't have to say anything," she said. The thought broke her heart, but if Ryan and Eliza were happy together, then she would just have to find a way to be happy for them.
"I don't?" he asked, confused.
"I know you and Eliza are together now, and it's . . . fine. I just want you guys to be happy . . ." she said, her voice trailing.
Ryan shuffled and put down the cardboard box. "But that's what I'm telling you--I'm not with Eliza. Eliza and I . . . we're just friends," he said, stepping toward her. "We're good friends, but that's all."
"You're not? With Eliza? But ... I don't understand," Mara said, taking a step closer to him. Then she saw that his lips were a little purple. "Oh God, you're freezing," she said, before Ryan could say anything else.
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"But I want to tell you something," Ryan said, dripping fat, wet rain droplets on the floor.
"Okay, but you need to get out of those wet clothes first," she said, "Come on."
"I am c-cold," he said, shivering. "Come with me?" he said as he began stripping off his outer clothes on the way to his room. When they arrived at the top of the stairs, Mara saw that a maid had already started a fire in the fireplace next to his bed. Ryan stood next to it and started looking a little less blue.
"Here," she said, holding a fluffy white towel from the bathroom. "You need to get dry, or you'll catch the flu or something."
"Mara, wait--we need to talk," Ryan said, rubbing the towel against his neck. His T-shirt was drenched. "Do you mind?" he asked, tugging at the shirt.
"Um, oh, no," Mara said, turning around. "Go ahead, I won't look."
Ryan laughed. "No, I mean, will you help me?"
Mara lost all her self-consciousness as she helped him out of his soaked clothes. He stripped off his wet jeans, and Mara handed him his bathrobe. He looked so handsome, so tan against the terry cloth, so nearly naked. . . .
"So, Mara ... I just wanted to tell you . . ." he said awkwardly. "I mean, this is kind of hard to say."
"Yes?" Mara looked at him hopefully.
"It's just that, well, this summer, you know, I . . . just . . . I just . . ." He shook his head and looked grimly into the flames.
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"I missed you this summer, you know," he finally said. He exhaled. "I guess I missed--I miss-- the old Mara."
"I do too," Mara said, her throat tightening as she sat down on the side of his bed, deflated. The old Mara. The Mara before the earring scandal, the Garrett Reynolds debacle, the Perry sisters' nick name. She
didn't know who the old Mara was anymore. She certainly wasn't just some small-town girl from Sturbridge anymore, but she wasn't a Hamptons swan, either.
"Ryan, I feel awful. I've been terrible. I just... I just. . ." Her eyes filled with tears, and when they fell, she couldn't stop them. "I just got carried away, and all I wanted was to be with you. I don't even know why I was with Garrett all the time. I just wanted to make you jealous."
"Well, it worked." He laughed, sitting down next to her.
"I kind of think he was only with me to make you jealous too," Mara said. "When he broke up with me, he said it'd all been worth it for 'the Perry factor,' whatever that meant."
Ryan shook his head. "He's been like that since we were kids. He stole my first girlfriend, back in sixth grade. Sophomore year, I took this girl to the winter ball and he took her home." He shrugged. "He's a douche."
Mara squeezed his knee sympathetically and smiled at Ryan's summation of Garrett's personality. He was a douche.
"You know, I really lost it when you broke up with me," Ryan said. "I should have said something, I should have come down to Sturbridge. Tried to get you to change your
mind ..."
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"I just never thought a guy like you could be my boyfriend," she admitted. "I thought if I broke up with you first, I could make it easier on myself."
They hadn't been looking at each other when they were talking, preferring to confess to the fire, but finally, Mara turned to face Ryan. She pushed his bangs off his forehead.
"I did so many things this summer that I regret," she sighed. "I've been so awful to Eliza and Jacqui. And I was so rude to my sister when she was here."
"Eliza and Jacqui and your sister will all forgive you," he said reassuringly. "It's all going to be all right."
"No, everyone hates--" But before she could finish, he was kissing her. And she was kissing him back. It was so sweet it was almost painful.
He pulled her toward him, his fingers lost in her hair, and she wrapped her arms around him. They kept kissing and kissing and kissing, without stopping to breathe, as if the only thing that mattered was pouring their souls into each other through their kisses. She shivered, and he pulled his bathrobe open, wrapping it around her, too.
Mara closed her eyes, elated and anxious. There was no one else for her, and no one else for him. He was everything she'd ever wanted, and even though she was still anxious that she'd made a mess of a million things, she let her body melt into his. It was as if they were made for each other, and their bodies were telling each other what their hearts had been feeling for a long, long time.
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so that's why william was so out of control
THE NEXT MORNING, THE FLOOD HAD RECEDED AND
sanitation workers were beginning to clear the highways of fallen trees and branches. Kit drove Jacqui back to the Perry house, the Navigator plowing through the deep, muddy waters. The winds had died down, and it had finally stopped raining. The storm had moved north, but the Hamptons were devastated. Several homes on cliff side bluffs were completely destroyed, and as Kit pulled up to the Perrys' driveway, they noticed that the Reynolds Castle--what was left of it, anyway--had taken a severe beating.
"Yikes," Kit said, his eyes dancing. "I hope they had insurance."
"It was such an eyesore, it's a blessing," Jacqui said.
She felt more nervous looking at the Perry house. It was almost time to face the music, and she was so fired. But as she was gathering her resolve, getting ready to pack up her things and head unceremoniously back to Brazil, a junky old taxi pulled into
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the other side of the circular driveway. Philippe opened the trunk and stacked his suitcases inside.
