“Oh, man. It’s like the house from Clue,” she said. “Are there secret passages?”
“Two, actually,” said Ardelia. “There’s a maintenance tunnel connecting the basement and the pool house, and another running from the master bedroom to several of the guest rooms. In architecture it’s known as a Galerie des Liaisons.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Well, galerie is a kind of hallway, and liaison is, well, a liaison.” She turned to address Spanner, who had been relegated to the backseat. “How would you describe it?”
“It’s so the master of the house can have affairs with the help, without being spotted leaving his room,” said Spanner.
“A hook-up hall,” suggested Cherry.
“Brilliant,” said Spanner. For the first time since the airport, she removed her sunglasses. She gazed over Cherry’s shoulder, at the house growing larger in the windshield. “It’s nice to be home, anyway.”
It had started to rain, and there was a mad dash from the cars into the massive foyer. The guests dripped on the marble floor.
“Your rooms are straight up the back,” said Ardelia. Cherry raised an eyebrow. “Your father made me promise that you and Lucas would have separate accommodations. Do what you like, but there are two rooms if you need them.”
Cherry took off through the archway and jogged up the stairs. Rain and lightning shimmered through slim windows that were like chinks in a castle wall. Only the frilly tops of cherry trees were visible, trembling in the wind.
She came to the third floor and turned a corner into a long, empty hallway. The rooms were cavernous, with vaulted ceilings and large bay windows where Peter Pan would have felt at home. She heard Lucas thumping up behind her. Shivering, she peeled off her wet top and took a sweater from her bag. She was pulling it on when Lucas came in.
“Aww, I missed the show.”
“Good things come to those who wait,” Cherry said in her best British accent. She was getting good at it.
Lucas swept her up and carried her to the immense canopy bed. He climbed on top of her, but she fended him off with her foot. “Easy, easy! I’m crampy.”
His shoulders fell. The look of pure misery on his face made Cherry laugh.
“You’re not on your period, are you?”
“Any day now,” she said. “Can’t you tell I’ve been PMS-ing like crazy?”
“I couldn’t tell if that was PMS or just regular Cherry crazy.”
She kicked him, hard. “You’re not getting anything with that attitude.”
He grinned and rolled to the floor, jumping up and heading into the private bathroom. “Oh, man, is this a Jacuzzi tub?” He gave her a come-hither look. “Wanna take a bath?”
“Later,” she said. “You go ahead. I’ll unpack.”
“Suit yourself.”
Steam was rolling out of the bathroom when Ardelia knocked on the door.
“Getting settled?”
Cherry closed the bathroom door, feeling a little silly and prudish. Whatever. She didn’t want Ardelia seeing her man bare-assed.
“This house is amazing. When I was a kid, I’d play princess, but I never thought I’d be, like, in an actual castle.”
“It’s not a castle, and it’s a devil to heat in the winters. But as the eldest, I’m the official steward, so it’s up to me to keep it Bristol.” She ran her hand along the door frame. “I come here between films to check on her. Daddy’s in Monaco, and my brother’s barely ever here. She’s kind of my pet project.” She smiled at Cherry. “Like you!”
“I think I just got compared to a house,” said Cherry.
“Oh, you know what I mean. I like introducing people to culture, showing them new things. And wait until you see my art collection. And the food!” Ardelia placed her wrist to her forehead. Such an actress. “The staff will be here tomorrow morning, and we’ll have a proper meal. Just tinned stuff at the moment.”
Cherry stopped unpacking and turned. “The staff?”
“Just two of them. Oliver, he’s the caretaker, and his granddaughter, Evelyn. She’s just a kid and, between you and me, a sourpuss. But Oliver’s a dear. He’s like family. You’ll love him.”
Cherry didn’t like the idea of being waited on. It was one thing at a restaurant, but in a house? Would Oliver come when Ardelia rang a bell? Would Evelyn say, “Yes, mum,” like the frog footmen in Alice in Wonderland? It was creepy and slavish. She decided she could be cooked for but not served.
“Don’t make that face,” Ardelia said. “It’s not like I keep them in the dungeon with the stretching rack and the iron maiden. I need help keeping a big place like this. Speaking of”— she made devilish eyes —“how about a tour?”
