Masquerade: a romantic comedy

by Janette Rallison

  Hadn’t that same thought flashed through her mind last night?

  It wasn’t a good sign that this sentence had become the theme of her nanny career.

  Slade showed up twenty minutes later, and he didn’t come by himself. Two men and a woman walked with him toward the pool. The men were in their forties, both in good shape. One had a receding hairline and wore what hair he had left tied behind his neck in a ponytail. The other man had jet-black hair, a mustache, and wore metallic sunglasses.

  The woman, Clarissa vaguely recognized as one of the actresses from Undercover Agents, although she couldn’t think of her name offhand. Long red hair swung around her shoulders, and large green eyes looked out from the midst of flawless skin. She was easily 5' 10" tall, and most of that was willowy legs. Her swimming suit looked like it was made of black velvet and showed off a Barbie-perfect figure.

  Next, Clarissa’s gaze moved to Slade, and she couldn’t keep it from lingering there as he approached. He wore navy blue trunks, dark sunglasses, and had a pool towel slung over one of his shoulders.

  Clarissa had never particularly appreciated how broad Slade’s shoulders were before, and now as he walked toward her, she tried not to stare at them. It probably wasn’t professional behavior for someone who was about to be fired.

  When Slade reached Clarissa, he dropped his towel on the chair next to her, then stepped out of his sandals. The people with him began settling into the row of chairs by Clarissa.

  Slade gestured at Clarissa. “This is Bella’s nanny, Mrs. Hancock.” He then held his hand out to point at each of the people with him. “This is Sherry, the hardworking, streetwise junior agent; and two narcotic thugs, Joe and Breck, who get killed in a bloody shoot-out at the end of the next show.”

  Joe, the one with the ponytail, reached over, shook Clarissa’s hand, and winked. “Only the good die young.”

  Sherry laughed and sat down. “Slade, that’s the last time I tell you the plot line to one of our episodes.”

  “You don’t have to tell anyone the plots,” Breck said, plopping down on the chair next to her. “They’re all the same. Just for variety, I’m going to ask AJ to let me kill off one of the agents in our crossfire.”

  “Don’t let it be me.” Sherry adjusted her pool chair so it leaned back. “Natalie would be putting on my uniform before they could even shoot the poignant scene where everyone comes to my funeral and cries their eyes out.”

  Slade scanned the kiddy pool. “Where’s Bella?”

  Clarissa pointed to the far corner of the pool where Elaina and Bella were bent over on their hands and knees, periodically jumping across the pool. “They’re being sharks,” Clarissa said.

  “Ah, yes, my daughter the shark.” Slade sat down in the chair between Clarissa and Sherry. He leaned back in a relaxed fashion. “How has Bella been today?”

  Here it was. The time to confess all, only Clarissa couldn’t exactly bring herself to do it with three other people sitting with them. And Slade wouldn’t want these other people to know what had gone on this morning anyway. Hadn’t Landon just emphasized what a private person Slade was when it came to his family life?

  Still Clarissa had to say something. She smiled weakly. “Bella wanted to go to the beach, but I thought it best if we tried the kiddy pool first. She got quite upset about that.”

  Slade looked back over at Bella. “Upset how?”

  “You know, yelling and crying,” and issuing threats like a three-foot dictator.

  Slade continued to look at Bella and at last shrugged. “She seems fine now.”

  Clarissa let out a slow breath. That was easier than she expected. Of course, Slade’s attitude might change after he talked to Bella. Bella might carry through on her plans to tell Slade what an awful nanny she was. And there was still the matter of the reporter. Clarissa hadn’t formulated a casual way to tell Slade about that.

  Slade’s golden-brown eyes turned to Clarissa. “I thought I’d watch the girls for a while and give you the afternoon off. That way you won’t be mad at me when I ask you to watch Bella all evening.”

  “Oh, you have something planned?”

  “The Agents have a dinner and dance tonight. AJ will be there, and the press won’t.”

  “The press . . .” Clarissa repeated.

  Joe leaned toward her. “Vultures,” he said. “And may I someday be famous enough to have them circling me.”

