Beach Lane Collection

by Melissa de la Cruz

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be there,” Mara assured her. If there was one thing Mara had learned last year, it was that they could figure out a way to take care of the kids and have a good time.

  Eliza raised an eyebrow and smiled. Jacqui being responsible? Mara ready to party? Some things really did change. They hugged Eliza good-bye, promising to call her soon.

  When Eliza left, her slides click-clacking loudly on the stairs, Philippe reentered the room, looking freshly shaven and wearing a starched white oxford shirt and perfectly pressed blue jeans.

  “Better?” he asked Mara.

  Mara nodded coolly. She had finished putting away all of her clothes, not having brought as many as Jacqui, who had already crammed the closet with her wardrobe. “I’m going to see what Laurie needs for the kids’ rooms.”

  “I’ll be there in a bit,” Jacqui promised, not meeting Mara’s eyes. She was fully conscious that Philippe had sprawled, emperor-like, on the single bed and was staring at her expectantly.

  Mara shrugged her shoulders and left, thinking she might take a few unnecessary detours on the way to Laurie’s office—say, the landing right by Ryan’s room.

  “So, Jacqui, are you also needing to see Laurie?” Philippe asked Jacqui. “Because there are still some, what you call it, piña coladas in the blender.”

  Jacqui stopped putting her clothes away. She knew that the right thing to do was to follow Mara and get everything prepared for the kids tomorrow. But Philippe was still smiling at her, a dazzling preponderance of shiny white teeth and blue eyes. He reached under the bed and brought out a half-empty bottle of Bacardi. “Help me finish this?” he asked.

  “I guess I am kind of thirsty . . .” Jacqui allowed. She had sworn to herself that she was really going to be better this summer: she was going to keep her head down, she was going to help Mara take care of the kids, she was going to study for that uh, test thing, S-A . . . whatever was it called again. . . .

  She exhaled loudly, squaring her shoulders, and looked straight into his eyes. “But you know what? I think I’ll just catch up with you later,” she told Philippe, running out of the room before he could say her name again in that sexy accent of his.

  reunited, and it feels so . . . awkward

  MARA WOKE UP EARLY THEIR FIRST DAY IN THE AU PAIRS’ room, tossing off the sheets and yawning. Jacqui was snoozing on the top bunk, and Philippe was snoring loudly under a mountain of blankets on the single bed. Last night, she and Jacqui had returned to the room to find Philippe smoking cigarettes and playing solitaire card games by himself. They’d joined him for a few hands of hearts before turning in early.

  Mara had spent most of yesterday evening skulking around the main house, hoping to catch Ryan, without any luck. Knowing he always got up early to surf before breakfast, she’d set the alarm and hoped to catch him on his way out. She was extra-careful to put on a cute outfit—a pale-green shrunken T-shirt that showed off her small waist, and Jessica Simpson–like cutoff jean shorts that showed off her legs. She put her long brown hair in a messy ponytail, taking care to frame a few loose tendrils around her face.

  Unfortunately, there was no sign of Ryan in his wet suit checking the weather on the flat-screen TV in the kitchen, or waxing down his board in the driveway. Mara stared at the parked Aston Martin, as if willing Ryan to appear. Her shoulders slumped as she walked back into the house, wondering if he was avoiding her. Back in the kitchen, she helped herself to a cup of yogurt and heard voices coming from the patio. Her stomach clenched out of nervousness, and she opened the sliding door.

  Ryan was standing on the terrace, talking to a tall, blond girl. He looked up, startled, when he saw Mara. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and faded jeans, and was holding a sleeping bag under one arm and an Igloo cooler in the other. His hair was comically tousled, sticking out in every direction, and he had pillow creases on his cheek, but they only made him look more adorable. As usual, he was barefoot, and his toes were covered with sand.

  “Hey!” he said, and for an instant, Mara caught a glimpse of his open, dimpled smile, but it soon vanished into an embarrassed grimace. “Mara—I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I got in yesterday,” she said, forcing a light tone. Who the hell was this girl? “Sorry for interrupting.”