He was leaving? Jacqui hadn't realized he wasn't staying for the whole summer, but then again, she hadn't realized a lot of things about him. She looked at the beautiful boy and felt stupid, but not heartbroken. Philippe gave her a mild wave.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
He shrugged and put on his sunglasses. "Au revoir, ma cherie." He shook a cigarette out of his pack before climbing into the back of the taxi.
Laurie came barging out of the house. "And don't come back! You're lucky we're not pressing charges! If it weren't for your aunt, you'd be in a lot of trouble, young man!"
Dr. Abraham pushed past Laurie, carrying his battered plaid suitcases. "Hold on, boy! I need a ride to the train as well!" Dr. Abraham gave Laurie a sheepish nod and followed Philippe into the car.
Jacqui walked up the waterlogged steps. The Perry house seemed to have survived intact. "What happened?" she asked Anna, who was watching everything from the foyer.
The frosted blonde looked Jacqui up and down. "Don't you know?" she asked suspiciously.
"Know what?" Jacqui asked, mystified.
"But vou called Philiooe last nieht..." Anna said.
Jacqui blushed. "I ... I was stuck out on Route 27. The Prius ran out of gas and I was trapped outside in the hurricane.
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I tried the main house, but the lines were down," she explained.
Anna's face visibly relaxed upon hearing Jacqui's explanation. "So you really didn't know?" she asked again.
"Know what?
"Philippe is a drug dealer," Laurie interjected, breathlessly recounting how Anna had found out that Philippe and Dr. Abraham were selling Ritalin, Adderrall, Valium, and Ambien to customers in the greater Hamptons area.
So that was why his cell was always ringing. Apparently, Philippe had started nicking William's prescriptions to fill some orders, and when the doctor had found out what Philippe was doing, instead of reporting it, he'd supplied Philippe with more scrips and gotten a cut of the deal. The hurricane had made a lot of people nervous, and Philippe had made a lot of deliveries that week. Anna had discovered the truth when she'd caught him stuffing William's pills in his backpack, when she'd been running around the house looking for her meds. And that was why Anna had said, "Philippe isn't open for business," when Jacqui had called.
Anna didn't want a scandal and had chosen to send Philippe away and fire the doctor rather than take any legal action. She found the whole thing more unseemly than criminal. She didn't want her name in the papers. At least, not for this sort of reason.
Anna dismissed Laurie and then touched Jacqui's arm conspiratorially. "By the way, congratulations on keeping away from him all summer." Anna winked. "I know how charming he can be."
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Even though Jacqui hadn't entirely stayed away from Philippe, she didn't think there was any reason to mention that now. Maybe Philippe hadn't been with Anna--the emergency call from the Perry house the night at the motel could have just as likely have been Dr. Abraham. Jacqui would probably never know for sure, but she also didn't care.
"Anyway, Jacqui darling, I just wanted to remind you that we'll need you to be back in New York by late August. I'll send a ticket to your address in Brazil--will that be all right?" Anna asked.
"Does that mean I get the job?" Jacqui practically squealed.
"Of course." Anna nodded. "And my friend at Stuyvesant said we'd be able to get you in, no problem. We're not sending William to Eton after all, since he failed the entrance test. And after everything that's happened with Philippe, I don't think his aunt--our usual nanny--will be coming back. So we're definitely going to need someone to help with the kids."
Jacqui laughed. After all that, she was getting everything she'd wanted. And, looking at Kit, who was helping Ryan clear the wreckage of fallen limbs, she realized that maybe she had ended up with even more than she deserved.
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summer ends early, but the next one
isn't too far behind
THAT AFTERNOON, ANNA ANNOUNCED THAT THE
Perrys were going to go back to New York early. There were a couple of weeks left before Labor Day, but staying around to clean up the house and yard was not Anna's idea of a good time. The girls were still going to get paid for th
e whole summer as had been agreed, but after that evening, their services would no longer be required.
Since the kitchen was unusable due to water damage, Jacqui proposed a full-blown Brazilian churrascaria --grilled steaks, sausages, chicken, and lamb, to celebrate surviving the hurricane. Now that the storm had passed, the sky was bright and clear and the air was warm. It was the perfect night for a barbecue. Jacqui even made a pitcher of caipirinhas, a Brazilian version of the mojito, that she knew her friends would like.
She invited Eliza to come over and join the fun, and although Eliza was a little hesitant at first, she agreed. She had a lot to say to Mara, and it was finally time. She and Jeremy arrived at dusk,
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his trusty old pickup truck carefully maneuvering over the bumpy roads and around the fallen trees. They walked over to the patio, where the smell of sizzling meat wafted deliciously in the air. The kids were running around, sword fighting with the fallen branches.
Eliza saw Mara and Jacqui manning the grill. Mara was fresh-faced and glowing. For the first time that summer, she was wearing her own clothes--a plain white T-shirt and a pair of Gap cargos.
"Hola, chicas," Eliza said, in her best imitation of Jacqui.
Mara looked up at the sound of Elizas voice. Eliza was wearing her Sally Hershberger jeans and the discount Missoni top. Jacqui had covered her fauxhawk with the Pucci scarf. Mara was glad her friends each had a souvenir from the Mitzi closet.
"Let's talk, Mar," Eliza said bravely, when she got a little closer.
Mara nodded. "Yeah, that'd be good."
"You, too, Jac," Eliza said. "All of us. It's been too long."
The three of them ambled to the beach in silence, Jacqui walking between Mara and Eliza, hoping she could be the peanut butter to stick the three of them back together. They watched the seagulls glide gently over the waves and the ocean glitter under the setting sun. The hurricane had stirred up the ocean floor, and the beach was littered with broken seashells and assorted debris.
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