Love-in-Idleness (3 page)

CAN WE FINISH TALKING LATER?

              She tapped the word TOMORROW into her phone and hit send. She hoped he would let it go for tonight. It seemed like all they did lately was talk. With their senior year approaching and her changing schools, he was having a sudden attack of insecurity. Her moved to the city had shaken him. He wanted her to make declarations about what their future held, but Grace didn’t really think it was necessary. Ryder was her oldest friend. He had become her boyfriend in the past few years, and she adored him. However, her pragmatic nature kept her from making promises that she had no idea whether or not she’d be able to keep. She believed that he was just feeling needy because of her move to Manhattan, but honestly, she didn’t really need the added pressure right now. Theo was getting married in a few days and she was hoping he could hold out a bit longer. She really needed to get through the wedding before she had any life-altering discussions.

               As she put her
phone away, she spotted the small sketch pad that she carried with her and vaguely recalled having recently drawn a picture of the strange rooftop home that sat on top of her building. Finding the picture, she held it up to the real thing, checking it for accuracy. In her picture, there were storm clouds and lightning. The thin trees were bent, as if forced to the side by a strong wind. She made the top of the structure look like a bell tower, in the top of which lurked a shadowy figure.

         
              “Perfect,” she whispered to herself.

“Nice sketch,” a gentle voice remarked from behind her. Grace turned to see an almost unnaturally good-looking boy sitting two steps behind her. He was about her age, with dark wavy hair that was just long enough to brush his high cheekbones. Thick dark lashes framed his indigo eyes.  She studied his face, the creamy skin and perfectly defined angles, before he spoke again, startling her back to reality. She'd never seen anyone so beautiful, male or female.

               “What’s with the storm and the spooky shadow?” he asked, looking at the picture again and pointing to the rooftop where the unusual building sat. “I see blue skies and an elegant apartment,” he observed, gesturing toward the building in question with his open hands as if he were framing a masterpiece.

               Grace shrugged.  “Call it an interpretation. My dad’s new boss lives there.”

               “You don’t like him?”

               “I haven’t met him yet. I’ll meet him in about an hour, I guess. He’s coming over with his sons for a snooty dinner.” Grace looked at her watch, and jumped up. “Actually, it’s more like 45 minutes from now. I really should go.”

               The handsome boy stood up as well. “I should go, too. I have my own snooty dinner to attend.” As Grace began to walk away, he fell in alongside her. “I have to meet the new lawyer in my father’s firm. Some guy he brought up from Brooklyn. I’m supposed to make a good impression on his daughter.”

               As Grace suddenly realized who she was talking to, she stopped in her tracks and turned toward him. “You’re Oberon’s son, aren’t you? One of them, anyway.” She thought back to what Gianni told her about the boys. One was devastatingly handsome and sweet. The other was slightly less handsome and a little on the serious side. There was no question as to which one this was. He was absolutely breathtaking. “You’re Cameron.” She held out her hand. “I’m Grace. But I guess you knew that.”

               “Yes. Well, everyone calls me Cam, but I’m still pleased to meet you,” he said formally and shook her hand. “I had a hunch you were Theo’s daughter. It wasn’t hard to match you to my father’s description. He said that you were a tiny girl with tons of auburn hair and ice blue eyes. Now that we’ve met, would you care to tell me why you’ve drawn my house to look like something from an Edgar Allen Poe story?”

               Grace couldn’t help but smile. He must drive the girls crazy, she thought. “It just seems a bit like some strange fairytale,” she began, “that a mystery man appears out of nowhere and offers Theo this prestigious job. What possible interest could Miles Oberon have in an estate lawyer from Brooklyn?”

               Cameron smiled broadly at her and, for just a moment, Grace felt her knees buckle. His gaze was so deliberate, so focused on only her, that she was instantly filled with the joy of having Cameron’s full attention.  As she collected herself, he commented, “Don’t worry. People usually find that my father has a plan. If they go along for the ride, they are never disappointed.” He chuckled. “Just don’t marry him.”

