“I found it! I had to climb the ladder in the library—but, never mind. Here—Georgette told me she used to read these to dear little Tanith at bedtime. They were her favorite.” I took the book and turned it over in my hand. The title of the smooth leather volume was Poems by Victor Hugo.
#
“Honey, I’m home!” I almost died when I walked in our suite at the Pierre. It topped any other place we’d stayed—even the Amangiri. It was opulent and plush, with two separate bedrooms and a spacious living area.
Our last hotel.
Alexander was sitting in a club chair with a laptop on his lap, in an outfit I’d never seen before.
“How’d it go with Severine?”
“It was eye-opening. Aunt Georgette was . . . a bit odd.”
“I want to hear about it. Oh—when I was out, I got myself a couple things to wear—I left something in your room for you.”
“Thank you.” I stashed my bundle of baptismal clothes and the book in my room, kicked off Vera’s flats, pulled off her blazer, and eased my arms through a Pierre Hotel bathrobe.
I gave it an A+.
I modeled it for Alexander. “Very nice. Oh, I almost forgot—Bannister had something delivered for you.”
It was a heavy, cream-colored leather portfolio embossed with BANNISTER & BAINES in large gold letters—and my name, too. Inside was proof that I was not dreaming: letters printed on thick law firm paper, various bank statements, documents to review and sign covered in little arrow-shaped sticky notes—and an ATM card with my name on it.
I was going to be able to pay my father’s debt. I was going to be able to do anything I ever wanted.
I held up the ATM card and the book of checks that came with it. “Is this real?”
“Citibank would never lie to you like that.”
I stuffed my riches back into the portfolio. “Russian loan sharks accept ATM cards, right?”
He laughed. “Let’s hope so.”
I looked at him. “This is all thanks to you.”
He shot me a pointed look. “Hey, what are friends for?”
#
After a quick room service dinner, I could no longer keep my eyes open. I said goodnight to Alexander and staggered, delirious, to my room.
I hadn’t even called my father to let him know his Victor Savitch problem was taken care of.
$500,000 was a small price to pay for my dad’s life.
After the best shower of my life, I plopped down on the bed and discovered a shopping bag that contained a pair of jeans, a few soft t-shirts, and a jacket like the one I’d lost in the Vanquish. He’d even found a pair of sneakers in my size. At the bottom of the bag, I found two nightgowns. One was floor-length flannel covered in pictures of puppies. The other was delicate black silk with lace trim and a long slit up one side.
What exactly was he trying to tell me?
I tossed the silk nightgown into the bag and pulled on the flannel gown. I pulled the duvet up to my chin and started reading the little book Severine had given me.
Poems by Victor Hugo
The tiny illustration woven on the front was of a small bird perched on a bare branch. I flipped through the book and was overcome by a sweet perfume coming off the pages. I’d smelled it before, I realized with a shock. At the psychic. Did the Señora wear the same perfume? Or was it Georgette’s? I shivered a little under the duvet. One of the pages was dog-eared and marked with hearts and the title was underlined.
None of the others were marked the same way.
Be Like the Bird
Be like the bird, who
Halting in his flight
On limb too slight
Feels it give way beneath her,
Yet sings
Knowing she hath wings.
I read it three times. It captured exactly how I felt: high atop a precipice, teetering precariously in the ether. The only question was: when would I plummet back to Earth?
Chapter 19
Lacus Bonitatis ~ Lake of Goodness
My pillow was damp with sweat and the flannel around my neck was wet and cold. The entire hotel room felt like it was lurching over waves, like the cabin on the Eleanor Rigby. Puzzle pieces slid in to place.
I was in New York.
I had five million dollars in a checking account at my disposal.
I was Georgette’s heir.
I was going to be okay.
I scooted off the bed and peeked into the suite’s living room, where the couch was empty. Then I remembered—it was a two-bedroom suite. I padded through the living room to the small refrigerator by the bar and got a cold bottle of water. The curtains were open and a silvery crescent moon hung over the city. I walked to the window and marveled at the shimmering city lights.
