She busied herself with three other tables until she remembered Mike and checked to see if he was still there. They were gone. When she opened the leather checkbook, she saw that he’d left her a 50 percent tip.
“Here,” she said to Sadie as she coasted by. She pressed the checkbook into her hands. “Take it. My gift to you.”
“Is this from the hot guy?” Sadie asked, a rapacious look in her eye.
No, from the total asshole, she wanted to say.
She was still in a foul mood that night when Rory joined her in the kitchen for dinner. “I heard you saw Evan today,” she said, picking at her salad. “How was that?”
Rory stopped in her tracks for a moment, as if she’d forgotten something.
“What?” Isabel asked.
“Oh, nothing.” Rory sat down and served herself some Cobb salad from the bowl on the counter. “Yeah, we met for lunch. Kind of randomly.”
“That’s cool,” Isabel said, flicking through channels on the flat screen. “He said you guys had a good time.”
“He said that?” Rory asked.
She seems jumpy tonight, Isabel thought, watching Rory shovel food into her mouth. “Yeah. Sounds like you had a better day than I did. Guess who came into the restaurant? Mike. And it wasn’t even on purpose. He was there to have lunch.”
“Did you want it to be on purpose?” Rory asked.
“The whole point,” Isabel said, trying not to sound irritated, “is that he made this big declaration at the Ripcurl, and today, it was like I was any old waitress at any old diner. He didn’t say a thing to me. It was like he’d never laid eyes on me before.”
“Maybe he didn’t think he could say anything to you. Like, it wouldn’t be okay, at your place of work.”
“Whatever,” Isabel said, all pretense at not getting annoyed now gone. “He’s over me now. Or he was drunk that night at the Ripcurl.”
“But I thought things were going so well with Evan. Do you want Mike to still be into you?”
Isabel put her head in her hands. “No,” she said. “I’m done with Mike. Once and for all. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. That guy is a big waste of time.”
“Isabel?” her mother called on the intercom. “Can you come up here, please?”
Isabel dropped her fork on her plate and stood up. “Yes!” she called out. “What does she want now?” she murmured to Rory.
“Good luck,” Rory said, in a way that got under Isabel’s skin.
Isabel went up the stairs, getting more furious at being summoned with every step. She went to her mother’s bedroom door. “Yes?” she asked.
“What do you think of this dress?” her mother asked. “Be honest.” She stood in the center of her room, in front of her full-length mirror. Her hand was on her hip, modeling a body-fitting tangerine-colored dress with a deep V-neck.
“What’s that for?” Isabel asked.
“The party,” Mrs. Rule said. “You know I’m throwing a party for my birthday.”
“And you know that I’m not going,” Isabel said.
“Isabel, please don’t,” she said.
“Why do you insist on these parties? That nobody wants you to have?”
“Because I enjoy it,” she said. “Some of us enjoy serving hamburgers and fries, and some of us enjoy throwing parties. Now.” She turned in front of Isabel. “Tell me. What do you think?”
Isabel gazed at the dress. “That one’s nice,” she conceded.
“Thank you. And just so you know, you can bring your new boyfriend. He’s invited.”
“How do you know I have a boyfriend?”
Her mother gave her a look. “I may be a little distracted these days, but I’m not an idiot.”
“When are you going to give it up?” Isabel asked. “All this work? All this running around to make sure nobody suspects anything is wrong with us? Aren’t you tired of the lie?”
Her mother sighed. “Here we go again. Saint Isabel lecturing me on how to live.”
Isabel turned to leave. “I’m in a hurry. I have to get in the shower.”
“What’s his name?” her mother asked, arching a brow.
“Evan.”
“Great. Then tell Evan he’s expected here at a party on the twenty-sixth.”
“This is all going to blow up in your face, sooner or later,” Isabel said. “I hope you know that.” Before her mom could respond, Isabel stalked out of the room and shut the door. She felt mean and small and petty, but at least she was being honest. It was more than she could say for anyone else in this family.