“Sounds fun,” said Cherry.
With these words, the bathroom door burst open and Lucas leaped out, completely naked. The steam didn’t do much to hide his frame of mind.
“All right, baby, your man’s spit shined and ready to —”
“Lucas!”
Too late he realized they weren’t alone. Reeling backward, Lucas retreated into the bathroom. There came the squeal of bare feet on damp tile, a thump, and a curse. The door slammed shut again.
Ardelia had turned the color of cherry purée, eyes wide. Way wide. Wide in a way Cherry didn’t like at all.
“Well.” Ardelia cleared her throat. “Lucky you, I guess.”
She turned slowly and stepped out into the hallway. The bathroom door creaked. Lucas had wrapped himself head to toe in towels and peered from behind the door.
“Is she gone?”
“You didn’t hear us talking?”
“What?”
“We were talking in here. You didn’t hear that I wasn’t alone?”
“No!” He edged out into the room. “What’s with you?”
“Just seems a little suspicious,” Cherry said, looking away.
“Okay, now I’m getting the PMS vibe.”
She whirled around to retort, but he’d already closed the door.
“The dining room,” said Ardelia, flipping the switch with a flourish, illuminating a wall of windows and a long, elegant table. “Oliver is an amazing cook, and there’s everything imaginable in the pantry.”
Cherry doubted Liddell Manor stocked Yow-Gurts and cherry cola, but she didn’t say anything.
“The causeway.” Ardelia pointed left, then right, like a flight attendant. “The parlor. And the library.”
“Wow.” Cherry craned her neck until it hurt. Wooden shelves climbed to the second-story ceiling, each one crammed with thick spines, everything a faded brown. Some of the books were bigger than the dictionary at the Aubrey Public Library. Most of the shelves were behind glass, like museum cabinets.
“Why are the books behind glass?” Cherry asked.
“Antiques,” said Ardelia, taking her by the arm. “Feel free to borrow any.”
Cherry gawked at the towering, dusty spines. She imagined Ardelia up late with a fez and pipe, one of the foot-thick tomes on her lap. The biggest book Cherry had ever read was Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Ardelia led her through a connecting door under the spiral staircase.
“Through here is the music room. Do you play an instrument?”
“I took recorder in grade school.”
Ardelia plunked a few notes on the chocolate grand. “That’s the game room through there.” She brightened. “Do you like chess? Spanner is positively brilliant. Beats me every time.”
“Chutes and Ladders, mostly,” Cherry joked. “And Candy Land. I’m a master strategist. Like, I never get stuck in the Chocolate Swamp.”
Ardelia smiled with some effort. “Well, you’ll have to teach me, then.”
The tour continued, Ardelia going on about the tapestries; the doorknobs, which apparently once belonged to some king; the claw-foot bathtub that you couldn’t actually use because it was older than certain U.S. states.
Cherry was nettled. Apparently you never knew a person until
you went through their house, saw their DVD collection and the posters on their bedroom walls. Ardelia wasn’t just presenting her home; she was giving Cherry a glimpse into her subconscious, and it turned out there were vast places inside Ardelia that Cherry hadn’t imagined. They were practically strangers.
From the drawing room, they reentered the marble foyer. “These stairs lead to the master bedroom, et cetera, and the second-story terrace. And that’s everything! What do you think?”
Cherry groped for something nice to say. Ardelia was proud of her house. She’d spoken about the bathtub like some girls talked about T-shirts autographed by Beyoncé. “I’m surprised,” she said.
“Oh?”
“All this old stuff . . . it doesn’t seem like you. I mean, you own silver track shorts. You go to hotel parties.”
“I see. You think I’m a vapid celebrity.” She was joshing, but the accusation stung.
“No! Well, maybe when we first met. I guess it all makes sense. It’s still a lot to take in, though.”
Ardelia hugged herself. “The clothes and parties and things, they go away eventually. But this”— she gestured to the marble cherubs in the eaves —“this is history. This will last. And I want to share it with someone.” She bit her lip, lost in her own thoughts. “I wanted to be a teacher before I became an actress.”