New York was where I’d planned on spending the next four years of my life. Starting my future.
My old life.
My old future.
The road ahead had taken a dramatic and unexpected turn.
“You finally chose the correct pajamas.”
I almost jumped out of my skin.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Alexander leaned in the doorway of his bedroom in nothing but boxer shorts.
My breath hitched. “It’s okay. Thanks for the clothes.”
“What are you doing up?” He stared at me, his eyes molten. His dark hair was mussed and his skin creamy in the dim light. I wanted to press my lips to his skin and taste him.
“Uh, just getting water.” I felt my cheeks get hot. He grinned at me.
“Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”
He put his arm around my shoulder and led me to my bedroom. I tried to find the words to take back what I’d said about just being friends, to finally tell him how I felt.
He deposited me at the bed. “Get in.” My heart raced. I climbed in, secretly wanted him to jump in after me and ditch my ridiculous nightgown. Instead he waited until my head was on my pillow and then he leaned over and pulled the covers all the way up to my chin. “There, all tucked. See you in the morning.”
“Wait! Will you . . . stay with me?”
He grimaced up, stood up, and ran his hands through his hair, which made his chest muscles flex like a god. I could barely breathe as he seemed to consider my request.
“I thought you wanted to just be friends,” he said softly.
I shrugged, too mortified to answer. Why had I insisted on telling him we had to be friends? Because I was terrified of the alternative.
“I know. Maybe I was wrong.”
He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “You’re making it hard for me to be a good boy.”
I reached over and grabbed his hand. “Just . . . can you just stay with me? Nothing else.”
His eyes were deep and soft. “Is that what friends do?”
“Only very good friends.”
He stood in the dark for a few seconds. I ached to have him close to me—it was a habit I was having trouble breaking.
The withdrawal symptoms were killer.
“We are good friends. Which is why I insist that you get more sleep.” He leaned down and kissed me softly on my cheek. “But it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other nightgown.”
#
The black town car pulled up to the curb in front of Bergdorf Goodman. Alexander and I stood on the sidewalk waiting as the door swung open. We’d walked over from Bannister’s office, where he’d made me sign a few dozen documents, started my new will and estate plan, and had his assistant swab my mouth for a DNA sample.
I was getting the thing I’d been promised—my mother and Georgette’s fortune. But all I could think about was the thing I’d said no to.
Him.
“Thanks, A.J.,” Gretchen called out to her driver. “Meet me back here by three please.”
“Sounds good, Miss Ambrose.”
She slid out and grinned at us. “Hello, kids! Ready, Lana? Brought your newfound wealth, I hope?” She had her long hair pinned up in a messy
bun and wore big black sunglasses, black jeans with rips at the knees, high-heeled sandals, and a snug, almost sheer sleeveless black blouse that was open to her navel. She carried a massive leather tote bag that looked like A.J. could park the town car in it.
For a second Alexander looked like he was going to grab my hand, but then he shoved his hands in his pockets. She smiled at him and crossed her arms. She looked at him expectantly.
“How’d it go? Is she as rich as dad yet?”
He smirked and glanced over at me. “Richer.”
She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Lucky girl. Ready to spend some of it?”
I shifted uncomfortably in the sneakers Alexander had bought me the day before.
“I guess so.”
“Lana needs things to get her through the next few days—and maybe some stuff for school,” Alexander instructed.
“School.” Her eyes raked up and down my body. “This should be easy enough. I’ll make sure she has a dress for dinner tonight.” She beamed at Alexander. “And for the wedding. We’re doing California elegance at the best winery in Napa.”
Alexander checked his watch. “Nothing too grown up. She’s eighteen.”
“Grown up enough to choose her own clothes. Right, Lana?”