Grace decided to let the last comment slide. When they arrived at the building in which they both lived, Cam stepped to the side to let her enter first, as Julius, the middle-aged, slightly corpulent doorman, held the door wide for them. Cam nodded his appreciation in Julius’s direction, but Grace doubled back before she passed the threshold.

               “Julius, is your daughter feeling better?” she asked. Julius was the only person in the building that struck Grace as normal. She had gotten to know him a bit and liked his complete and utter lack of pretension. He was just a guy working for a paycheck. Grace respected that.

               “She’s fine, Gracie. All better.” Julius grinned at her. “Now go upstairs. You have a fancy dinner to eat.”

               “See you later.” She waved. Cameron was waiting for her in the lobby.

               “Julius has a daughter?” he asked.

               “He has three daughters,” Grace replied. “I’ve been here for four weeks. You’ve been here your whole life. How do you
not
know about Julius’s family?”

               Cameron shrugged and pushed the elevator button. “I guess I never asked.” As the lift arrived, they slid through the open doors.

              Grace reached past Cam to hit the button for the eighth floor. “That kills me about people in this neighborhood. You don’t talk to each other. You probably don’t know anyone in the building.”

               “You’re wrong. I know a lot of people.” At that moment, the elevator stopped at the third floor, and a tall elegant woman covered head to toe in Prada entered. She smiled at Cam as she pushed the button for the fourth floor. Cameron waited for her to exit and said, “I know her. She’s an actress.”

               “Everyone knows her,” Grace snapped. “She’s wicked famous.”

               “Not everyone knows that she bought an apartment on the fourth floor for her mother.”

               Grace sighed. “That doesn’t count. That’s something that you know about her. That’s not like really knowing her. It’s just gossip.”

               Cameron gave her another mesmerizing smile and said, “I guess you’ve given me something to think about.”

               The door slid open and Grace walked out. Cam called after her, “See you in half an hour.” She could feel his eyes following her until the elevator doors closed. Tonight’s dinner would definitely be interesting.

Grace tried to avoid being noticed as she closed the front door quietly behind her and walked softly but rapidly to her room to change. Once inside, she turned the knob and closed the door so that it made no sound whatsoever before she slowly released the doorknob. Only when she was securely inside did she breathe.

Before putting her best face forward with the Oberon family, she needed a moment to unwind. Ryder’s neediness and Cameron’s charm had both made her uneasy. Her bedroom was the one place where she might have a chance of putting her head right.

Grace kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed. Leaning against the headrest, she looked around. Every piece of furniture, every picture had been relocated from her Brooklyn bedroom into this new room. While the new space was substantially larger, she’d done her best to adapt her spacing, which gave the illusion that her old belongings were somehow smaller. She didn’t care. She loved every single memory that accompanied these things, from her mother’s vanity to the orange stuffed rabbit that shared her crib when she was a baby. The only new addition to the decor was the porcelain vase she had made on the last day she attended her old school. As a way of honoring the lesson she learned through the assignment that led her to create it, she glazed it white, which allowed the tiny imperfections to remain undisguised and empty.

She was just beginning to feel calm when there was a knock on her door.

“Grace,” Gianni called. “It’s time for you to come to the table. Don’t be late.” Gianni’s voice was low and harsh, as if she had been gargling whiskey.

           “Start without me,” Grace snapped back as she looked at her watch. Technically, she still had plenty of time. Gianni was just being a pain.

           “Hurry,” Gianni ordered. “Your father wants you at the table on time. Move your prissy butt.”

           Classy, thought Grace. You don’t sound like new money at all.

