Cherry Money Baby (28 page)

“And whatever it is,” Ardelia said, “we’ll forgive each other, won’t we?”

Cherry didn’t know what to say. Ardelia held her hand across the aisle, and she took it. The sun had climbed a little higher. It was just the two of them, awake in the sky. Far away.

Somewhere, underneath the clouds, was everything.

The hilltop town of Orchard — with its view, remote location, and sterling local cuisine — had turned a sleepy village into a retreat for the super-rich. Beyond the small main street with its antiques, farmers’ markets, and other shops flourishing on the easy dollars of movie stars, the town was mostly scattered manor houses lurking behind old-growth firs, some new and stylish, but mostly rambling mansions older than the advent of the automobile. Cherry glimpsed a few as they drove down a quiet back road. Some appeared to be crumbling, as if struck by falling rocks.

Ardelia Deen was not rich because she was a movie star. Her family had money going back generations, which, much to Cherry’s confusion, didn’t seem to
come
from anywhere. Rich people in America worked for big companies or had parents who worked for big companies. But in England you were just
rich,
the way some people were just tall or agoraphobic.

Cherry felt relieved. She was in a storybook world, or at least some movie based on a Jane Austen novel. The thrill of the new place, plus the joy at being on solid ground again, made her giddy, almost drunk.

The Deens’ house, Liddell Manor (that was the other odd thing about England: houses had names), was at the highest point of the hill, near a cherry grove in full bloom. The upper stories were scalloped with cloud-like balconies, and rooftop garrets formed a mini–mountain range. The long road they’d been riding on turned out to be a private drive, Liddell Way, with a gate at the end.

Cherry whistled as they pulled onto the property.

“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?”