“Just nothing too . . . ” his eyes fell to Gretchen’s chest and he gestured up and down as if to indicate he didn’t want me dressing like her. The outline of her breasts was clearly visible through her blouse.
She laughed. “Oh Alex, when did you turn into such a prude? Come on, Lana. I know where they keep the nun habits.”
Inside, the store was hushed and smelled like a thousand perfumes. We took the elevator to the third floor and I followed her out. She walked briskly through the cavernous space. I hustled to keep up with her on legs that felt like stumps next to her long spaghetti strands. She stopped to examine a terrible blazer covered in nautical rope and epaulettes.
Without looking at me, she said, “I’ve been dying to ask you what you guys did for all those hours you were stuck together. You must have really gotten to know each other.” She gave me a weird look. A look like she was trying to have no look.
I silently cursed my cheeks as they heated up.
“Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, not that much. I slept a lot, since I was taking Vicodin.” She shot me a suspicious look. “I mean, only at the beginning, because I got hurt, so you know, the doctor prescribed it. But I’m better now.” She made me nervous and I couldn’t figure out why. I had no need to impress her.
But I did have secrets to keep from her.
She stepped away towards a table piled with jeans. She fingered the labels and pulled out a pair.
In desperation, I tried to change the subject. “How did you and Roy meet?”
“He was the photographer in my New York Magazine spread last year. ‘40 Under 40.’ Did you see it?” I shook my head. “What are you in jeans, a twenty-eight?”
“Um, twenty-four, maybe.”
She looked at me with an arched eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”
An older saleswoman approached us in a dark gray pantsuit. She had a perfect blonde bob and a baby smooth face. “Miss Ambrose, hello! Looking for something special today?”
“Hi, Marjorie. Yes. This is my cousin Lana, and she needs everything. Including a dress for my wedding.”
The sales woman sized me up and nodded. “I’ll bring some dresses over. You’ll find most of what she needs in Contemporary.”
“Perfect, thanks.” Gretchen handed me a stack of jeans to try on. “Start with these. I’ll get you some other stuff while you try.”
“Okay. But you know, I’m starting college in August at Barnard, so I don’t need too many fancy outfits.”
She looked startled. “You’re moving to New York? That’s interesting. Good school.” She thumbed through a rack of draped blouses. “Barnard is all girls, isn’t it?” Her bright blue eyes examined me sharply.
“Ah, yeah. And so was my high school,” I said. Boys had not been on my mind when I was applying to colleges.
A sly smile flitted across Gretchen’s lips. “Do you not like boys, Lana?”
I stared at her over the pile of clothes in my arms. “Huh?”
“These days, isn’t Barnard for girls who aren’t, you know, into boys?” She gestured for me to follow her towards the dressing rooms. Her arms were loaded down with piles of sweaters and blouses and pants. I realized she was asking about my romantic preferences.
“My mom went there, that’s pretty much the main reason I applied. And it was the farthest place from Sonoma that I got into.”
She laughed. “I get that.” She dropped her pile on the padded bench in the huge changing room. “Well?”
“Well what?” I dropped my stack onto the bench and tried to decide how many hours trying it all on would take. I might be sleeping overnight in the dressing room. She turned and stepped closer. Her face was beautiful but a little strange. Alien. She made me nervous. Maybe because she was five inches taller than me. Alexander had said she was a little unstable. What did that mean?
She reached over and ruffled my hair. “And the haircut.” I instinctively stepped away from her and smoothed my hair down.
“What about it?”
She shrugged. “You can tell me, we’re family now, right?”
“Tell you what?” I stared at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Does Alexander know?”
“Know WHAT?”
“That you like girls. God knows I did my fair share of experimenting when I was younger.”
I stared at her in shock. For a second I considered telling her I WAS a lesbian so she’d stop prying. “Pretty sure my college choice and my hair have literally nothing to do with that.”
“So you like boys?”
My throat tightened up. I liked one boy, and one boy only.