  Ryan dropped his things and walked toward her, his arms extended. “Not at all. It’s great to see you,” he said, making sure not to make contact with any part of her body other than her back, which he thumped as if she were one of his soccer teammates. She smelled the saltwater in his hair, which reminded her painfully of last summer.

  “You too,” she said, finding it difficult to breathe.

  He was even more gorgeous than she’d remembered. The sun had lightened his hair, and his green eyes sparkled in his darkly tanned face. He moved with the same easy grace, projected the same laid-back, down-to-earth vibe. The kind of guy who’d been born with everything and hadn’t let that happy accident spoil him one bit. Mara had always thought he was way out of her league—but for one week last summer, he’d been blessedly, deliciously, gloriously hers. And now she wanted him back.

  “Allison was just giving me a ride home,” Ryan explained, introducing the girls to each other. “Remember my friend Oz? He had a bonfire last night,” he said, looping his arm around the six-foot-tall Charlize Theron clone. Allison was wearing a thin white tank top and drawstring pajamas. Her hair was messy and uncombed, but Mara noted how effortlessly sexy she looked. This was not a girl who took half an hour choosing just the right outfit and pulling tendrils out of her ponytail.

  “And this one was in no condition to drive!” Allison cooed, tickling Ryan’s stomach.

  “Hey!” Ryan protested, smacking her hands away. They wrestled, and Allison pretended to get upset when Ryan caught her hands behind her back.

  Mara watched them flirt, her stomach tightening. Just a year ago she and Ryan had spent almost every night of the last week entwined in each other’s arms and telling each other their deepest, darkest secrets. She remembered every scar on his body (the one from when he blasted his knee skiing, the one down the side of his right calf from wiping out on his skateboard), every story he’d told her about growing up (Christmases in Maine, his Outward Bound safari in Kenya, how he still had lunch with his old Latin professor in New York), and especially the way his nose crinkled when he closed his eyes and kissed her. Even though Mara knew she was the one who’d broken up with him, it hurt to see him flirt with someone else.

  Mara was relieved when the show was over, but felt anxious when Ryan took a seat next to her on the patio table. Allison mentioned something about being cold, and Mara watched the girl’s long, lithe figure glide to where a jeep was parked on the sand. They had driven up the back way, onto the private beachfront that bordered the Perry estate, which meant that Allison came from a family that also owned a mansion on Georgica, since the back roads were all private. Allison was exactly the kind of girl a guy like Ryan Perry was meant to be with. Mara put down her yogurt cup; she’d lost her appetite.

  Allison bounded back up to the patio, wearing a boy-sized Dartmouth sweatshirt. Mara remembered that Ryan had wanted to go to Dartmouth and wondered if he’d gotten in. Allison promptly sat on Ryan’s lap.

  “What’s this?” Allison asked, poking at an exotic-looking fruit display in the middle of the table.

  “That’s a persimmon,” Ryan said, pointing to what looked like a squashed orange tomato. “And this is a rambutan,” he explained, holding up a prickly red ball. “Anna gets them shipped in from Indonesia.”

  One of Anna’s many pretensions was snobbery over the local produce. Even if the Hamptons were famous for their plump strawberries, peaches, and pears, rare, expensive and imported always trumped fresh and available.

  “How do I open this?” Allison asked.

  Ryan showed her how to delicately peel the skin, exposing the white jellylike substance inside.

  “Yum!” Allison said, chewing. She
peeled another and fed it to Ryan, who rewarded her with a kiss. They laughed and giggled, and Mara felt like she might vomit. She slid her chair back to get up.

  “So, how was the Jitney? Crowded?” Ryan asked, finally looking in her direction.

  She shook her head. “No—I flew. Anna set it up so I could ride with the Reynoldses on their jet.”

  “Really?” Allison interjected. “What’s it like? I heard it’s so tacky!” she said, her eyes wide.

  “It’s a new G5,” Mara retorted, remembering what Garret had told her about the plane. “It’s actually really nice,” she added, feeling defensive.

  “I bet,” Ryan said, and Mara thought she heard a bite in his tone.

  “Garrett is really sweet. He said he knows you,” Mara said, deciding to feel Ryan out.

  “He used to be a good friend of mine,” Ryan said, his face stony. “But he’s not anymore.”

