The House Guests

by Emilie Richards

  A green sedan was parked beside two domed tents, set close together. A tall teenager with dark hair falling over his forehead was piling sticks into the bottom of the grill, and as she watched he struck a match, sending tendrils of smoke into the air.

  She took a deep breath and walked into the site. “Hi, are you Will Blair?”

  He looked up and cocked his head. “I’m Will.”

  She introduced herself. “Is your mother home?”

  “She went for a walk. Can I help?”

  She imagined what Savannah would say about this young man. He wasn’t really handsome, although she could see that he might be by the time he went to college in a year or two. No tattoos or piercings were in evidence, and his hair was too long in the front and too short in the back, as if he’d been the first customer of a beauty school trainee. All in all he looked like an ordinary teenager, but he hadn’t lived an ordinary life.

  She dredged up a smile. “I need to talk to her. Do you mind if I stay and wait? Or I can come back in a little while.”

  “She’ll be back soon. We’re making s’mores. She won’t miss that.”

  “You’re not cooking dinner on the grill? I mean I wondered if maybe I was interrupting.”

  “I might roast a hot dog on a stick to go along, but we already ate. We cook on a camp stove. Canned chili with corn. Are you staying here?”

  “No, but I wanted to sneak into the bingo game at the rec center. They were harassing the caller. It sounded interesting.” Even though shadows were deepening, she thought his eyes were wary.

  “So why are you here?” His voice was polite but firm.

  “I’ll tell you when your mom gets back. But it’s nothing to worry about.”

  “She doesn’t need more trouble.” This was even firmer.

  “I’m not here to add to her problems, I promise.” She could see she still needed to reassure him. “It’s about the money she lost. But I’d really rather tell the story once. Will you be okay with that?”

  He looked surprised, but then his expression cleared and he nodded toward the road. “There she is.”

  Cassie turned and saw a slender woman with shoulder-length red-gold hair coming toward them. Amber was younger than she was, but probably not by much. She looked pale and tired, which didn’t surprise Cassie. Even under the circumstances, she was a natural beauty. She had small, dainty features, a tiny waist, a loose stride with her shoulders back and her head high.

  “Are you lost?” Amber said, once she was standing in front of her. “You’ve come about as far as you can go. I wouldn’t go plowing through the scrub this time of evening.”

  “We had a bobcat prowling around last night,” Will said. “Found the paw prints this morning.”

  “And heard some fierce growling in the night, too.” Amber tilted her head.

  “That would scare me to death.” Cassie held out her hand and introduced herself. “I’m actually here to talk to you. Travis Elliott told me where to find you.”

  Amber didn’t say anything, but her expression said it all. “He was not supposed to.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I really am. But he’s my cousin, more or less.” She didn’t explain what she couldn’t. “And the thing is, he knew I had the one good reason to find you and that I won’t reveal your name or anything about you to anybody. I promise.”

  “Reason to find me?”

  “Is it possible to sit down? At the table?”

  Amber debated, then she nodded. Cassie looked at Will. “You too?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  At the picnic table Will and Amber took one side and Cassie sat on the other. The planks were covered by a plastic tablecloth, red-and-white checks that made her think of an Italian restaurant where she’d regularly indulged in all-you-can-eat spaghetti in the year before she met and married Mark. The cloth was anchored by salt and pepper shakers and a wooden bowl with two apples and a banana.

  “I’m going to get right to the point.” Cassie looked at her hands, which were twisting on the table, and dropped them to her lap. “My daughter found your missing zipper pouch. In a parking lot downtown.”

  Amber closed her eyes for a moment, as if visualizing it. “So that’s where it was. I don’t know how it happened, but I guess I dropped it when I got out of my car.”

  “Savannah’s having a hard time, and I guess she thought giving somebody else a hard time was okay. Because she and her friends took the money and threw a party at our house while I was away. She said she didn’t know how to find the owner, and since nobody was looking for it in the lot—”

  Amber’s voice had an edge sharp enough to slice through metal. “Oh, I looked. As soon as I’d searched the whole store where I thought I’d dropped it, I went out to my car, and when it wasn’t there, I looked over the whole lot. Half a dozen times. I got down on my hands and knees and searched under cars.”

  “You probably just missed them. Anyway, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. It’s hard to believe she did what she did, that any of these girls thought it was okay.” She knew better than to explain how her house had been trashed, because that in no way compared to what Amber had lost.

  “So that’s it. The money’s gone,” Amber said.

  “Travis also gave me the address and name of your landlord. I went to see Mr. Blevin this afternoon and told him about finding the purse. I paid him the two months’ rent you owed and promised that if it ever became necessary, I could pay more in the future. I asked him to let you move back in. But he—”

  “He said no. Of course he did. I could have told you he would. But thank you. At least now he won’t take me to court while I’m trying to pay him back.”

  She didn’t look grateful; she looked upset, but Cassie was impressed by her good manners. “He gave me a long lecture on how nobody can be trusted, and he’s charging three times as much security deposit in the future.”