“I thought you became an actress when you were eight.”
“Well, it was an early aspiration.” She nudged Cherry’s elbow. “I’m glad you came. I like to show off the house.”
“I don’t think I’m the one to appreciate it,” Cherry said.
“You will,” said Ardelia.
They were quiet for a moment. The rain chattered against the high windows and in the distant, lonely corners of the mansion.
“Sorry about Lucas,” Cherry said suddenly. The words clunked in the echoey room. “That was embarrassing.”
Ardelia was already protesting, “Serves me right for hanging around your room like a school prefect.”
“You wouldn’t . . . I mean you’re not like . . . You don’t like him, right?”
Ardelia was genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I would want to know if you thought he was cute. It’s okay if you do. It’s just, you’re a celebrity and it’s kind of hard for a girl to compete. . . .” Her face was hot. Embarrassment and anger tangoed in her chest, and it was so annoying how Ardelia was just standing there, looking stupid. Finally she seemed to get it. Her eyes turned to silver dollars.
“Darling, there is no way Lucas would ever go for a girl like me,” she said. “He’s yours, body and soul. That’s obvious.”
Cherry tried to laugh. “Right. Sorry. I’m being stupid.”
“And besides,” Ardelia added. “I would never get together with a friend’s boyfriend. That’s repugnant.”
“Right. Repugnant,” said Cherry, the word leaving her lips a bit reluctantly.
Ardelia smiled. “Come on. This week can’t be all serious. Let’s see if there’s any good bubbly in the cellar. We can watch a movie on the big screen!”
She skipped toward the cellar door, a little girl in her childhood home again. Something caught Cherry’s eye in the reflective brass vase by the staircase. She glanced up. Standing on the second-story foyer was Spanner, leaning over the banister, wrists crossed.
“Do you always eavesdrop on other people’s conversations?”
“It’s my home — I can do what I like,” said Spanner.
“Your home?”
“I’ve lived here since I was nine years old.” She smiled slyly. “Besides, I’d never eavesdrop. That would be repugnant.”
Cherry tucked her hands under her arms. “Don’t fall and break your neck or anything.”
She followed Ardelia into the basement, happy the gloom hid her face.
Cherry woke moaning and clutched at her temples. A Mack truck rumbled through her skull.
“I know that look,” a voice said. “You’ll want vitamin C and ginger ale.”
She opened an eye. Sunlight was boring in through the bay window. It took her a moment to remember where she was. She looked left and saw the dent in Lucas’s pillow. Sometime after the movie (something black-and-white, Philadelphia Story) they’d stumbled up to bed, wine-drunk and giggling. It was all they could do to pry off their shoes and drop onto the mattress before passing out.
She looked around the room for some sign of him. The person who’d spoken was bent over in the middle of the room, gathering Cherry’s discarded clothing. The person stood. She looked about fourteen with nasty acne and an overbite. Cherry sat up. “Who?”— she winced and lay back down —“are you?”
“Eve,” said the girl, stuffing the clothes into a wicker hamper she lugged with her across the carpet. “And I’m not the cook and I’m not your servant, so if you want something, ask Oliver. I just clean and do the washing.”
It sounded like dew ther warshing. Her accent was different from Spanner’s and Ardelia’s. It was rounder and heavier, a bobbing pelican to their fluttery songbirds.
Cherry held a fist to her forehead. “I do my own laundry.”
“They all say that the first day,” said the girl, addressing an invisible listener in the corner. “Then it’s, Oh, Eve, I got a little stain. Oh, Eve, can you sew this tear?” She scowled. “When you feel better, the others are by the pool. There’s a swimsuit in the WC.”
She left, slamming the door. Cherry’s fillings rattled.
The shower was bliss. The taps conjured instant, lusciously hot water that stayed just the right temperature, and Cherry lingered, reveling in the endless supply. Lucas’s toiletries were arranged on the vanity, clustered in a tight group as if afraid to take up too much of the spacious white marble. Cherry spread them out, along with her own things. They deserved to be there, after all. They were guests.
