Beach Lane Collection

by Melissa de la Cruz

  “You are?”

  “Yeah, I just told them I’d be back.” He finished the last of the water and put down the empty plastic bottle.

  Eliza was still processing all this new information. “I thought you didn’t like me anymore,” she said.

  “Eliza, what are you talking about? I’m crazy about you,” he said. “I’ve been crazy about you since the first time I saw you at the Perrys’ pool.”

  “What about Carolyn? Or Lindsay? Why were you with them?”

  “I met them through work. Carolyn is cool. And she was friends with your friends. I thought . . . I don’t know, I thought that would matter to you, that I knew people you did. Lindsay was nothing. I was only with her because I thought I could make you jealous, since you were with Ryan.”

  “Ryan and I aren’t . . . aren’t anything special. We’re just friends.”

  “Really?” he asked hopefully.

  “Really,” she said firmly.

  “So . . . you’re not with him?”

  “No.” But Eliza had to come clean. “I mean, not anymore. He’s great, but he’s . . . he’s just not you.”

  Jeremy smiled his crooked smile. Eliza smiled into his eyes, and just like that, they kissed. Jeremy stroked her hair, and Eliza put a hand up to his cheek, warming her hands on his skin while the hurricane swirled around them and the house shook.

  “I love you,” he said. “You’re the only girl for me.”

  Eliza felt so much happiness that she wasn’t sure it could fit inside her skin. And when he kissed her again, she felt as light as air, like a bubble that had popped out of a bottle of champagne, floating dizzily toward the ceiling.

  mara steals from the rich to give to the, uh, rich

  THE LIGHTS WENT OUT AT FIVE, AND THERE WERE NO MORE towels to stop the water from entering through the cracks in the doorway. The kids were getting antsy. Mara had spent the afternoon with them, playing Go Fish and Old Maid. William was actually sitting still for once. Zoë had a knack for Go Fish, and even Cody was being quiet. Madison had even found a bag of chips and was eating them along with everyone else.

  “Old Maid!” Madison crowed, when Mara took the wrong card.

  “Well, let’s just hope it’s not prophetic,” Mara joked.

  The house shook with a rumble that came from the driveway, and they all ran to the window to see an immense Home Depot truck pull up to the front of the Reynolds estate.

  Mara couldn’t believe it. Ryan had called to tell Laurie that there was nothing at the Home Depot. Looking at the truck, she could only guess what had happened.

  “C’mon, kids!’ she said, getting all of them together. “We’re going to do a raid!”

  After making sure all the kids were dressed warmly in sweaters and nylon slickers, she led them outside. The rain was coming down hard, and it was going to get really bad really soon. She ushered them through the hedges that separated the property and into a secret passageway that Garrett had showed her, which led to the basement of the Reynolds Castle.

  The kids were beside themselves with delight. Mara led them up through the basement. She cracked open the door to the kitchen. The coast was clear.

  “C’mon,” she said, and led the kids to one of the upstairs bathrooms where the linen closet held so many towels it was like a miniature Bed, Bath & Beyond. Mara began loading up on towels, passing them out to the kids to hold.

  “What are you doing?” Garrett asked lightly, walking into the bathroom, holding a beer. He looked pasty in his white oxford shirt.

  Mara looked at him. She remembered his cutting remarks, the way he’d immediately believed she had taken the earrings and dumped her without even bothering to listen to her side.

  “You guys have too much of this stuff. You don’t need all of it, so we’re taking some,” Mara replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “You can’t do that,” he said, still in a light, mocking tone.

  “Okay, then I’ll ask nicely. Can we have some? Please?”

  “No,” he replied sharply. “Now please leave and take the brats with you, or I’ll have to call security.”

  “Sorry, Garrett, but that’s not going to work,” Mara said. “William?”

  “Uh-huh?” The little boy asked.

  “You know that move they taught you in kickboxing class?” she asked, bending down to his level. “That would come in handy right about now, don’t you think?”

  Once William realized what Mara was asking him to do, an evil grin spread across his face.

  “Hiii-ya!!” he said, running straight for Garrett and kicking him—hard—in the stomach, making the older boy double over. “Go, go, go!” William yelled.

