Beach Lane Collection

by Melissa de la Cruz

  “Anyway, tell me more about this new job of yours,” Jacqui said, changing the subject since Eliza looked so uncomfortable. “Are you really going to get to meet all those stars?”

  Eliza happily obliged, and the two forgot all about Palm Beach as they gossiped and chatted all the way to the East Hampton airport. The airport was a remote field off the dirt roads, and when they arrived, they found Mara in the middle of a crowd, kissing several well-heeled people good-bye. Eliza recognized a few of the socialites gathered around her and was impressed. But then, after Mara had merited not one but three glowing profiles in the Hamptons media last summer, Eliza hadn’t expected anything less from her friend. Whether she’d planned on it or not, Mara was Somebody in the Hamptons.

  Eliza leaned on the horn. “Over here!” She threw open the car door and climbed out, and Jacqui followed suit. They were both excited to see Mara—the three of them hadn’t been together since last August, and they were eager to pick up where they’d left off.

  Mara’s eyes lit up and she quickly rushed over to Eliza and Jacqui. “Hello! Hello!” she enthused, embracing Eliza warmly. “I’ve missed you guys!” she said, giving Jacqui a similar bear hug. “You both look amazing!”

  The cooing and the fawning began anew, as Eliza and Jacqui marveled over Mara’s highlights, and Mara praised them on their tans and cute outfits.

  “God, I can’t believe I’m back. It’s like I never left!” Mara shook her head and hiccuped.

  “Mara, are you tipsy?” Eliza asked. Last summer, Mara had been such a goody-goody they’d practically had to drag her out to parties.

  “A little,” Mara giggled. “I had a little—hiccup—Cristal on the plane.”

  Jacqui raised an eyebrow in admiration. Private plane, five-hundred-dollar champagne—this girl knew how to roll.

  The three of them grinned at each other, remembering how much fun last summer had been, and wondering what kind of mischief and adventure lay ahead for them this time. Everything was lush and green after the rainstorm, and the air smelled like salt and earth, mixed with a wonderful woodsy scent. All three girls felt lucky to be alive, in the Hamptons, and finally back together.

  Mara stuffed her bag in the trunk, then opened the back door. “Er . . .” she said, not quite sure where to sit. The backseat of Eliza’s car was akin to a homeless person’s grocery cart. It was filled to the brim with empty water bottles, torn shopping bags, shoe boxes, CDs, Advantage bar wrappers, and carb-free tortilla chip bags. It was odd how someone as perfect-looking as Eliza, who was such a neat freak about her clothes, hair, and person, had turned her car into what was essentially a dump truck. It was one of the things that Mara liked so much about her—you could never pin Eliza down to a stereotype.

  “Eek. Sorry about the mess,” Eliza apologized sheepishly.

  Mara grinned and pushed aside Eliza’s dry cleaning so she could sit down.

  “Anybody hungry?” Mara asked. “They had these, like, imported Majorcan almonds on board—they had so many, I took a couple of bags. Here, have some. They’re yummy.”

  Eliza started the car and Mara handed out her pilfered snacks.

  “So spill! How was Palm Beach? You guys never told me what happened!” Mara demanded. She was still giddy and high from the plane ride. Garrett had been a total ham the entire trip, and at one point, he’d turned the plane into a flying disco and had whirled Mara around until she was dizzy. Her good mood was so contagious that Jacqui momentarily forgot that Palm Beach was dangerous territory.

  “It was fun!” Jacqui said. “We got to borrow these couture ball gowns for the twins’ debut, I wore a Lacroix with a hand-beaded corset that Poppy didn’t want, and Eliza got this amazing Chanel dress that Karl had made for Sugar.”

  Mara oohed and aahed at Jacqui’s description of the house and the New Year’s Eve party, and Eliza knew this was the moment she’d have to tell her best friend what exactly had happened with her best friend’s ex-boyfriend. “Mar, I have something really important to tell you about Palm Beach. . . .”

  Mara looked at Eliza expectantly. If she felt a twinge of foreboding, she didn’t reveal it. Her face was wide open and innocent.

  Jacqui held her breath. She’d put Eliza and Ryan’s hookup out of her mind for a second, but looking back and forth between her two friends, she knew that what was about to happen would be totally unforgettable.

  the girls meet the perrys’ latest french import

  “HOLD UP!” MARA SAID, INTERRUPTING ELIZA. AN OLD Madonna song came on the radio, and Mara leaned through the front seats to turn it up.