She sat down at her laptop and flipped up the cover. Her in-box stared back at her. Three e-mails, and no response at all from Mr. Knox. Where did you go? she wanted to write. What happened to you? How could you just disappear on me?
She slammed the laptop closed. This was what fathers did, she thought ruefully. They disappeared. She shouldn’t have even been surprised.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rory woke up on the morning of Mrs. Rule’s party to the sound of enormous trucks screeching to a stop in front of the house. These had to be the tables and chairs. She lay there, too tired to get up, listening to the men begin to unload their cargo with curses and jokes. Mrs. Rule intended to throw the party of the summer, and there would be many more trucks and lots more cursing before the day was over. Beside her Connor slept peacefully on his side, facing away from her, oblivious to the noise. She reached out and lightly touched his shoulder. “Connor,” she whispered.
He didn’t move.
She leaned over and kissed his shoulder. He moved just a little and groaned slightly, turning around to face her. Then he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his chest. “Hmm, hmmm,” he murmured, pressing her close, so close that it was hard for her to breathe.
Ever since the kiss with Evan on the beach, she’d made a point of spending the night in Connor’s room. She’d made a point of spending other quality time with him as well—dinners, walks on the beach, playing tennis, riding their bikes to the movie theater on Main Street. She also made sure to avoid the subject of his parents. With a little bit of effort—her effort, really—they’d become a couple again. She felt proud of herself for her dedication, as if she’d received an A on a term paper she’d worked on for months. But there were still things that were out of her control. His tendency to hang out with people she couldn’t stand was one of them.
The night before, Augusta had come bowling with them. It had been Connor’s idea. Augusta was as silly and annoying as ever, prattling on constantly about the time they’d locked some friend of theirs out of one of the St. Paul’s dorms, or something else equally stupid. How can he stand these people? she wondered. What does he see in them? A few minutes of hanging out with Augusta, and Rory was back to thinking about Evan.
Did he still like her? Did he think about her? Did he feel guilty about the kiss, or would he do it again if he had the chance? Sometimes the not knowing made her want to scream. She’d find herself staring at the few texts they’d sent each other before their lunch date, dissecting them, trying to read any hidden meaning in the words. Finally she’d tell herself to stop, because it didn’t matter anyway—he was Isabel’s boyfriend, unavailable, not even a possibility, for so many reasons. And she already felt terrible about the kiss. It had turned her into something she’d never thought she’d become in a million years: a cheater. She’d never done that to anybody, and even now it seemed so out of character, so unlike her, so against everything she stood for, that most of the time she couldn’t believe she’d done it at all. When Isabel came back from seeing him, Rory would hold her breath, half expecting that she’d found out about the kiss, until it was clear that he hadn’t said anything. And each time she knew he’d stayed quiet, she wondered how he felt. It was torture.
She glanced at her watch and disentangled herself from Connor’s grasp.
“Hey,” she whispered. “I gotta go.”
Connor blinked his eyes open. “ ’Ka
y,” he said, releasing her easily.
“I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said.
Connor kept his eyes closed, happy to fall back asleep. As she tiptoed out of the room, opening the door as slowly as possible and checking to make sure that Mrs. Rule’s door was shut, she felt a slight weariness. Connor never spent the night in her room. He didn’t take her out. If they went somewhere alone, it was her idea. Yes, they were on good terms again, but it seemed as if she was doing all the work. And as much as she didn’t want to admit that, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.
Isabel opened her eyes and realized with a start that she was still at Evan’s. She didn’t recognize it in daylight. White morning light streamed in through the spaces between the venetian blinds, making the green felt–upholstered chairs look even more depressing. On her cheek she could feel a dried thread of drool, along with the imprint of Jeff’s uncle’s scratchy, basket-weave pillow. Her head ached. Besides being worried about having completely broken her curfew, she felt a general distaste at having fallen asleep in her clothes.
