House of Guardians

by Beatrice Sand

“I’m just teasing you! I’m staying home tonight.” I swing the door open, as he is still on the threshold. “Come on in.”

  “If only I had known you didn’t have a date. I have a few friends that would’ve liked to take you.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Julien. But I’m not in the mood.” Standing on tiptoe, I glance over his shoulder and see a long, dark vehicle in front of our house. “Let me check on Renee for you, because I don’t think that limo is free.” I give him a wink and walk away.

  “There’s still room for you, if you hurry…”

  “You’re joking, right?” I call over my shoulder and see how he is shamelessly staring after me. “Renee looks absolutely beautiful, by the way.”

  I stick my head inside the kitchen door. “Renee, your wrist corsage has arrived.”

  A high squeal escapes her lips and Mia screams along as if reliving her own prom. “Oh, honey. He’s here! Martin, are you sure the camera is on?”

  “Yes, darling,” he sighs.

  I chuckle at his weary undertone and we exchange a knowing glance. This is exactly the kind of drama I don’t get, and neither does he.

  “But the battery is low. Wait before you go inside.” My dad hurries off and Mia leaves as well—probably to talk up her daughter to Julien. I walk up to Renee.

  “You look gorgeous, sis. Every woman will look at you tonight with a mixture of admiration and envy. I hope you have the night of your dreams, you deserve it. And Julien looks yummy, by the way.” Whoa, that sounded pretty good and most importantly, I meant it.

  “Oh, Laurel, I do hope you find a guy like Julien someday. He is so romantic and gentle and yet so tough at the same time.” She looks sad for a moment, but her eyes shine. “Oh, I wish you could be just as happy tonight.”

  “You sound just like Jane Bennet,” I joke, putting on an Elizabeth Bennet voice: “If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness.”

  Renee chuckles, and I put my arm around her slender waist and give her a light hug. Then I push her away. “Now off you go on those heels, into the living room.” I blow her an air kiss. “Have fun.”

  “Laurel?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  I think for a second. “I can at least try.”

  “Julien is sleeping in the guesthouse tonight,” she whispers, “the small room, you know. That’s empty anyway.”

  “Renee, I don’t think…”

  “Ssh, I know what you think. I won’t stay with him all night. I’ll sleep in my own bed. But we want to have a drink and then he won’t be able to drive home. I really thought about this carefully.”

  “Then why are you telling me?”

  “I think it’s about time for a sister secret. Jane and Lizzy, remember?”

  “I don’t think Lizzy would approve of Jane hiding her Bingley like that.” I look at her doubtfully. “Don’t you have another secret? If Mia finds out… I feel enough like Cinderella as it is. Look at yourself and then look at my rags—if I’m not careful, I’ll be on my knees picking lentils out of the fire.”

  We both burst out laughing and I can’t remember us ever having been this spontaneous with each other. It’s nice.

  “She won’t find out, I promise,” Renee says, still laughing. “I’ll clean everything in the morning. Nobody ever needs to know that someone slept in that room.”

  “Who is behind the front desk tonight?”

  “Etienne. Listen, I was hoping maybe you could keep an eye out tonight?”

  “You’re kidding. Sitting in your room as a real chaperone? That is a bit too much Pride and Prejudice, Renee.”

  “No, dummy! I mean making sure the room isn’t going to be taken by someone else. After prom, I’m sure there’ll be more couples wanting a room, and I’m afraid Etienne will give it away.”

  “How romantic, that room is more of a broom closet.”

  “Will you do it? Tonight is my last chance to be alone with Julien. Please… It’s only until twelve, after that the front desk is unmanned.”

  “I know you think I’m a prude, and I do know that you’re more experienced than me, but, ehm, do you have protection?”

  “Eek, you sound like my mom.”

  I look at her fiercely. “I’m serious, Renee.”

  “I promise I won’t throw away the rest of my life because of one night of fun. We’ll be careful, all right?”

  I snort.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “That’s a maybe. I’ll see what I can do for you, okay? I’ll watch Etienne until twelve.” I hold up a finger. “No guarantees, though.”

  “Thank you, you’re the best.”

  “Yeah, right.” I’m wondering if I am not just being used by my suddenly spectacularly friendly stepsister.

  Renee holds up her satin purse and winks. “I’ve already made a key.”

  “Of course you have.”

  “I owe you one, sis. Big time.”

  “Yeah, you do. Just don’t forget. And don’t forget to refill the minibar!”

  Giggling, she runs out of the kitchen in her dazzling high heels like she was born with them on her feet.

  When Martin and Mia are blissfully sipping a glass of champagne, I slip into the kitchen and start squeezing lemons. I take a bottle of spring water from the fridge, a jar of sugar from the shelf, and finally a pitcher. Unfortunately, I can’t stick to my plan and watch a movie, but I hope to prevent an all-nighter at the front desk with a clever trick. And well, there are worse things than a chat with Etienne.

  “Hi, hon.”

  I look up. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Making lemonade?”