  Before leaving, Mara spied another something sparkly that had been missing. Her Blahnik sandals. She picked them up from behind the bathroom door triumphantly. Mitzi had already written them off, so they were hers to keep.

  “ ’Bye, Garrett!” Mara laughed.

  As they ran out the door, supplies in hand, an older couple who lived up the hill were getting out of their car. They noticed the supplies Mara and the kids were carrying.

  “Where did you get that? They’re all out of supplies at Home Depot!”

  “Here, have some—there’s much more!” Mara said gaily, passing over a couple of paper bags filled with batteries and bottled water.

  They ran back into the Perry house, flushed with success and triumphant over their loot.

  “We found water!” Mara said, marching victoriously into the kitchen and depositing two one-gallon bottles on the table. “Oh.” Her face fell.

  On the kitchen counter was a huge stack of water bottles, towels, batteries, and firewood. There were candles and heating oil and hurricane lamps and several loaves of bread, canned tuna and baked beans, and towels and rope and flashlights, all in cheerful white plastic bags with the Target logo. The kids began to cheer, tearing into the Cheetos and Pringles.

  Ryan stood in the middle of the kitchen, putting away the dried pasta. “Eliza and I found a Target that was open,” he explained, without looking at her.

  “Oh . . . oh, great.” She was about to back out the door, when he called her.

  “Wait, I want to—we need to talk,” Ryan said. He turned around, and for the first time, Mara could see just how upset he was.

  knight in yellow rain slicker

  “MERDA!” JACQUI CURSED AS SHE TURNED THE IGNITION and the engine of the little gas-electric hybrid sputtered to life, then went dead. Everyone in the Perry household had taken the Prius’s fifty miles per gallon for granted, and Jacqui couldn’t remember anyone filling up the tank all summer. Now it was empty, and she was screwed. She was stuck out on Route 27, and the storm was only getting worse.

  She tried the Perry house, but the line just kept ringing, which meant the phone lines were probably down. She tried Eliza’s cell, but it went straight to voice mail. Even though she was still angry with Philippe, she didn’t know who else to call. She hated having to depend on him, especially since he’d never even explained about the other evening at the motel and acted like nothing had ever happened when he bumped into her at the house.

  She dialed his cell phone.

  “Hello? Hello, Philippe? Listen, it’s Jacqui, I really need you right now.”

  “Hello? Who is this?” a female voice demanded.

  “Um, it’s Jacqui?” Jacqui replied. What was going on? Why wasn’t Philippe answering his phone?

  “Well, this is an unpleasant surprise,” the dulcet tones of Anna Perry said. “I’m sorry to say that Philippe is no longer open for business.”

  Click.

  What? Her hands shook as she turned off her phone. Anna Perry? Then it hit Jacqui: She’d been caught—or at least Anna thought she’d caught her. It was almost comical. After a summer of stealing kisses with Philippe, she’d been caught after they’d already stopped seeing each other.

  Jacqui sighed, realizing what this meant: She could kiss that job in New Yo
rk good-bye. No more working for the Perrys over the school year, no more Stuyvesant, no more college. She had risked everything, just for some guy. Some guy who wasn’t even worth it. Some guy who was obviously having an affair with their employer. Her whole future—down the drain.

  She looked out the window, frightened as lightning lit up the sky. She dialed another number, hoping against hope that the person she called would pick up the phone.

  Fifteen minutes, passed, thirty, then almost an hour—the car was being rocked back and forth by the wind. She had to get out of there, or the car was liable to be carried away by a flash flood soon.

  Finally, just as she’d given up hope, the headlights of a hulking Lincoln Navigator appeared out of the fog. A boy wearing a yellow slicker ran to the side of the Toyota.

  “You all right in there?” Kit called from under underneath the hood of his windbreaker.

  She nodded. He helped her out of the car. The water was ankle deep as they waded through to the behemoth SUV. Kit secured Jacqui’s door and ran around to the driver’s seat. He grinned at her when he climbed back inside.

  “Thank you so much,” Jacqui said. “I’m so sorry to bother you.”

  “Not a bother at all.” Kit smiled.

