Beach Lane (6 page)

Raw food?
Mara wondered.
What the hell?

The Christian Dior halter?
Eliza mused.
Or the Gucci tank top?

Water, I need water,
Jacqui wheezed. All that whiskey in the car was giving her a premature hangover.

“Zoë is six and is starting first grade in the fall. I want her to learn to read this summer. We sent her to the best kindergarten and pre-K and she still can’t do her ABCs. It’s so embarrassing.” Anna shook her head.

Six years old. Reading. Got it,
Mara thought.

Or maybe the Dolce mini?
Eliza wondered.

Jacqui was starting to feel faint from dehydration. She gripped the edge of her seat to keep herself upright.

“And as for Cody . . .” Anna’s visage softened slightly. “The baby has got to conquer his fear of water. I mean, we’re in the Hamptons . . . and he won’t even go in the pool!

“What else? Oh. House rules. Curfew is midnight. It’s the same for the twins. Ryan you’ve met. You can drive any car that’s not being used, and you’ll need to, to get into town and take Zoë and Madison to ballet and yoga and William to his three therapists. Every Sunday we’ll all sit down for a weekly progress meeting. You’ll be paid in three installments, the first is in a few
weeks. Other than that, we don’t really have a lot of rules here.”

Well, that was good to know
, thought Mara.

Thank God,
thought Eliza.

Water,
thought Jacqui.

“Lastly, I absolutely
insist
that you girls have a great summer with us. Like we said in the ad—this is going to be the summer of your life! Please make yourselves at home, and we’ll see you later at the barbecue?”

“Sounds like fun,” Mara said.

“We’ll be there,” Eliza assured Anna. Seared tuna, avocado salad? She was famished!

Jacqui nodded.

“Ciao,” Anna said with a wave of her hand. They were dismissed.

“Uh—honey . . .,” Kevin Perry said.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think they should
meet
the kids?”

where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire

“SO WHAT DID YOU THINK OF MOMZILLA?” ELIZA
asked when they were back in their rooms.

“
Problema.
Women like that at my store.
Dios mio.
Never satisfied,” Jacqui prophesied.

“How do you know them?” Mara asked.

“Long story.” Eliza shrugged. What business was it of theirs? “My dad went to college with Kevin. He called asking if I was available for the summer. I’m only doing this as a favor. I know these kids. Absolute terrors. My advice? Stay as far away from them as possible.”

Well, that wasn’t really practical, Mara thought, since they were hired to take care of them.

“Anna’s a total witch, too. She’s his second wife. Cody—the three-year-old—is the only one that’s hers. The others are Brigitte’s. She was crazy. Anna was Kevin’s personal assistant. She was having an affair with him for years,” Eliza said as she checked herself out in the mirror. White halter top, sequin-embellished
miniskirt, white sandals with satin ties that laced up the calf—yes, that would work for tonight. Jacqui pulled on a pair of low-waisted jeans and a tube top. Mara changed out of her stinky poly-blend blouse for a T-shirt, shorts, and sneakers.

Second wife. Stepkids. Personal assistants. Affairs. It was too much for Mara. Had she walked into some whacked-out soap opera? She was still wondering how she was going to heat Madison’s food to only “100 degrees Fahrenheit so as not to spoil its natural essence.”

At sunset the three walked toward the pool, where the smell of gasoline hung heavy in the air. Packs of hamburger meat, hot dogs, and sesame buns were stacked next to an open, smoking grill. Finding no one around, the three girls sat around the table, which had been set for dinner with a white linen tablecloth, sterling silver cutlery, and porcelain plates.

“She said seven, right?” Eliza asked.

“Yeah,” Mara said, feeling a little apprehensive. Something was wrong here.

Jacqui got up. “Where do you think the wine is?” she asked, poking in the Igloo cooler she found near the pots of citronella candles.

Suddenly all four kids burst through the screen door, clamoring for food.

“Something smells,” William said, wrinkling his nose at the smoking fire pit.

“Is something burning?” Madison asked.

“I’m hungry,” Zoë said.

“Me too,” Eliza replied. What was going on? Where were the eats?

“Camille always made me a double cheeseburger,” Madison said. “With lots of onions and pickles,” she added hopefully.