  “Yeah, for Etienne. I guess it’s pretty hot down there in the lounge without any air conditioning.”

  “That’s very nice of you.”

  He looks at me pensively, and I hope this is the end of our conversation, but that’s probably too much to ask. “Enjoying your night off with Mia?” I ask him.

  “Yes, I’m just worried about you.”

  “Don’t.”

  “You don’t regret not going?”

  “No, honestly. Don’t worry about me.”

  “What happened to that nice young man you went swimming with? I even shared a cup of coffee with him right here at the table. He didn’t ask you?”

  I sigh. “Yes and no. I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  “Okay, fair enough. Have you thought about a college?”

  “Not yet, I’m afraid. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d pass.”

  Martin sits down on a chair and watches me mixing the ingredients with an arched brow. “But you passed.”

  “And now I’m going to think about it. As I promised.”

  I hear him growl. “So if I understand correctly, you still don’t know what you want to do?”

  “I’m going to start thinking about my future first thing in the morning.”

  Martin sighs. “Renee was so happy tonight. I just want that for you too. For the both of you.”

  I smile. “I know. I’m not unhappy. I just found it difficult to see Renee and Mia tonight. I miss mom,” I say softly.

  “I know, honey. But Mia would have loved to help you with a dress and everything. She is really disappointed.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it that she left me alone. There will be other times,” I say without really meaning it. “She can help me with my wedding dress.” I give him a wink.

  “As if any man would get so lucky as to propose to you.” Martin shakes his head and picks up the bottle of water from the table. He unscrews the cap and slides the bottle back on the kitchen island. “You do know that you have to dissolve the sugar in boiling water first and then t
he mixture has to be cooled?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have time for that. That’s what ice cubes are for.”

  He looks at me like I’m a dishwasher trying to be a head chef. I grab two large glasses from the cupboard and give Martin a kiss. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  With the lemonade, glasses, and my hidden agenda I leave for the guesthouse.

  18

  laurel

  Big band music is playing in the lobby. Etienne is exactly where he is supposed to be—behind the front desk. He peers at the screen on the tall counter. I often sympathize with the hotel receptionists who are not allowed to sit down, even when it’s quiet. Mia insists on it. Employees can sit down in the back office, but not out front where people enter the hotel. She thinks it makes for a bad image. Mia behaves like she’s the executive of some international luxury five-star hotel instead of a rural guesthouse.

  “Hi, Etienne. What are you up to?”

  Etienne looks up from his screen. “Hey, cutie pie! Preparing tomorrow’s bills.” He looks me over from top to bottom, and his gaze stops at my feet. “I just got a call from a bunch of hippies from the sixties,” he says in a deadly serious tone.

  I already start laughing. “What did they want?”

  “They asked for their bare feet back.”

  There are two people in this world that can stop my depression in a split second. Etienne is one of them. “It’s too hot to wear shoes.” I place the pitcher and the glasses on the counter. “I brought you some lemonade, you’re probably dehydrated.”

  “Nice. From your dad?”

  “Nope. Made it myself.”

  For a moment or two he looks worried. Then he narrows his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be swaying in the arms of some hot date? It’s prom night, right?”

  “Not in the mood.”

  “You’re not? We are talking about men in black tie here, how can you not be in the mood for that?”

  I shake my head to dispel the image of Sam in black tie. “Are you busy?”

  “Not really. All the guests are out. It’s finally time for some overdue administration duties.”

  “Fully booked?”

  “There is still room for a few teenagers with something more in mind than just dancing. But off course Mia has strictly forbidden handing out keys to young couples. You know what she’s like,” he chuckles. “No sexual activity under her roof. I always wonder what she thinks newlyweds do when they spend their wedding night here.”

  “Usually we put a complimentary game of Scrabble in the room,” I joke. “By the way, did you eat yet?”

  “I’ll grab a plate from the kitchen later.”

  “Why don’t you go now? It’s late. If you wait any longer, you are going to have to grab it from the trash can. I’ll watch the front desk for you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, great.”

  I push him out from behind the counter. “What are you waiting for? Here, take your drink with you.”

  “Can you log me out?”

  “Will do, enjoy your dinner.” Etienne picks up a newspaper from the rack and then disappears into the canteen of the restaurant. “Take your time,” I call after him.

  I log Etienne out and log myself in under my own initials. Once I’m inside the booking system, I search for room eleven on the ground floor. Then I click on the out-of-order button and the box turns red. I confirm and close the screen. No one is going to book this room tonight.

  I try to visualize room eleven: a depressing room with barely enough room for the double bed. I can hardly picture two people having the time of their life in that room. How can I cozy things up in there a little? Make it more comfortable? I think about the newlyweds and then I know exactly what to do.

  I grab the wireless phone and run into the kitchen. I ask for fresh strawberries. Etienne is sitting outside, eating a bowl of spaghetti and I chuckle. “Can I take a champagne bucket as well?”

  “Knock yourself out,” the sous chef says. He tilts his head to one side. “Wild plans?”

  “Someone else’s,” I say ruefully.