  Just then, a piercing whistle interrupted the early-morning silence, and they looked up to see the object of their conversation standing in front of the dirt path between the two houses, holding up a tennis ball. “Bounced over the fence,” Garrett Reynolds explained. He was wearing crisp tennis whites and looked like a Ralph Lauren model.

  “Hey,” Ryan grunted.

  “Hi, Gar,” Allison cooed. “Heard you guys got some new wings.”

  Garrett nodded, smiling. He shambled over, pointing a finger at Mara. “Hi, gorgeous. We on for tomorrow night? I hope you’ve changed your mind. I’ve got the best table at the American reserved.”

  Just yesterday, Mara had gently turned him down for a date, but after the display Ryan had just put on with Allison, she decided to change course. Mara smiled winningly back at Garrett. “Sure, why not?” she told him.

  “Good girl. Pick you up at seven.” Garrett grinned. “ ’Bye, Ali. Later, Perry,” he told Ryan, bouncing the tennis ball on his racket as he disappeared behind the hedges.

  Ryan cleared his throat. “Well. Have fun tomorrow night,” he said brusquely. “By the way, I think Laurie’s in her office,” he said, talking to Mara as if she was just one of the many people who worked for the Perrys. He turned back to Allison, helping her up from her seat, and the two of them disappeared into the house.

  Everything Mara had been hoping for—getting back together with Ryan, the two of them picking up exactly where they’d left off—was dashed before the summer had even begun. But before she could sink any further into her sadness, the ground suddenly began to shake, and Mara looked out to see a silver helicopter land on the lawn, whipping the tall grass to the ground.

  An emaciated woman wearing a billowing African muumuu stepped gingerly out of the side door, futilely shielding her hairdo against the wind and yelling at the copilots. Several children tumbled out after her, screaming loudly for their breakfast.

  Anna Perry and the Perry kids had finally arrived.

  the perry kids have a lot to learn, and medication to take

  ANNA PERRY SAT IN FRONT OF THE GAMING TABLE in the Perrys’ state-of-the-art screening room, drumming her fingers against the green felt. Next to her sat Laurie, her fingers poised on a laptop computer. The sixteen-foot-wide projection screen in the front of the room showed a colorful PowerPoint presentation page that displayed PERRY CHILDREN SUMMER GOALS in marquee lettering.

  Mara sat across from them, pensive and tense after the early-morning encounter with Ryan and his new girlfriend. Next to her were two empty chairs. Jacqui and Philippe were late. A bearded, bespectacled gentleman in a shabby tweed suit, holding a notebook, sat on Anna’s left. Mara wondered who he was.

  A slim eleven-year-old girl walked in, a skinny teen Mara had spied leaving the helicopter earlier. She hadn’t recognized the girl from far away, but now she could see that she was someone very familiar indeed.

  “Madison!” Mara called. “Hi, sweetie!”

  The newly svelte Madison allowed Mara a cool nod. Last summer, Mara had been Madison’s champion, defending her against a mean ballet teacher and bucking her up when William teased her. Mara attempted a hug, but Madison stood out of arm’s reach.

  “Anna, do you like this shirt on me?” Madison asked, turning to whisper in Anna’s ear. The little girl with curly hair who favored oversized T-shirts and shorts had grown up to become a Jamie Lynn Spears clone with flat-ironed locks, wearing bootleg jeans and a tight tank top that showed off her midriff.

  A few minutes later, Madison kissed the air next to Anna’s cheek and pranced out the door, just as Jacqui rushed in, her hair wet, followed closely by Philippe. The two of them seemed to be sharing some secret joke, and Mara noticed Anna’s lips pucker at the sight of them.

  “Philippe! Vous vous êtes bien installé?” Anna said graciously in a perfect French accent.

  “Oui, madame, il est très beau ici,” he said, giving her the full benefit of his smile.

  Anna glowed. “Well, Kevin and I are so glad to have everyone here for the summer,” she said grandly. “I take it, Jacqui and Mara, you’ve met Philippe. Philippe, Jacqui and Mara have worked for us before, so they can fill you in if I forget to mention anything. This will be very short, as I have a committee meeting at the Parrish in a few minutes.” Anna was forever dropping names and making allusions to various nabobs of Hamptons society, which always went over the heads of the au pairs.