  Jacqui returned his smile, and for the first time felt butterflies in her stomach. Maybe it was simply her relief at finally being rescued, but Jacqui couldn’t stop smiling as Kit navigated his way through the flooded roads.

  He explained that all the roads back to East Hampton were blocked, and they were better off going back to his parents’ place in Wainscott. They arrived at the Ashleigh compound, the only lit-up house on the street. While the acreage surrounding the property was enormous, the house itself was just a tidy modern box—a long, squat concrete terminal with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into the ocean. Kit explained that his dad’s best friend was a famous architect and had designed it. Apparently, it was small enough—just two thousand square feet—that the European generator they’d installed could power the whole house for weeks.

  Kit drove the car into the adjoining garage and led Jacqui into the house through the kitchen, where his mother was cooking dinner on the Viking stove in an open loft-style kitchen. Unlike the Perry house, the Ashleigh house was a real home—someplace where people lived, not just a showcase.

  There was a huge black canvas on the wall that could only be a very expensive piece of art, and a few spare wool couches and leather-and-chrome chairs, but there was a newspaper disassembled on the coffee table, and dog hair on the couch, and mugs of coffee on the side tables. The shelves were lined with books, and only a few framed platinum records in an unobtrusive nook hinted at Kit’s father’s prominence in the music industry.

  “Hi, dear. Oh, is that your friend?” Kit’s mother asked pleasantly. “Awful out there, isn’t it? You must be freezing. Christopher, darling, why don’t you give Jacqui a sweater and pants from my closet so she can change?”

  There was none of the frantic confusion or unorganized panic of the Perry home, and no towels under the doorways, either. The house was built like a bunker—it was an oasis of art and light and great Italian food.

  Jacqui thanked her, feeling undeserving of so much hospitality. After showering in the steam bath and changing into a bulky black sweater and a pair of sweatpants, she had dinner with Kit’s parents, regaling them with stories of Brazil and her observations of the Hamptons, and after the Ashleighs retired for the evening, she helped Kit load the dishwasher and clean up the kitchen.

  They brought out Kit’s duvet and snuggled underneath it on the couch, watching the news. There were several mudslides reported in the cliffs, and the ocean was rising at a dangerous speed.

  “I hope the Perrys are all right,” Jacqui said, gnawing on her fingernails. She was worried about them, but also worried about what would happen when she returned. Anna was sure to fire her ass as soon as she set foot back on the estate.

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” Kit said. “I talked to Ryan, and it sounds like they have it under control.”

  Jacqui leaned her head affectionately on Kit’s shoulder. She’d never thought of Kit as anything but a friend, but as she sat beside him on his couch, feeling safe and protected and secure in his warm stone house, Jacqui felt the first stirrings of something deeper—something more than lust—and it dawned on her that maybe this was what really liking someone, as opposed to wanting them, felt like.

  “You’ve got to give me time,” she whispered, putting a hand on Kit’s red cheek. He was so pale, his skin was too sensitive, and his hair was so blond it was almost white. He definitely had potential.

  “Huh?” Kit asked sleepily.

  “Nothing,” Jacqui said.

  “Are you comfortable?” Kit asked.

  Jacqui nodded. She’d never felt more at home.

  a bathrobe never looked so good

  MARA FELT BAD FOR RYAN. HE LOOKED SO SAD, JUST standing there, dripping wet in the kitchen, a pack of Rice-A-Roni in his hand.

  “Listen, you don’t have to say anything,” she said. The thought broke her heart, but if Ryan and Eliza were happy together, then she would just have to find a way to be happy for them.

  “I don’t?” he asked, confused.

  “I know you and Eliza are together now, and it’s . . . fine. I just want you guys to be happy . . .” she said, her voice trailing.

  Ryan shuffled and put down the cardboard box. “But that’s what I’m telling you—I’m not with Eliza. Eliza and I . . . we’re just friends,” he said, stepping toward her. “We’re good friends, but that’s all.”

  “You’re not? With Eliza? But . . . I don’t understand,” Mara said, taking a step closer to him. Then she saw that his lips were a little purple. “Oh God, you’re freezing,” she said, before Ryan could say anything else.