  Amber got to her feet. “You went to a lot of trouble to find me and fix things. A lot of people would have just kept quiet. I appreciate it.”

  “Can you give me just a bit more time?”

  She looked unhappy but she sat again and waited.

  “I asked my real estate agent to find you an apartment you might be able to afford.”

  Amber waved her hand dismissively. “We won’t be able to move into an apartment again until at least the summer.” She started to list all the expenses involved, but Cassie stopped her.

  “I know. And I don’t have the kind of money you’ll need to restart your life. I wish I did. I do have one thing to offer, though, something I can do. And please don’t think this is charity. It’s me repaying a debt in the only way I know how.”

  “You don’t have to do another thing.”

  “Amber, neither of us should have to live with this. You need a real roof over your heads, and I need to help repair what Savannah did to you. I want you to come and live with us. For as long as you need.” Somehow she dredged up a smile. “I can’t offer bobcats, but there’s an outdoor kitchen for s’mores. I promise the house is large enough for all of us. You’ll have your own rooms, but you’ll be welcome everywhere.”

  Amber didn’t look stunned so much as skeptical. “I’m a stranger. How can you make an offer like that?”

  “Because Travis checked your background before he wrote that story. Everyone you work with likes and admires you, and so do your former neighbors. Will has a fan club at the high school among teachers. Everybody thinks you’ve been hammered by a fate you didn’t deserve.”

  “In my experience, fate’s not good at discerning what people deserve.”

  Cassie silently agreed. “So please let me intervene, for both our sakes? Quietly with no publicity. Say you’ll move into my house so we can all move on to better things.”

  Her gaze fell on Will, and she realized he was the key.
“Living closer will be especially good for Will. There’s no way he’s going to be able to participate in after-school activities out here, and you may even be out of the school district. He’d have to change schools if they found out.”

  “I could keep my job,” Will said, and Cassie knew she had an ally.

  Amber stood again, and this time Cassie stood, too. She noticed Will leaped to his feet, as well, a young man who’d been trained to be polite. “How will your daughter feel about having us in your house? We’ll be constant reminders of what she did.”

  Cassie thought that was probably the least of the problems Savannah would face. The biggest was that she would be moved to the small guest room at the end of the hall.

  “She’s not going to be happy about it,” she said carefully. “But at this point in her life she’s not happy, period. If she doesn’t understand this is right for everyone, she will someday.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Savannah Westmore?” Will asked.

  Cassie met his eyes. “You know her?”

  “I know who she is.”

  “Please don’t let that stop you.”

  Will smiled a little but he didn’t protest.

  She turned back to Amber. “You’ll think about it?” She really wasn’t sure what Amber would say, but the other woman gave a slight nod.

  Cassie was prepared. She handed her a slip of paper with her phone number and address. “The offer stands. Whenever you’re ready, now or later. Just call me.” She started toward the road. Behind her there was no conversation, but she knew there would be plenty after her car had pulled away.

  She drove slowly through the grounds and waited until she was on the road to consider everything she’d said. She’d done her best to convince the Blairs to move into her house, and everything she’d told them was heartfelt and honest. Still, not too deep down, just past the layers of guilt and remorse, she hoped Amber and Will could find a better solution.

  7

  SAVANNAH COULDN’T BELIEVE HOW boring World History was. She had refused to let Cassie register her for the Advanced Placement class because she wasn’t interested in doing more work than she had to. Instead she’d been placed in Honors History. She figured her education in New York had been so superior, she could get through that and high school in general without breaking a sweat.

  History had been one of her favorite subjects, but these days she couldn’t read three sentences before her mind wandered. And participating in class? Coastal Winds shared at least one thing with Pfeiffer Grant. Every class had the same percentage of dweebs, dorks and know-it-alls. Today when she’d been called on to give her opinion about some stupid Supreme Court ruling, she’d been shot down by the teacher’s personal ass-kisser. The teacher had laughed and told him to zip his lips—and how lame was that? But by then, Savannah had lost all interest in the subject.

  After the bell rang, she gathered her books and stalked down the corridor to her locker. Unfortunately Helia was waiting for her, about as welcome a sight as Loki in an Avengers movie. At least Helia couldn’t teleport or shape-shift.

  “You get in big trouble?” Helia was chewing a wad of gum as big as a fist, and it took Savannah a minute to translate.

  “Of course I got in big trouble! My stepmarauder came home a day early and I’d just started to clean. Which you and Minh left me to do alone.”

  Helia chewed faster and louder. “Stepmarauder. That’s a good one.”

  “Stepmonster. Stepbother.” She didn’t add her favorite nickname for Cassie: Stepmurderer. That one she kept to herself.

  Helia shrugged. “I planned to come. I didn’t know I’d be under house arrest.”

  Savannah was surprised. The explanation wasn’t exactly an apology, but it was a lot closer than she’d expected.

  She thought she had a paper due in some class or the other, but she wasn’t in the mood to think about it. She dumped the contents of her backpack inside the locker and turned. “Not one person who showed up Friday night said thanks when they saw me today, or great party, or anything that showed they even noticed I was there.”