  She should have said something about Sylvia then. She should have said, “Yeah, the press is horrible. Why, a little while ago . . .” But she couldn’t do it. Slade had already yelled at her in front of Landon. She didn’t want to add three more actors to that list of witnesses. Pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to turn on the TV without spotting people who’d seen her chewed out.

  Breck slapped suntan lotion across his arms and shoulders. “Dinner should be another one of AJ’s big affairs. I swear, he doesn’t think he’s running a production. He thinks he’s running a cruise ship, and he’s the director.”

  Joe nodded. “He must have taken dancing lessons and wants to get his money’s worth.”

  Sherry slipped a pair of designer sunglasses over her eyes. “Some people enjoy dancing.”

  Breck elbowed Joe and smirked. “Yeah, and those people are called women.”

  Clarissa’s gaze fluttered over to Sherry. Was she the one who had invited Slade to the party? They would make such a striking couple together. All of Sherry’s long red tresses next to Slade’s thick, dark, I’d-love-to-run- my-fingers-through-it brown hair.

  Clarissa suddenly felt enormously dowdy in her terry cloth robe. It wasn’t fair. No one should have to sit next to a starlet at a swimming pool while wearing an old terry cloth robe. These men were probably comparing Sherry’s long tanned legs to Clarissa’s pale ones, and Sherry’s shiny, curled-just-right hair to Clarissa’s dull, limp, pulled-back-in-a-ponytail blonde hair. She hated to think what else they might be comparing.

  Clarissa had the sudden urge to name off her good qualities. Okay, so I’ve never appeared in People magazine, but I’m a caring mother, and I got straight A’s in college. I know how to bake cinnamon rolls, make life-like flowers out of crepe paper, and can sing Handel’s Messiah on key. I have lots of friends back home. Not famous friends, but still good people.

  It wouldn’t have mattered to them, she supposed. Somehow in the great scale of life, being able to bake cinnamon rolls never seemed to outweigh looking stunning in a black velvet swimsuit.

  Slade leaned over to Clarissa. “I’m serious about you taking the afternoon off. Have you given the girls lunch yet?”

  “No, I was just about to order something for them.”

  “I can do it,” Slade said. “Go have some fun, and I’ll bring the girls to your room at 4:30.”

  Clarissa glanced over at Bella and Elaina. They were leaping toward the chairs now, making tremendous splashes as they came. Any moment Bella would see her father, and then what would happen? Perhaps Clarissa should take Slade up on the offer and bolt before Bella had the chance to make even more waves.

  “Are you sure you’re up to watching two children?”

  Slade rolled his eyes. “I am a parent, Clarissa. Over the past four years I have managed to pick up a few child-rearing abilities.”

  Bella let out a squeal, followed by a loud “Daddy!” and then tramped up to the chairs and flung herself onto her father’s lap.

  “Hey, princess.” He took the towel off his chair and wrapped it around her until she looked like a mound of fluff with eyes. “Are you having fun?”

  “I’m a shark,” she said.

  “I see. And did you have a good morning with Clarissa and Elaina?”

  Clarissa wrapped her own towel around Elaina and held her breath, waiting for the tell-all. The ocean. The chair. The I’m-going-to-tell-my-daddy-to-send-you-away story. To what degree would Slade take his daughter’s side over that of the nanny?

  Bella’s gaze brushed across Clarissa without any rese
ntment. Then she said, “We played Go Fish. I won three times.”

  “Ah, you’re a card shark then. It all makes sense now.”

  Breck peered over his sunglasses at Slade. “What are you teaching your kid, Slade? You got her running a card racket?”

  Joe leaned over and tousled some of Bella’s wet curls. “Hey, if you’re really tough, we could use you during our shoot-out. We got some namby-pamby agents we got to teach a lesson to.”

  Bella slipped off her father’s lap, probably to get out of Joe’s reach, and let the towel fall from her shoulders. She took hold of her father’s hand. “Come play with me, Daddy.”

  “In a minute,” Slade said, and turned his attention to Sherry. “What’s the dress code for tonight?”

  Clarissa felt Elaina shiver and pulled the towel around her tighter. “Do you want to stay out here and have lunch with Bella and Slade, or do you want to come back to the hotel with Mommy and have lunch there?”