  “ ‘Papa don’t preach!’ ” they all sang. “ ‘I’m in trouble deep!’ ”

  Mara thought she couldn’t be happier. It was great to be back with Eliza and Jacqui in the Hamptons again. She’d really missed them. There was no one as fun as Eliza or as mischievous as Jacqui back home.

  The song ended, but before Eliza could speak, Mara suddenly blurted, “God, I just can’t wait to see Ryan!”

  “Really?” Jacqui asked. “Even after you broke up with him?”

  “I know, I know.” Mara sighed. Her champagne buzz was still strong. “You guys, I really think I made a mistake. I mean, he said he still loved me, you know, even after I said we couldn’t go on, and I just hope . . . I don’t know. . . . Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?” Mara asked hopefully.

  Eliza cleared her throat. If she was going to tell, she would have to do it now, before this got even worse. It was obvious Mara was still in love with Ryan, and the knowledge that he had hooked up with one of her friends was bound to be crushing. Best to get it over with quickly. Mara would be upset, but she would understand and hopefully forgive Eliza.

  “Mar, listen, this is important. Please don’t be mad at me, okay? Because it meant nothing, I swear. This winter in Palm Beach I—”

  “That’s the thing,” Mara said, interrupting again, obviously oblivious to the rising notes of anxiety in Eliza’s voice. “I wish I’d gone to Palm Beach. God, I don’t know why I stayed away. I just . . . I really regret it. I should have listened to you, Jac.”

  Jacqui stayed silent.

  “Anyway, what did you want to tell me, ’Liza? Why shouldn’t I be mad?” Mara asked, starting to braid Eliza’s hair, which was hanging over the back of her seat. “What happened in Palm Beach?”

  Eliza sucked her teeth. “Over winter break I . . . I . . .” Eliza felt her throat dry up. She exhaled. “I decided not to work for the Perrys this summer. I’m not going to be an au pair.”

  “What?!” Mara and Jacqui both said, shocked for very different reasons.

  Eliza gnawed on her bottom lip. She’d meant to tell Mara—really she had. She’d been going to confess everything and get it over with. Mara was different from Lindsay and Taylor, those two-faced former best friends who’d turned on Eliza last year. Eliza always felt like she could tell Mara anything. Okay, so maybe they hadn’t kept in touch all that much over the school year, but that was irrelevant, Eliza almost felt like the year apart hadn’t even happened.

  Eliza shrugged her shoulders helplessly at Jacqui. She knew Jacqui would think she was a coward and a liar. She could live with that, but she couldn’t live with Mara’s disappointment. She was just too scared to hurt her friend. Besides, she reasoned, maybe keeping her mouth shut was the best option. That way, Mara and Ryan could get back together without having any bad feelings between them. If Eliza ignored the problem, then it would surely just go away, right?

  “What are you doing, then?” Mara asked, interrupting Eliza’s internal debate.

  “I’m working at Seventh Circle, this new nightclub,” Eliza said proudly. “It’s really cool—I’ll be learning all about public relations and stuff. I don’t really need the money from the Perrys this summer. My dad’s doing better, and we might even move back to the city next year.”

  Mara slumped in the backseat. “Jac, you knew about this?”

  Jacqui nodded.

  “And you d
idn’t tell me?” Mara whined.

  “I’m sorry—I thought Eliza e-mailed you.” Jacqui shot Eliza another daggerlike look. Then again, if Mara was this upset about not knowing about Eliza’s summer plans, Jacqui was kind of glad she hadn’t told her about Palm Beach.

  “That’s great and all,” Mara said. “I mean, I’m really happy for you ’Lize. But what are we going to do without you? Who’s going to scare William into submission? Are we ever going to see you?”

  “What are you talking about? We’ll see each other all the time,” Eliza promised.

  Eliza turned into the Perry driveway, where several expensive cars were parked. The newest addition to the fleet was a shiny new Toyota Prius, a gas/electric hybrid car that was the latest Hamptons automobile obsession. Priuses were politically correct, environmentally friendly, and incredibly hard to find—there was a six-month waiting list, and cars were selling for fifty percent over sticker price. Next to the Prius was Ryan Perry’s Aston Martin. But since Ryan was a touchy subject, nobody said anything.