Beside her Evan lay fully clothed, his mouth slightly open, a content look on his face. The tube TV on its stand flickered silently with static.
“Hey,” she said, touching him on the shoulder. “Wake up.”
Evan shifted groggily and opened one eye like a cat. “What time is it?” he asked.
She grabbed her watch. “It’s around eight. I really need to go.”
Evan yawned lazily and stretched. “Not yet,” he said with a smile.
“No, now,” she said, getting up.
Evan propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the room. “Damn, that movie must have been boring.”
“I think I was just tired.” She started dashing around the room, collecting her phone, bracelets, keys, and lipstick, which she’d left in various corners.
“Sorry that this is sort of my bedroom for now,” he said. “I know it’s kind of lame.”
“That’s okay,” she said.
“I can talk to Jeff about working something out. There’s gotta be something of mine that he wants.”
“Really, it’s not a big deal,” she lied. More than once last night, Jeff had stomped out of his bedroom, walked past them on the way to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator six feet away, and then passed them again. Usually when they were in the middle of kissing.
“I thought you said he’d be out,” Isabel had whispered at one point.
“I know, but he doesn’t go anywhere without me,” Evan had said. “Yo, dude!” he yelled down the hall. “Stay in your room!”
Eventually they gave up on trying to kiss and just watched a movie instead. As she snacked from a bowl filled with Veggie Pirate’s Booty and drank a random sports drink she’d found in Evan’s fridge, Isabel’s thoughts turned to Mike. The sting of his snub at the restaurant had worn off, and she was back to fantasizing. She wondered what he was doing now, who he was with, if he still thought about her, and what would have happened if she’d kissed him at the Ripcurl that first night. She’d closed her eyes, thinking about him—those golden arms, that thick dark hair, those intense, searching, slightly wounded eyes, staring hard at her mouth.
Now she stumbled through the room, still groggy, trying not to bump her shin against the low coffee table. Thankfully she didn’t have work today and could go home and take a nap.
“So what time’s your mom’s party tonight?” Evan asked, standing up.
“Oh, probably around seven.”
“Do I need to put on a tie?”
“You have a tie?”
“Of course.” Evan looked a little hurt at the implication that he didn’t.
“You don’t have to wear a tie, but a button-down would be good. A nice one. My mom is into clothes. Like, freakishly so.” She walked up to him and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Morning breath,” she explained.
“Right,” said Evan.
Isabel thought he looked a little let down, but she never liked to kiss anyone before brushing her teeth. “See you tonight.”
“See you,” he said.
Rory was toasting a bagel in the kitchen when Isabel walked in.
“I need to find something for this stupid party tonight,” Isabel said, sipping from a takeout cup of coffee. “Want to come with me to town?”
“I thought you weren’t going to the party,” Rory said.
“I’m going for an hour,” Isabel said. “Evan’s coming. Then we’ll probably take off and go somewhere.”
“Evan’s coming?” Rory asked, taking out her bagel. This was interesting.
“Yeah. I figured I’d bite the bullet and invite him.”
Rory thought quickly—she’d been planning on wearing jeans and a nice top. But now that Evan was coming, something a bit dressier might be better. “I’ll go with you,” she said.
Twenty minutes later, they were in Scoop NYC, rifling through the racks.
“I spent the night with Evan last night,” Isabel announced.
“You did?”
“But only in the technical sense,” Isabel said. “I fell asleep there by accident. Luckily my mom was too busy with the florists to even notice me coming in this morning.”
“So was it fun?” Rory asked.
“Sort of,” Isabel said. “But the guy doesn’t even have his own bedroom. He’s crashing in the living room right now. On a futon. His roommate came out, like, four times to get stuff from the kitchen while we were making out. It was kind of a bummer.”
Rory didn’t want to think too hard about Isabel and Evan making out. “I’m sure Evan was embarrassed by that.”