  Back at the reception, I get the master key out of the cash register and walk up to room eleven, where I prepare everything for a romantic evening. Even though we are suddenly the kind of sisters that share secrets with each other, I have no idea whether this will be the first time for Renee, but either way, it should be perfect. That’s how I would want it for myself too.

  Involuntarily, my thoughts return to Sam, and just the sweltering thoughts of his strong hands gliding over my skin makes me shiver in spite of the humid weather.

  “Dream on, Laurel,” I murmur and bend over to inspect the contents of the minibar. I take out a bottle of sparkling wine, slide it in with the shaved ice in the bucket and place it on a small table. Finally, I place two champagne glasses next to it and toss the strawberries into a bowl. Those will be warm later—and the ice will probably have melted—but it’s the thought that counts. Still it doesn’t feel finished and biting my lip pensively, I look around.

  I close the curtains, turn down the sheets on the bed, rearrange the pillows, and switch on the lamp on the nightstand. “Prude? I don’t think so,” I mutter.

  Completely satisfied, I walk back to the front office, but halfway there, a doubt sets in. What if Renee just wants to have a drink, make out a little, and then really wants to go to her own room. She might give Julien the wrong impression with the untucked sheets and closed curtains.

  I run back to the room, and almost as an experienced room attendant, I tuck the sheets back in and pull the curtains wide open. Panting, I arrive back at the front desk. Etienne has not returned yet.

  Moments later, the nagging doubts start again. Maybe Renee has a tough attitude like so many other girls, but is it all pretense to live up to a reputation—to be popular? If Julien sets his mind to it, it wouldn’t be an easy job to hold back such a huge guy.

  I cover my mouth with both hands. What if Renee gets raped, it’ll be all my fault. Strawberries? Really? They are still teenagers who have just finished high school and I have decorated the room as if they are going to spend their wedding night together. Renee may have promised that they’ll be careful, but when they drink and have no protection, Renee can kiss college goodbye and I will become an aunt way too early. Or what if she changes her mind tonight?

  Nervously, I look at the clock and then run back down the hall and storm into room eleven. Luckily Renee has picked a room on the ground floor. I turn off the bedside lamp and put the bottle of wine back in the fridge. I ditch the ice in the bathtub. I close the door and quickly walk back to the front desk with a bowl of strawberries and an ice bucket.

  Etienne stares at me. “What are you panting for?”

  “Oh, I thought I’d get some rooms ready for the night. You know, turning down the beds, closing the curtains.”

  “Whoa, I didn’t know we offered free turndown service?”

  “We should. It’s trending, according to the guests.” I shamelessly place the master key back in the register and the phone back into its holder. I place the bucket on the counter and hold out the bowl of red fruit. “Strawberry?” I ask in my sweetest voice.

  Etienne takes out the biggest strawberry. “Have you been begging in the kitchen again?”

  “It has its advantages to be the owner’s daughter.”

  He looks at me with an anguished sigh. “This freaking hot weather, and here you come along with the world’s sexiest fruit. I wish we could get a cloudburst, so we can all get back to our normal routine.” He looks down at me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, you’re still underage.”

  “Eighteen, next week.” I take a strawberry between my lips and wiggle my brows. “Practically an adult.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, these balmy temperatures must bother you too,
right? I would have gone to the dance if I were you.”

  “How was dinner?” I ask with my mouth still full.

  “Just as sticky as the weather. The staff doesn’t exactly eat the same quality of food as the guests.”

  “Oh.”

  “I believe we are some sort of second-class citizens to Mia.” He puts his hand on mine. “No offense.”

  I shake my head. “None taken. No blood relation.” I glance at the clock on the screen. The party must be in full swing by now. About time to go home, before I start running into amorous couples looking for a hotel room—like Renee and Julien. I don’t want to use the word jealousy, I’d rather call it envy because that sounds less pathetic. “Well, I guess I’m heading home.”

  “What’s at home?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Gone with the Wind or Casablanca, I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

  Etienne is bouncing with laughter. “Whoa, let’s get crazy. Don’t forget to write down your time.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I bend down and reach for the file. I need to remember to unblock room eleven tomorrow.

  “A-maz-ing.”

  I look up. “What is?”

  “How is it possible to look like that?”

  “Look like what?” Absentmindedly, I write down the minutes I have just spent at the front office.

  “Like that, near the entrance. In the tuxedo,” he says in a whisper.

  I look up from the file and completely forget to breathe. With his usual nonchalance, he is standing there with his hands in his pockets, leaning against a wall and observing us—me—in stony silence.

  “Do you have a room reservation?” Etienne asks.

  “No.”

  That small hoarsely pronounced denial almost brings me to my knees and I am hating myself for it.

  “Are you looking for a room? We have a few available.” Etienne gives me a shove, so he can access the computer himself.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Too bad,” Etienne says quietly.

  I close the file and look at Sam. My hands won’t stop shaking. “I’m afraid you’re at the wrong party.”

  “I am exactly where I want to be,” he says in a flat toneless voice.