  Laurie, Anna Perry’s personal assistant, a frowsy-haired forty-year-old woman who wore a cell phone around her neck on a leash and lived vicariously through her employers, greeted them at the front door.

  “Girls! Welcome back! Eliza, what are you doing here? Anna and the kids arrive tomorrow morning from the city. They were supposed to come in today, but Kevin needed the heli for some emergency meeting in Connecticut, and Anna didn’t want to sit in traffic. Ryan and the twins are around somewhere. Jacqui, Mara, you have the night off after getting the kids’ rooms ready.”

  They all followed Laurie inside and found the Perry house the same as ever, with immense floral arrangements in every corner, the striped zebrawood floors polished to a high sheen, every room perfectly appointed and camera-ready for an Architectural Digest shoot. Laurie told them that the Perrys paid a skeleton staff to keep the house looking this way even in the dead of winter. It was important that the house be prepared for their arrival at any moment, even if months passed between visits during the off-season.

  “What’s that noise?” Mara asked. “Is that a cement mixer?” Her father was in construction, and she recognized the sound.

  Laurie grimaced and put her hands to her ears. “It’s the Reynolds Castle. They’re not supposed to have construction after five. I’ve already told Anna we should report it to city hall.”

  The three girls scurried to the picture window and spied a humongous structure being built over a traditional Victorian house. The sprawling wood skeleton, complete with turrets, towers, and what looked like a moat, seemed to span the entire length of the property, all the way down to the beachfront. A huge crane was lifting up several gold-plated Grecian columns. They stared, fascinated, as a forty-foot-wide stained glass cathedral window was positioned on the top floor.

  “It’s a shame what they’re doing to the old Rockefeller place,” Laurie sniffed, as insulted as a true East Hampton blueblood. “It’s a monstrosity!”

  “Here, I’ll help you guys with your things,” Eliza said, grabbing Jacqui’s makeup bag and Mara’s magazines.

  The girls walked through the kitchen to the back door that led out to the terrace and garden. The grounds were pristine, the croquet set laid out for a game, and in the distance, the tennis and basketball courts shone with new paint.

  “Oh my God. Who is that?” Eliza asked in a stage whisper, when they reached the pool patio.

  Lounging on a raft in the middle of the infinity pool was the most beautiful boy they had ever seen. His entire lean, bronzed body was caramel-colored, from his honey-blond hair to his nut-brown tan. A cigarette dangled from his lower lip. He was wearing aviator sunglasses and holding a frosted cocktail glass with an umbrella in it.

  “Bonjour,” the beautiful boy drawled, trailing a finger on the water.

  Jacqui’s chest heaved. Had she said, “No more boys”? Did it count if he was the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen?

  He raised his sunglasses to appraise them, a playful smile on his lips.

  “Hi,” Mara said weakly.

  “Bonjour yourself,” Eliza shot back.

  “Boa tarde.” Jacqui smiled.

  “Je m’appelle Philippe Dufourg. You must be my coworkers, two of you at least,” he said, in a sexy French accent.

  “Coworker?” Mara asked. “You’re not . . .”

  He grinned, puffing on his cigarette and flicking his ashes into the chlorine-blue waters. “Mais oui. I am the new au pair.”

  aren’t rules made to be broken?

  LAURIE FILLED THEM IN AS SHE LED THEM TO THE SERVANTS’ cottage—Philippe was the French nephew of the kids’ regular nanny, who took every summer off to go home to Cornwall. He went to school in London—hence the (almost) perfect English—and had arrived just that morning. Philippe was an aspiring tennis pro and hoped to bolster his reputation by winning the Rolex Invitational, which took place in East Hampton each July. Besides babysitting the children, he was going to give them private tennis lessons.

  “And as you can see, he’s made himself quite at home,” Laurie said, with a hint of disapproval. “Well, here you are,” she said, throwing open the door to the tidy cottage.