  “Don’t be a whiner. It wasn’t that kind of party. People came and went, mostly for the beer. We weren’t the only game in town.”

  “Then what was the point? Like my life wasn’t bad enough? Now Cassie’s not going to let me out of her sight for the rest of my life.”

  “Yeah, well, welcome to that club.”

  Savannah slammed the locker door. “I have to meet her outside. She’s driving me both ways now.”

  “My foster father is probably waiting, too. With a car full of screaming brats.”

  They started toward the front door. As angry as Savannah was at Helia and Minh—who had avoided her all day—she had to admit it was nice to have somebody walking beside her, even if it was Helia.

  Outside, cars packed with juniors and seniors who drove themselves to school zoomed by, kids hanging out the windows and hooting. A group of the popular girls stood off to one side, gesturing in the direction of the parking lot. Ponytails swished and fancy phone cases glinted in the sunlight. At Pfeiffer Grant she’d been one of that group, always with the prettiest or smartest girls, always admired and envied by the hangers-on.

  She’d never examined her exalted status, or at least only rarely. She’d just accepted her place, and she’d given little thought to making sure nobody was excluded. She was smart, pretty, funny. Her parents were rich, and girls fought to go to her spacious condo in Battery Park City to hang out in her room and eat Cassie’s baklava.

  They’d fought for her attention, but only until she was tossed out of school, with a don’t-let-the-door-hit-you lecture from the upper school headmistress.

  “Yep, there’s the man with the van.” Helia, who didn’t seem to own a backpack, lifted half a dozen books from her side and slipped them under her arm. Savannah saw The Sound and the Fury on top.

  “You’re studying The Sound and the Fury in English? Faulkner’s pretty dense, right?”

  Helia looked like she’d been caught shooting heroin in the teacher’s lounge. “It’s on our reading list.”

  Savannah didn’t know if she had a reading list. “Is that what I have to look forward to in English?”

  “Gotta go.”

  Savannah watched Helia disappear into the front passenger seat of a rusting van with Comfy-Temps Heating and Cooling painted on the side. Kids were yelling in the back. She wondered how Helia read anything, much less Faulkner, in her foster home.

  Cassie appeared a moment later, carefully guiding her clunky blue sedan into a space in front of the school. Savannah would be incensed if the Plain Jane Corolla was the car she was destined to drive herself, but Cassie had paid someone to drive her father’s Mustang Shelby coupe, with the racing stripe across the roof, to Florida. She’d told Savannah she wanted her to have it once she was driving, that her father had loved the little Ford, and he would want her to enjoy it once she had her license and was ready for the challenge.

  Maybe the fancy Mustang wasn’t an Aston Martin or a Porsche, but Mark Westmore had learned to drive in a more basic Mustang himself. While he hadn’t used a car much in the city, he’d loved taking it on the occasional weekend when they’d sail over interstates, just the three of them, on the way to a bed-and-breakfast in Vermont or an inn in Bucks County.

  Back when they were a family.

  In the passenger seat she fastened the belt rather than listen to her stepmother’s lecture on car safety. Then she stared straight ahead, hoping to avoid any conversation at all.

  Two blocks later Cassie pulled over to the side of the road and parked, turning off the engine. She swiveled to face Savannah.

  “I don’t feel like talking,” Savannah said, heading her off.

  “Whether you do or not, talking is on the schedule.
”

  “You’ve already told me over and over what a loser I am.”

  Cassie’s expression didn’t soften. “You’re acting like one, but this conversation goes a lot deeper. I found the woman who that purse and money belonged to.”

  That was a subject Savannah hadn’t expected. “How?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I paid the debt to her landlord, which she would have done with the money you found. I tried to get him to let her move back in, but he was too angry. So now she and her son have no place to live.”

  “Why? There must be a hundred places to rent.”

  “There might be if she had a lot of money. But if you paid any attention at all, you noticed that the purse was filled with small bills, which she collected from tips. She’s not rich, and she can’t afford what’s out there.”

  Savannah tried not to imagine what that was like.

  Cassie went on. “In case you need a pointer, that should make you feel rotten. So now it’s time to do something. Her name is Amber Blair and her son is Will. He goes to Coastal Winds, too. I think he’s a junior. Do you know him?”

  “Like I know anybody. I’m the new girl, remember?”

  “Apparently not too new to invite dozens of kids to our house while I was away.”

  Savannah knew better than to respond. After a moment Cassie filled the silence. “Anyway, I’ve invited them to live with us.”

  “You did what?” Now Savannah turned, too, to look at Cassie. “You invited strangers into our house?”

  “You’ll be moving into the guest room in the back, because they need space and privacy. The guest room carpet has been cleaned, and the room is acceptable, although I had the mattress hauled away, vomit and all. I ordered another. There are stains on the walls, courtesy of your guests. I can’t afford to have it repainted, but if you want to do it yourself, I’ll buy the paint.”