“Who’s Camille?” Mara asked.

“She was here three days ago,” Madison said, playing with her napkin. “But she did a bad thing and had to go away.”

Just then Anna wafted by, humming to herself. She was wearing a grass skirt over her bikini and had put an orchid in her hair (which was still showing slight aftereffects of William’s water attack). “The invitation said Hula Couture,” she said with a laugh, walking out to the patio. “Isn’t this fun? I got Michael Kors to sew it up for me.”

Kevin followed, wearing a formal tuxedo jacket over his Hawaiian shirt.

“Is everyone having a lovely time?” Anna asked.

“No!” William roared. “There’s nothing to eat!”

“We’re hungry!” Madison whined.

“What?” Anna said, walking over to investigate. She found the three au pairs sitting at the table in front of empty plates. “Why isn’t anything ready? I distinctly remembered informing you we were having a barbecue tonight.”

“Oh!” Mara said.

They had assumed they were
invited
to the barbecue. None of them had realized they were supposed to be
cooking
it.

“You said to be here by seven,” Eliza said weakly.

There was a frosty silence as the misunderstanding sank in.

Anna frowned. “Huh. Well, Kevin and I have to get to the party in a few minutes, so I guess it doesn’t matter. You can take them to Main Beach afterward to see the fireworks.”

“No problem, we’ll get on it right away,” Mara said, standing by the grill and handing Jacqui a flipper.

“And remember the tuna for Madison,” Anna reminded them as she hoofed it out of the patio without saying good-bye to the kids.

“Mama! Mama! Cody wanna Mama!” the baby cried after her.

“Sh . . . shh . . .,” Mara said soothingly. “Mara’s here.”

But Cody continued to howl.

“This is bullsh—,” Eliza said, catching herself, as grease splattered on her skirt and Jacqui burned another patty.

Mara pried the tuna off the grill. She wondered if it was safe to feed it to Madison; didn’t fish need to be cooked? Mara decided to keep it where it was. Hopefully Anna wouldn’t find out she had broken the raw food rule on the first night. She’d have to remember to ask Madison who this Camille was and why she was sent away.

“Don’t they have a chef?” Mara asked. She had observed enough servants around the property.

“Uh-huh. Cordon Bleu. But he doesn’t do kiddie meals apparently. It’s probably below him.” Eliza shrugged. She was used to handling difficult help. Laurent, their former French chef, refused
to cook anything other than five-star meals. He would throw a tantrum when her dad demanded a well-done steak. Her mother eventually had to replace him with someone more flexible.

“Hey, did anyone see the rest of the ahi?” Eliza asked.

“There’s just this itty piece,” Mara said.

Jacqui shrugged. She’d found a six-pack of beer underneath the soda cans and had helped herself to one. “Miller Lite?” she offered.

Eliza shook her head. She unwrapped all the waxed paper packages in a panic, but they all contained ground meat. Apparently Anna had decided not to waste the precious tuna on the likes of them.

The reality of her status finally sank in: she had been installed in an attic room instead of the corner bedroom. Fed burgers instead of tuna steak. She wasn’t a guest on the Perry estate. Eliza Thompson, former “it girl,” was now the help.

main beach: you can only keep eliza down for so long

THE BEACH WAS AS CROWDED AS CENTRAL PARK DURING
a Dalai Lama blessing or a free White Stripes concert. The fireworks show had begun, and as rockets whizzed up to the heavens, Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony thundered from temporary overhead speakers. Stylish picnickers popping champagne corks and feasting on three-pound lobsters sat on checkered tablecloths and sent fuzzy photos via their cell phones to provide latecomers with location coordinates. Almost no one looked up. They had better things to do, like blanket-hop to exchange effusive double-cheek air kisses and discreetly check out each other’s flowered Murakami handbags.

The three au pairs secured a place on top of the hill, primo real estate, thanks to Eliza’s pushiness. She found them a postage-stamp-sized area bordered by two identical silk jacquard blankets and managed to expand their territory by letting Cody cry his lungs out as the rockets boomed. Nothing like an irritable toddler to motivate self-involved single Hamptonites to get out of the way.

Mara couldn’t help but overhear some of the chatter around them.

“How’s the black truffle ravioli?” a woman asked her guests as she handed out monogrammed china filled with plump, glistening pasta and smothered with a white cream sauce.