  Everything was exactly as they remembered it. Even the third step on the rickety stairs still squeaked. Their room was as plain and bare as a prison cell, but they hadn’t expected anything more. There were a bunk bed and a small single bed, each with one flat pillow and scratchy wool blankets. Against the opposite wall were two bureaus, a ratty armchair, and a nightstand with a lamp that didn’t work that well ever since Eliza had tripped on its wire one night last July. There was one new addition, though: a shiny white intercom/phone, which Laurie explained Anna had had installed so they could get in touch with the au pairs with the push of a button.

  Mara and Jacqui began unpacking, chattering about this exciting new development (the boy, not the phone) as they decided on drawers and beds. “Do you want the top bunk?” Mara asked Jacqui.

  “Sure. Thanks. Where do you think they put the boy?” Jacqui nodded, pulling aside the curtain on the one small attic window.

  Mara shrugged. She hadn’t given Philippe a second thought—she was still fixated on the Aston Martin, wondering if Ryan was on the grounds somewhere. Maybe he was in his room, or in the kitchen. Maybe she should do a little scouting. . . .

  Eliza sat on the single bed, feeling a little out of place. She felt nostalgic for last summer, remembering all the wild times they’d shared together in this small space—sneaking smokes out the window and bottles of Grey Goose from the Perrys’ liquor cabinet. She and Jeremy had first made out on the very bed she was sitting on. But the feeling ended when she spotted a row of dust bunnies underneath the nightstand and remembered her air-conditioned bedroom back at her family’s summer rental.

  “Hey—that’s a nice necklace. Ryan has one just like it, doesn’t he?” Mara asked, looking up from unpacking and noticing the leather string Eliza was holding between her fingers, lost in thought.

  “Oh!” Eliza’s hands flew from her neck. She looked around nervously. “Yeah. It’s nothing, just this old thing I picked up.”

  “Did you guys hang out in Florida?” Mara asked wistfully. “You and Ryan? How was he?”

  Eliza colored. “Excuse me?”

  “I dunno, what did he look like? Was he with anyone?” Mara asked.

  “Same as always,” Eliza shrugged. “He wasn’t around much. Anyway, what about that guy by the pool, huh? How lucky are you guys? What a hottie!” she said, to change the subject. She motioned to the two of them to come closer. “I heard French guys have the biggest . . .”

  Jacqui and Mara giggled.

  Just then, Philippe walked in, smelling of smoke and coconut suntan oil. Jacqui thought nothing smelled sexier. “Bon!” he said, rubbing his palms together. “Ça devrait être amusant, trois filles et moi!”

  “No way, you’re not staying here, are you?” Mara asked, realizing he was s
aying something about his room. Anna didn’t seriously think to put two girls and one very hot guy in the same room, did she? But then, Anna Perry wasn’t really one for propriety. Mara was aghast.

  Jacqui shrugged. What was the big deal? Obviously Mara had never backpacked through Europe. She was intrigued. Philippe was staying in the same room with them. How very . . . convenient.

  “Oui.” Philippe nodded. He rummaged in the top bureau drawer for a shirt and pants and began to peel off his trunks.

  “Hold it! What do you think you’re doing?” Mara demanded. She knew she was being a killjoy, but seriously, this was out of line. She didn’t care if he was hot and French—she didn’t want to feel awkward around him all summer. He would have to learn how to respect her privacy, even if he had no need for his own.

  Eliza and Jacqui looked a little disappointed. That little slice of Philippe’s perfect backside was tantalizing. They had been looking forward to the show.

  Philippe shrugged. “Nakedness is not allowed? But I am in my room?”

  Eliza and Jacqui watched, amused, as Mara marched Philippe to the hallway, holding his arms firmly to his sides. Now this was the uptight Mara they remembered. “In America, we change in private!” Mara insisted.

  Mara walked back into the room, wiping her palms in consternation. “Can you believe that guy? Anyway, Jac, I guess he gets that drawer next to the bed. Huh. Well, do you want to share that closet then? And I guess we should see what Laurie needs us to do.”

  “Yeah—I guess I should go . . .” Eliza said awkwardly, standing up and collecting her purse. It was weird to be back in the old room and not be able to stay. “Hey, what are you guys doing tomorrow night? Do you want to come over to my house and hang out? I don’t start work till Saturday.”

  “Maybe,” Jacqui said, realizing for the second time in only a few minutes that her plan to ignore all distractions and be a stellar babysitter was not going to be as easy as she’d hoped. “If we can put the kids to bed early.”