  Elaina hopped up and down eagerly. “I want to stay here.”

  Oh.

  Clarissa wasn’t sure whether to be happy or disappointed. On one hand, she couldn’t remember the last time she had more than five minutes to herself. On the other hand, her daughter— her daughter, who usually couldn’t be pried from Clarissa’s side, had just voluntarily chosen to spend time away from her. That sort of hurt.

  Then from the recesses of her mind, the child experts spoke again. They seemed to be nodding approvingly and murmuring things about a child’s quest for independence and a child’s ability to make her own choices.

  Clarissa rubbed her hand up and down Elaina’s back. “Okay, honey, I’ll tell Slade you want to play out here for a bit longer, but if you change your mind, he can always . . .” She broke off as she noticed Bella. The little girl had given up tugging on her father’s hand, and now, with hands on hips, let out a heavy sigh. She looked over at Clarissa and something flickered in her eyes. Without a word, she circled around the back of the chairs.

  Before Clarissa could even call out to her, Bella skipped over to the big pool and went directly over the edge. Her parting into the water only made a whispered splash.

  At first Clarissa could neither move nor breathe, then her body suddenly worked again, and she yelled, “Slade!”

  She leapt from her chair without waiting to see his response. Her sandals made it hard to run, but she didn’t have time to take them off. In seconds she reached the pool. She saw the form of Bella beneath the water’s surface and immediately plunged into the pool next to her.

  The water felt cool and heavy, too heavy. Her robe, now saturated, weighed her down, and every motion seemed to take aggravatingly long. She reached out for Bella, kept reaching. The little girl seemed to always be just beyond her grasp. Then a moment later she grabbed hold of Bella’s hand and pulled her into her arms.

  Clarissa turned and pushed through the surface, holding Bella’s head up into the air. She swam to the shallow water, checking the little girl’s face to make sure she was breathing.

  “Are you all right?” Clarissa asked.

  Bella nodded, her eyes wide with surprise.

  Clarissa pushed her way to the stairs, hugging Bella to her to keep herself from shaking. “You scared me to death. Didn’t I tell you not to go near the big pool—didn’t I?”

  “But you weren’t watching me anymore. Daddy was.”

  “That matters?”

  Elaina, Slade, Joe, Breck, and Sherry were all standing and staring at her from the side of the pool.

  Slade gazed at her without the worry, without the terror, Clarissa had expected to see. He only looked puzzled. “What in the world are you doing?”

  “Bella jumped in the pool. I went in to save her.”

  “Oh,” Slade said, and a smile played on his lips. “That’s very sweet of you. Very heroic.” He held out his hands and took Bella from her arms. “Of course, it would have been more meaningful if Bella didn’t already know how to swim.”

  Clarissa stood on the top stair, her robe heavy with water, which now streamed down around her ankles. Slowly she said, “Bella knows how to swim?”

  “Well, yeah. I’ve got a pool at the house, so she’s had lessons since she was a baby. She probably swims as well as I do.” Clarissa stepped out onto the pool deck. One of her sandals dangled halfway off her foot. She kicked her foot into it angrily. “You never told me she knew how to swim.”

  “I never told you she didn’t.”

  Clarissa glared at him but didn’t dare look at the other faces. It was one thing to feel like a fool; it was another thing to see the proof that everyone agreed with you. Instead, Clarissa pushed the clinging strands of hair away from her face, then peeled off her bathrobe and rung it out. Water pooled at her feet.

  “Who says good help is hard to find?” Sherry said cheerily.

  Slade took the robe from Clarissa’s hands. “If we drape this across one of the pool chairs it should dry out soon.”

  Clarissa had already had enough humiliation for the day. The thought of staying here for even one more moment didn’t appeal to her. She shook her head. “I’ll just hang my robe up in my bathroom.” She reached for the robe, gave it another twist, and watched as more water dripped onto the concrete. “Maybe I should take Elaina with me. She doesn’t know how to swim, and I wouldn’t want you to worry—”

  Slade held his hand up like he was taking a pledge. “I’ll keep both girls safely in the kiddy pool, we’ll have lunch, and then go up to the hotel room and play a few rounds of Shoot and Batter or something.” His eyes ran over Clarissa’s figure, and stopped at the water accumulating at her feet. “Really. You deserve the afternoon off.”