She considered her reflection in the full-length mirror. She’d put on weight since the fire. Mr. DuBois’s Cajun cooking was delicious but rich, and her pointiest angles had softened. She was glad to see her chest was a little fuller, but that usually happened around her period. Would it all go to shit after the baby? In a way, Ardelia was lucky. She couldn’t get pregnant, but then, she’d never have to put on baby weight or deal with breast milk or go through the Unthinkable Thing that happened when the baby came out — Cherry sure as shit didn’t want to think about it. For now, she put on the navy boy shorts and bikini top slung over the towel rack, smacked her ass, and said to her reflection, “Damn if that ain’t Cherry Kerrigan looking fine in her new swimsuit.”
She made for the back stairs. As she passed the second floor, she nearly collided with a little old man coming around the corner with a breakfast tray. Tufts of gray fuzz clung to his scalp, and he wore spattered black overalls. A penguin in a paintball tournament. The breakfast plates rattled as he steadied himself.
“Oh, you scared the wits out of me.” He spoke with the same bobbing syllables as Eve. “You don’t want breakfast, do you? I’ll have to put a new kettle on.”
“I’m Cherry,” she said, extending a hand to shake, then realizing he had no free hand to shake with. “Ardelia’s friend.”
“Oh! The American girl with the belly for rent!” He smiled, reminding Cherry of the sweet, sort of inappropriate old men who frequented Mel’s for the early-bird special. “Look at you in your skimpies. This isn’t a slumber party, dear.”
Cherry laughed. “It’s a bathing suit. Are you Oliver?”
“Unless my mother told me lies. I’ll be preparing your meals, if that’s fine with you.”
“I used to work as a line cook, actually.”
Oliver raised a furry eyebrow. “So did I! Aboard the HMS Exeter. Where were you stationed?”
“Burrito Barn,” said Cherry. “Massachusetts.”
“Never heard of the vessel.” Oliver shook his head. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Cherry, though you’ll forgive me if I forget your name, what with the
chorus o’ young women running around this house.”
“I’m the nice blonde,” Cherry said, and Oliver’s foggy squint vanished. He smirked.
“I’ll have to keep an eye on you, I can see.”
“Take it easy, Oliver,” Cherry said, and headed down the stairs.
“At my age, I don’t have much choice,” he answered.
For two years, Vi had a pool, an aboveground that was terminally clogged with leaves and algae until the afternoon that Vi, Cherry, and two other girls performed an Omni-Cannonball and the sides split, flooding Mrs. Ravir’s garden. Ardelia’s pool was sunk into a raised patio on the side of the house, with a spectacular view of the grounds, the cherry orchard to the east, and a symmetrical and stuffy-looking garden, complete with a shady stone grotto, to the west.
The patio itself was white hot, the pool, blue crystal. A table and umbrella were set at one end, and Ardelia sunned herself in a skimpy green bikini (which made Cherry’s good body feelings wither). Spanner, Cullen pale, sat in the shade with a magazine. As Cherry approached, Ardelia’s phone hummed. Spanner picked it up and flipped a page.
“Hello, Chip. No, she’s not available next weekend. Ardelia’s recreational time is extremely limited, you know that. I told you not to call her this week. Well, you can try again, but you’ll only get me. That’s what I thought.” She added a singsong “Good-bye.”
“Morning!” Lucas waved to Cherry from the pool. He swam to the edge and sipped at a glass of orange juice waiting for him there. The drinking glass looked like it might be crystal.
“Is that my boyfriend, or did I just wander into a Kanye video?”
Cherry smiled at Lucas’s bashful grin. He was enjoying himself.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” said Ardelia. “Can you believe this weather? You must be a good-luck charm.” She looked at Cherry over her shades. “How do you like the suit?”
“It’s cool,” said Cherry. “Kinda giving me a wedgie, though.” She picked at the fabric around her butt. Spanner clucked.
“Good thing you didn’t go with the thong,” said a voice behind her.
Cherry spun so fast, she nearly lost her footing. Relaxing under his own umbrella, his stomach lily white and hairless, was Maxwell Silver.
Cherry Money Baby Page 20