“Superb. And the
cervelle de canut
is divine with this Reisling.”

“Did someone bring the opera glasses?” another asked, motioning for a pair of binoculars.

She had never seen anyone picnic like this before. Back home, picnics meant a couple of sandwiches, a bag of chips, and a liter of soda. Not a four-course menu with a different wine accompaniment for each entrée. Wresting her eyes away from the neighboring sheets, Mara turned back to her own group.

“Madison, where did you find that candy bar?” she asked.

Madison looked up guiltily and stuffed the entire Snickers bar in her mouth for fear of having it taken away. Mara shook her head. She would have to find out where the kid hid her stash or they were all dead. She did a quick head count. One, two, three . . . That couldn’t be right. “William! Eliza, Jacqui, have you seen William?!” she asked.

The two shrugged indifferently.

“You guys stay here; I’ll try to find him,” Mara said, beginning to panic. She walked carefully around the perimeter, calling his name as softly as she could. “William?” she whispered. “William? Where are you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, tiptoeing by an uproarious group of
clean-cut guys in matching khaki pants and Teva sandals, puffing on cigars as they cheered the spectacle in the sky.

“No worries. Why don’t you join us?” one asked, offering her a plastic cup filled with bubbly.

“No thanks. I’m just looking for a little boy.” Mara shook her head.

“We’re all big boys here.” He winked. “C’mon, stay awhile.” He looked about twenty-two, red cheeked, and well meaning, but she wasn’t interested in older guys (even older guys with the maturity of teenagers).

“Really, I can’t. I’m working.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an au pair.”

And with those four little words, his posture changed. He raked his eyes over her body. “Then you’ve got absolutely no excuse
not
to stay. It’s not like you’ve got a real job, right?”

Mara turned away without answering him, completely offended.

“WILLIAM!!” Mara began to yell in desperation, not caring if she caused a scene. The hyperactive nine-year-old finally reappeared, making airplane noises and screaming every time the rockets boomed.

“Don’t ever do that again!” Mara scolded. “You can’t just disappear like that! It’s not safe!”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” William screamed. “YOU’RE NOT MY MOMMY!”

“I know I’m not your mommy, but I work for your mommy.”

“No, you don’t—you work for ANNA,” William spat.

Back at the blanket, Mara recounted what the Dartmouth-undergrad-look-alike had said to her. “It was like I said ‘au pair’ but he heard ‘hooker’!”

Eliza rolled her eyes. She could have warned her about using the “
a
” word to describe herself. “Most of the young investment banker types around here think au pairs are easy summer lays with little or no responsibility. Stay away from them; they rent tract homes in Westhampton and are totally not worth your while,” Eliza advised.

Madison removed a Ziploc full of gummi bears from her pocket. She nudged her brother. “The other au pairs were a lot nicer.”

“Wait. What other au pairs?” Mara demanded.

“Camille, Tara, and Astrid. They were taking care of us because Nanny went back to England this summer,” Zoë piped up.

“What happened to them?” Eliza wanted to know.

“They were fired,” William said gleefully. “It was funny.” He hugged his knees, remembering how the Porsche Cayenne careened through the streets of East Hampton and screeched to a halt at the Jitney stop and how his stepmother used bad, bad words as she threw their suitcases out of the window.

“Fired?” Mara asked, a chill in her heart. The possibility had never occurred to her. That would totally ruin her plans to earn enough money for her college tuition.

Fired?
Eliza thought. Now, that would definitely complicate matters. She was supposed to spend the whole summer here—God help them if they tried to ship her back to Buffalo.

Jacqui didn’t much care about being fired. As long as they did it after she found Luca.

“I miss them,” Zoë said. “Tara was supposed to braid my hair today.”

But before they could ask them any more questions about this mystery, a particularly loud firecracker exploded and Cody started to bawl again.

“Oh my God, can you hold him? What should we do?” Eliza said, thrusting the toddler into Mara’s arms.

“Shh . . . shh . . .,” Mara said, rocking him on her lap and trying to hum a lullaby.

“Thees one says she’s a little hungry,” Jacqui said, pointing to Madison. “Maybe we give her something?” she asked when Mara had her back turned.