  Clarissa shot a last look at Elaina. “Fine.” She turned around and headed toward the hotel. Her wet skin felt cold against the air, and her sandals made a squishing sound with every step she took.

  Step. Squish. Step. Squish. She probably wouldn’t stop dripping until she reached the elevator. One leg of her suit began to twist unnaturally. She didn’t dare stop and fix it. She’d already created enough of a spectacle to amuse the movie stars.

  Step. Squish. Step. Squish.

  She hated the way Slade was so at ease in every situation, while she always floundered around looking incompetent. And she hated the smug humor she’d seen on Sherry’s face before she turned around. But most of all she hated the way Bella could send Clarissa into a pool one moment and then blink innocently up from her father’s arms—the image of an angel—the next.

  Had she done the whole thing on purpose?

  And from the recesses of her mind, Clarissa heard Freud’s voice laughing. “You’d better listen to me next time.”

  Clarissa changed into dry clothes, did some damage control to her hair and makeup, and then went out on her hotel room’s balcony to read a novel. It should have been easy to relax against the backdrop of the bright blue ocean spilling onto the pale sand. But it wasn’t. She reread the same paragraph over and over again while wondering how Slade was managing with the girls. Finally she put the book down. Pitiful, she scolded herself. It’s been so long since you had any time to yourself that you don’t know what to do any more.

  She looked out at the beach, sunny and inviting, and wished her balcony faced the pool instead. That way she’d be able to see whether or not Slade had already taken the girls inside.

  She was beyond pitiful; she had reached pathetic.

  I should go for a walk along the beach, she thought, and pictured herself strolling along the shore with the other sunbathers. Then she pictured herself in her old blue swimming suit, and the image didn’t seem as appealing. She didn’t want to go for a walk; she wanted to buy a new bathing suit.

  She grabbed her purse and key card and was out the door.

  Chapter 12

  Clarissa had expected the hotel gift shop to be small, but it was also a pro shop and ended up being bigger than some of the stores she’d been to in the mall. It carried everything from toothbru
shes to sports equipment. A rack of women’s swimming suits stood in the back of the store in between the golf shirts and beach towels.

  As Clarissa flipped through them, she chastised herself for not buying a new suit before she came. In California, she could have shopped around and found a bargain. Here she’d have to accept the price.

  She turned over the tag on a bright, floral suit and winced. Too much. It was a week’s worth of groceries. She couldn’t justify spending this much, and yet, even as she thought about returning the suit to the rack, she also thought of Sherry stretched out on the pool chair in her black velvet suit, looking sleek and elegant. Clarissa wanted to feel that way. The old blue suit seemed symbolic of all Clarissa’s problems, and she didn’t want to put it on again. Ever.

  She took the floral suit and also grabbed a hot pink, a yellow, and a black one from the rack. Then she took them to the dressing room.

  The whole time she disrobed, she mourned her lack of willpower and the amount of chocolate she’d consumed over her lifetime. Chocolate. It seemed to cancel out the time she’d put in on the treadmill. She ought to have done better. If she were perfect, it wouldn’t matter what she wore. She would always feel confident.

  Clarissa put on the yellow suit and turned sideways to the mirror. It was a good thing, really, that she and Elaina would be here for Halloween instead of back home. Who needed bags of fun-sized Snickers lying around the apartment to tempt you? As of this moment, she promised herself she would never overindulge in chocolate again—at least not when she had to face people while wearing only half a yard of tight spandex.

  These thoughts were reaffirmed upon seeing herself in the floral suit. It made her feel like she had put on bumpy wallpaper. The black suit wasn’t much better. She took one glance in the mirror and muttered, “It would be perfect to wear to an Esther Williams funeral.”

  The pink suit had promise, but felt a bit tight. Clarissa remembered seeing the next size up on the rack and now peeked over the top of the fitting room door in search of a wandering sales clerk. Of course, she saw no one.