           Grace was, in reality, not the least bit prissy. As she twisted her curly auburn hair into a ponytail, she checked her simple, but attractive makeup. Unlike her soon-to-be stepmother, she appreciated the clean look of brown eyeliner and clear mascara. In her mind, it was more than enough for a family dinner. Grace tried to predict what monstrous makeup and wardrobe calamity Gianni might have assembled for herself this evening. Since tonight had been presented as a simple home-cooked affair, Gianni would surely have shimmering silver eye shadow and her bleached hair teased into a Q-tip-esque poof that showed her New Jersey roots for all to see. And there would be Gianni’s personal holy trinity; sparkles, heels, and cleavage. Gianni had been flashy and vaguely pathetic before their sudden good fortune. Now she had blossomed into a full-fledged, social-climbing train wreck.

           As Grace buttoned a black silk Diane von Furstenburg blouse, she contemplated what she would have done with the money that was spent on that blouse a year ago. Three hundred dollars was six months’ allowance. She would have never blown that kind of cash on a single item of clothing. Now, she was expected to use her father’s credit card to buy whatever luxury goods were necessary to help them blend into their new environment.  Grace couldn’t imagine ever embracing conspicuous consumption the way people in this neighborhood did, as if their possessions defined them. She would need to see some redeeming qualities in someone from this part of town before she would be convinced that anyone here valued anything but the illusion of beauty, whether it was genuine or purchased.

           Grace was the last to arrive at dinner, a
faux pas
she would surely hear about later from Gianni, who had appointed herself Queen Manners. The mere concept of Gianni as the new Emily Post made Grace laugh out loud.

Theo sat
at the head of the massive, dark wood table that was supported by legs that ended in clawed lion’s feet. Every piece of furniture in the room was clearly chosen by Gianni. The chair backs were high and covered in indigo velvet. A massive mirror hung on the wall, along the long side of the table. The worst part of the room, though, was the chandelier. Gianni was insanely proud of the cut glass monstrosity that hovered above the table with small bulbs sending prisms of light through the room. Only a disco ball could have been a tackier choice.  Theo seemed oblivious to his fiancé’s atrocious decorating taste. The day he came home and saw the dining room, Grace was hoping he would throw a fit, but Theo just kissed Gianni and asked if she was happy. He was clearly brainwashed.

  Theo was always handsome, but ton
ight he looked especially dashing in his tailored suit. Gianni, who normally sat at the other end of the long table like a scene from Citizen Cane, relinquished her normal spot to their guest of honor for the evening. She sat, instead, by Theo’s side, holding a glass of red wine that was filled nearly to the brim. As Grace predicted, she was wearing a low-cut, tight red dress with a sequined neckline. Yep, thought Grace, just dinner at home.

           Opposite Theo, in the seat of honor, was Miles Oberon, senior partner of Theo’s new law firm. Like Theo, he was handsome in a distinguished graying way. Both
men were aging well. Seated near Mr. Oberon were two boys about the same age as Grace.  One was tall and thin. Even seated, his shoulders sat a couple of inches higher than the other boy’s. He had a slender face and a slightly curved nose that gave him a sharp appearance. Somehow, he managed to pull it off. He was still better-looking than any of the boys that Grace went to school with in Brooklyn.  The other was Cameron.

           Theo rose and walked to his daughter as she entered the room. “Hello, sweetie,” he said quietly and kissed her cheek. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days, I’ve been so busy.”

           Grace leaned forward for a quick hug. Over her shoulder, she saw Gianni studying her glittery fingernails as if she were waiting for this embarrassing little moment to end. When Theo loosened his embrace, he led Grace gently by the elbow toward their guests for introductions.

           “Mr. Oberon, this is my daughter, Grace.”

            “You really need to start calling me Miles,” the man reminded Theo before he turned to Grace. Up close, Miles Oberon was unnaturally perfect, with high cheekbones, a thin straight nose, and pale blue eyes that seemed to be almost translucent. When Miles shook her hand in greeting and locked his gaze upon hers, she felt a vague urge to lean closer to him. Grace studied his face, trying to decide who he reminded her of. He was probably fifty years old with the rugged good looks of an cinema superspy.  It was only when he spoke to her that she snapped out of her fog.