“I don’t like any one boy at the moment, but I prefer them to girls, yes. But It’s really none of your business and I don’t want to . . . ” my voice trailed off as her eyebrow slowly rose and she bit her lip. “What?” I asked.
Her blue eyes pierced through me and for a panicky second I thought she could read my mind. “Oh, it’s just that the Alex I know would never put himself in a situation where he might be . . . tempted.” My heart started to thump in my chest.
“Oh? Tempted to do what?” I asked, trying to sound bored.
“You don’t know my stepbrother, but let’s just say he has his . . . weaknesses. And you’re not blood related but still . . . I’m frankly surprised he didn’t at least try to shag you. Because that would be a first.”
For a second I couldn’t breathe. She was confirming my worst fears: he’d hit on anything that moved and I was just the closest moving object. The pit in my stomach felt like a leaden weight. I put on my most confident, breezy smile and rolled my eyes.
“Really, Gretchen? We’re cousins, remember? I’m sure some girls think he’s cute, but he’s not my type at all.”
“Cute is not a word usually used to describe him. You were alone in his car and in all those hotels together for how many days?”
“We always had separate rooms.”
“Are you in separate rooms at the Pierre?”
I stared at her as my face got hotter. “What are you accusing me of?” I bent down to slip off my shoes so she couldn’t see the guilt in my eyes. “It’s not really your business, Gretchen.” I refused to play her game.
She scowled. “Okay, okay, I’m not trying to upset you. Hey, it’s cool if you’re bi or whatever they call it. Every teenager I meet thinks they’re gay these days.” She sighed. “On the commune, no one had those labels. We just were.” I wondered how long until I could get away from Alexander’s crazy stepsister. Not soon enough.
“Gretchen, Alexander could probably get any girl he wanted.”
“‘Probably’ is an understatement.”
“Right. So why would he bother with me? Besides, I’
m much too young for him. He likes cougars.” She froze in the middle of handing me a pair of black pants she’d picked out. She recovered with a little smile.
“It’s true, he used to date women slightly older than him. But they weren’t exactly old.” She opened her mouth and then closed it. “You shouldn’t be so humble, Lana. You’d be quite pretty if you grew your hair out. Maybe did something about the freckles. And you do have a ridiculous figure.” She examined me like I was a horse she was appraising. “Roy’s a photographer, there are always young interns at his agency. He can set you up on some dates if you like.”
“Sure, sounds great,” I lied. The idea of a blind date with her fiancé’s intern made me nauseous. She sat down on the bench and took out her phone.
I cleared my throat. “Gretchen?”
“You don’t mind if I stay, do you?”
I minded for many reasons. Mostly because it was weird. But also because of my scars and bruises, which were still plenty visible.
“Actually, yes.”
She looked up at me defiantly and stood up. “Teenagers are so modest these days. I grew up sunbathing topless, Lana. My brothers hated it.”
I stood there waiting for her to leave. She sighed and finally got up. “Just come out and show me anything you like. I have an excellent eye.”
#
Alexander wasn’t in the room when I got back, but he’d left a note on a small wrapped box.
“Had to run out. Got you one last thing—do NOT lose this one.”
It was another iPhone, to replace the one that had sunk with the Vanquish. I sprawled out on the bed and quickly set it up. I dialed the number I’d memorized. Alexander’s home.
“Hi Dad, it’s me. Guess what? We’re really, really rich.”
Chapter 20
Sinus Concordiae ~ Bay of Harmony
He told you about the old lady’s will at your high school graduation? How tacky.” Soren lit another clove cigarette and blew the smoke out in rings. We were sitting on the patio of a five-star restaurant in a fancy brownstone. Twinkling lights were strung everywhere. Soren was the only one not dressed up—he wore baggy, paint-stained jeans and a rumpled Hawaiian shirt. He had close cropped steel gray hair and a five-inch long gray beard.
Valley of Fire (Valley of the Moon Book 2) Page 18