  “But I want to tell you something,” Ryan said, dripping fat, wet rain droplets on the floor.

  “Okay, but you need to get out of those wet clothes first,” she said, “Come on.”

  “I am c-cold,” he said, shivering. “Come with me?” he said as he began stripping off his outer clothes on the way to his room. When they arrived at the top of the stairs, Mara saw that a maid had already started a fire in the fireplace next to his bed. Ryan stood next to it and started looking a little less blue.

  “Here,” she said, holding a fluffy white towel from the bathroom. “You need to get dry, or you’ll catch the flu or something.”

  “Mara, wait—we need to talk,” Ryan said, rubbing the towel against his neck. His T-shirt was drenched. “Do you mind?” he asked, tugging at the shirt.

  “Um, oh, no,” Mara said, turning around. “Go ahead, I won’t look.”

  Ryan laughed. “No, I mean, will you help me?”

  Mara lost all her self-consciousness as she helped him out of his soaked clothes. He stripped off his wet jeans, and Mara handed him his bathrobe. He looked so handsome, so tan against the terry cloth, so nearly naked. . . .

  “So, Mara . . . I just wanted to tell you . . .” he said awkwardly. “I mean, this is kind of hard to say.”

  “Yes?” Mara looked at him hopefully.

  “It’s just that, well, this summer, you know, I . . . just . . . I just . . .” He shook his head and looked grimly into the flames. “I missed you this summer, you know,” he finally said. He exhaled. “I guess I missed—I miss—the old Mara.”

  “I do too,” Mara said, her throat tightening as she sat down on the side of his bed, deflated. The old Mara. The Mara before the earring scandal, the Garrett Reynolds debacle, the Perry sisters’ nickname. She didn’t know who the old Mara was anymore. She certainly wasn’t just some small-town girl from Sturbridge anymore, but she wasn’t a Hamptons swan, either.

  “Ryan, I feel awful. I’ve been terrible. I just . . . I just . . .” Her eyes filled with tears, and when they fell, she couldn’t stop them. “I just got carried away, and all I wanted was to be with you. I don’t even know why I was with
Garrett all the time. I just wanted to make you jealous.”

  “Well, it worked.” He laughed, sitting down next to her.

  “I kind of think he was only with me to make you jealous too,” Mara said. “When he broke up with me, he said it’d all been worth it for ‘the Perry factor,’ whatever that meant.”

  Ryan shook his head. “He’s been like that since we were kids. He stole my first girlfriend, back in sixth grade. Sophomore year, I took this girl to the winter ball and he took her home.” He shrugged. “He’s a douche.”

  Mara squeezed his knee sympathetically and smiled at Ryan’s summation of Garrett’s personality. He was a douche.

  “You know, I really lost it when you broke up with me,” Ryan said. “I should have said something, I should have come down to Sturbridge. Tried to get you to change your mind . . .”

  “I just never thought a guy like you could be my boyfriend,” she admitted. “I thought if I broke up with you first, I could make it easier on myself.”

  They hadn’t been looking at each other when they were talking, preferring to confess to the fire, but finally, Mara turned to face Ryan. She pushed his bangs off his forehead.

  “I did so many things this summer that I regret,” she sighed. “I’ve been so awful to Eliza and Jacqui. And I was so rude to my sister when she was here.”

  “Eliza and Jacqui and your sister will all forgive you,” he said reassuringly. “It’s all going to be all right.”

  “No, everyone hates—” But before she could finish, he was kissing her. And she was kissing him back. It was so sweet it was almost painful.

  He pulled her toward him, his fingers lost in her hair, and she wrapped her arms around him. They kept kissing and kissing and kissing, without stopping to breathe, as if the only thing that mattered was pouring their souls into each other through their kisses. She shivered, and he pulled his bathrobe open, wrapping it around her, too.

  Mara closed her eyes, elated and anxious. There was no one else for her, and no one else for him. He was everything she’d ever wanted, and even though she was still anxious that she’d made a mess of a million things, she let her body melt into his. It was as if they were made for each other, and their bodies were telling each other what their hearts had been feeling for a long, long time.