“Maybe, but I mean, come on. You know, Mike wasn’t the best boyfriend in the world, I’ll give you that. But at least he had his own room,” Isabel said, taking three dresses to the fitting rooms.
Rory wondered why Isabel was bringing up Mike but decided to let it go. While Isabel was in the fitting room, a text came through on Rory’s phone. It was from Connor.
Turned out to be a half day for me. Where r u? Wanna get a bite?
Sure, she wrote back. With Isabel now. We’re at Scoop.
Meet you in 15, Connor texted back.
Rory looked longingly at a cute electric-blue silk halter dress with purple beading along the bodice, hanging on a mannequin. It was four hundred dollars. Evan would think it was pretty; there was no doubt in her mind.
“Ugh, none of these work,” Isabel said, emerging from the fitting room with an armful of dresses. She handed the salesgirl the balled-up dresses and then stopped in front of the mannequin. “What about that one?” she said, pointing to the blue-and-purple-beaded dress.
“It’s cute,” Rory concurred.
“Lemme try it,” she said.
The salesgirl removed it from the mannequin and gave it to Isabel.
A few minutes later, Rory watched as Isabel bought the electric-blue dress. Rory had told her it looked beautiful on her, but as Isabel casually handed her credit card to the salesgirl, Rory felt a pang. Things came so easily to her sometimes. It wasn’t fair.
“Connor wants to meet us for lunch,” Rory said as they walked out of the store into the hot afternoon.
“Okay,” Isabel said.
Groups of tourists walking four abreast roamed the sidewalks, eating ice cream and window-shopping. Almost every store had a small American flag hanging above the window. Connor appeared from around the corner.
“There he is,” Isabel said, pointing.
“Hey!” Rory called out. “This place is a zoo. Look at all these people.”
“I rode my bike,” Connor said. “It was my only hope.”
“Where should we eat?” Isabel asked. “I’m starving.”
“Mom asked me to go to Citarella and pick up a few things,” Connor said.
“That’s fine,” said Rory. “We can grab sandwiches there.”
They crossed Main Street and walked over to Citarella, where a stream of people contin
uously entered and exited its doors. Inside, the store was more packed than Rory had ever seen it. The line to pay snaked around the perimeter, and all the aisles were thick with shoppers.
They were on their way over to the sandwich counter when a petite, fortyish woman with a sleek brown bob and meticulously plucked eyebrows came over to them. She tapped Isabel excitedly on the shoulder. “Isabel!” she exclaimed. “Connor! Hello, you two!” The woman gave Isabel a hug. “How are you? We haven’t seen you in ages!”
“Hi, Mrs. Quinlan,” Isabel said politely. She turned to Rory. “This is Thayer’s mom,” she explained.
“Your mom tells me that you got some kind of job?” she asked, looking at both Connor and Isabel for confirmation of this.
“You know Isabel,” Connor cut in. “She really likes to keep busy.”
Fortunately Mrs. Quinlan seemed too scattered to catch Connor’s evasion. “Isn’t this place packed today?” she asked, looking around. “I came in to get some pancetta, and I don’t think I’m going to get out for hours. Thayer’s here,” she said, craning her head to find her daughter in the crowd. “Well, she was just here. Oh, there she is. Thayer!” she called. “Look who’s here!”
Rory turned to see Thayer coming toward them. She wore a belted linen dress with a horseshoe pattern and her usual expression of blasé ennui above it all.
“Hey,” she said coolly.
Isabel tossed some blond hair over her shoulder and stiffened. “Hey,” she replied.
“You need to come over one of these days,” Mrs. Quinlan said to Isabel, oblivious to the coolness between the two girls. “We have a whole new kitchen now.”
“Sure,” Isabel said.
“Unless you’re too busy working,” Thayer said with an audible smugness. “Aren’t you waiting tables? Or is that just a rumor?”
“No, it’s not a rumor,” Isabel said bravely.
“I heard you got into UPenn,” Connor broke in, trying to change the subject.
Since Last Summer Page 14