  “First, let me introduce you to Dr. Pell Abraham, William’s new therapist. Dr. Abraham will be monitoring William for his hyperactivity disorder. Jacqui, I don’t need to remind you what happened in Palm Beach. Needless to say, we can’t have that happen again. My scars have disappeared with laser therapy, thank God. Laurie, can we have the lights, please?” Anna asked. “First slide. Thank you,” she said, as the PowerPoint page gave way to a screen showing a photo of William sticking his tongue out, next to a bullet-pointed list of his “issues.” At Anna’s direction, Laurie had put together a PowerPoint presentation on the Perry children, as neatly organized and soullessly rendered as a corporate sales pitch.

  “As you can all see, we’re hoping to send William to Eton next year, and they won’t accept him if he fails to qualify due to his mental illness,” Anna said, using a laser pointer to highlight the words ADHD disorder—new prescriptions. “Dr. Abraham will be conducting experiments and focusing on how William’s family life affects his condition. Please don’t mind him as he sits in on activities or asks questions.”

  Mara blanched. Not only was Anna getting rid of the kid, she was sending him clear across the ocean. Eton was an elite English boarding school that counted the future king of England as an alumnus. Anna had found a way to further her social-climbing aspirations as well as divest herself of her most difficult stepchild. Worse yet, this summer there was going to be some weird doctor following him around and taking notes. That should do wonders for William’s behavioral problems.

  Laurie clicked the remote, and Zoë’s screen came up. “We think it would be wonderful if Zoë learned to speak another language this year. Kevin and I were so pleased when she started reading that Portuguese children’s book last summer. But we think she should really branch out to a more . . . ah, historically and culturally rich language. Something a little more challenging. We’ve chosen Russian. I studied Chekhov in college, and I think it will be wonderful for her to get a head start on the classics.”

  A seven-year-old studying Russian? How were they going to manage that? Mara had barely passed Spanish. It was just like Anna to choose a language that neither of the foreign-born au pairs spoke.

  “As for Cody, Dr. Abraham has alerted me to the fact that he has begun to exhibit warning signs that hint of a borderline personality. So he will also have to be monitored very closely.”

  Jacqui took copious notes, which Mara had to snigger at, while Philippe put his hands behind his head and kicked his chair back. He yawned openly.

  The slide clicked, showing a weekly calendar.

  “We’ve decided on a very packed schedule for them this summer. Idle hands, idle mi
nds, the devil’s playground, and all that. Sundays and Mondays are surfing in Montauk, Tuesdays are music and art appreciation, horseback riding on Wednesdays, kabala camp on Thursdays, and etiquette and ballroom dancing at the country club on Fridays. Saturdays they can do as they please, but I hope you can encourage the children to do something productive, like practice their meditation. Spirituality is so important.” Anna nodded to Laurie and the lights flashed back on.

  “Excuse me, Anna, what about Madison? Do we have any goals for her this summer?” Mara asked.

  “Madison is eleven. Too old to have an au pair anymore,” Anna said. “No need to worry about her. We’re so proud that she finally found success with her new diet!”

  * * *

  The rest of the day was a manic blur, and when the kids were safely tucked into bed, Mara and Jacqui returned, exhausted, to their room. Philippe had skipped out soon after the first disastrous tennis lesson. (William had used his racquet as a blunt instrument, Zoë swung hers like a baseball bat, and Cody could barely lift his.)

  “I’m so tired!” Jacqui said, heaving herself up with difficulty onto the top bunk. “I don’t remember last summer being this much work!”

  Mara’s mouth opened with a ready reply, but when she saw Jacqui’s face, she burst out laughing. At least Jacqui was around to lend a hand this time—who even knew where Philippe had gone?

  They’d barely had a chance to relax when the new phone began to ring.

  “Au pairs!” Mara answered, just as Anna had instructed them, even though it made her feel silly.

  “No kidding,” Eliza guffawed. “You bitches coming over or what?” she demanded. “My parents just left for the night and I just found a great mojito recipe. Bring mint!”

  when skinny-dipping at night, it helps to get sloshed