Virtually Perfect

by Paige Roberts

  “Why don’t I take a quick look through her cupboard and check the dates on whatever is in there, and I’ll restock as necessary, just to get her started. I can pick up a few things for the fridge, too.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Kathryn said. She wrung her hands. “I just want everything to be as close to perfect as possible when she gets here. If we start fresh, on a high note . . . or at least try . . . well, I think it would be good for all of us.”

  Lizzie nodded in pretend agreement, but as she studied Kathryn’s taut expression something told her Zoe’s arrival wouldn’t be good for anyone at all.

  * * *

  By four o’clock, Lizzie had done all of her shopping and there was still no sign of Zoe. Kathryn paced around the house, continually checking her phone and peering out the windows, her nervous energy electrifying the air. The entire scenario struck Lizzie as strange and highly dysfunctional (Why couldn’t Kathryn just call Zoe and ask her what time she’d arrive? Why couldn’t Zoe give a straight answer?), but none of it was really her business.

  What was her business was getting dinner on the table, and the cloud of uncertainty over Zoe’s appearance made it difficult for Lizzie to plan. Did she need to prepare something for Zoe to eat? Or could she stick with the scallops, beans, and cauliflower purée she intended to make for Kathryn and Jim? She didn’t know what to do, and every time she broached the topic Kathryn’s anxiety seemed to boil over, launching a new round of cell phone checks and hand-wringing.

  When another hour passed without any word from the Silvesters’ daughter, Lizzie decided to get on with her prep work. Even if Zoe showed up at six o’clock, Lizzie would still have time to cobble something together for her, since Jim and Kathryn didn’t eat until seven. Fridays tended to be early evenings, which suited Lizzie just fine. Jim was usually tired from a long week at CC Media and only wanted to eat dinner and kick up his feet on one of their deck chairs while he caught up on The Economist and Businessweek. Kathryn typically sat next to him, jabbering about her week, as he nodded with the occasional, “Uh-huh . . . Really . . . ?” Lizzie wondered if Kathryn knew he wasn’t really listening. If she did, she didn’t seem to care.

  Lizzie trimmed the beans, tossing the ends into the compost bin that Manuel regularly emptied for the gardener to use. She couldn’t believe she was working for someone who had a gardener. The novelty of the Silvesters’ extensive staff still hadn’t worn off. To whatever extent Lizzie thought the house might feel empty during the week without Jim, the constant bustle of maids, gardeners, pool cleaners, and drivers proved her wrong. Some days she felt as if she were living in a modern-day Downton Abbey.

  She tossed the beans into a bowl and eyed Zoe’s dedicated cabinet. Earlier, she’d replenished the almonds, cashews, and pumpkin seeds, all of which were several months out-of-date, and added a few other odds and ends she thought Zoe might enjoy. She couldn’t believe how much food Zoe had left to spoil—entire bags of nuts and seeds and powders, some of them never opened. Having scrimped and saved for the last year she lived in New York, Lizzie couldn’t imagine having such a full cupboard, much less one so carelessly maintained. And anyway, even if she had all the money in the world, Lizzie couldn’t let so many perfectly good—and expensive! —ingredients go to waste. She took pride in always being able to find a use for something, whether it was a lonely carrot or a bag of walnuts.

  The minutes ticked by until it was well past six, at which point Kathryn poked her head into the butler’s pantry.

  “Jim is here,” she said. “So we’re still on track for seven.”

  “Just the two of you . . . ?” Lizzie didn’t want to mention Zoe’s name because every time she did it set Kathryn off. But for the sake of her job, she needed to know how much dinner to make and for whom.

  “I . . . well, I guess so.” She heaved a sigh as she checked her phone for what must have been the thousandth time that day. “She would have texted by now if she were coming. Unless her phone died. But that doesn’t seem likely. She has a charger in the car. Maybe there’s something wrong with her car. Jim said he took it for a spin last week, but no one had driven it in ages. I wonder if it broke down. Or got a flat. Oh, God—can you imagine? Zoe changing a flat? She’d have to call Triple A. Unless her phone died. Do you think her phone died?”

  She went on and on in circles, asking questions that Lizzie had no ability to answer and that seemed more rhetorical than anything else. By the time she’d repeated the question about Zoe’s phone dying for the fifth time, Lizzie thought Kathryn’s head might spin off.

  “Why don’t I plan on dinner for just you and Mr. Silvester, and if Zoe arrives . . . we can cross that bridge then.”

  “Yes. Okay. That should work. Unless . . . no, no, never mind. That will be fine.”

  She glanced at her phone one more time before shaking her head and leaving. Lizzie set to work, caramelizing the shallots for the green beans and boiling the cauliflower for the purée. She was a little bored with this meal—Jim seemed to request some variation of it every time he visited—but she knew the importance of keeping the boss happy, and on some level she was glad he had enjoyed it enough the first time to keep asking for it.

  When she finished plating the food, she picked up both plates and carried them into the dining room, where she found Jim and Kathryn sitting in what seemed to be their assigned seats. Lizzie found it a little funny: twenty seats, and they chose the same ones every time. But she also understood. When it had been just her and her mom, they always sat in the same seats, too. Granted, the table in their Glenside kitchen was tiny—barely big enough for four—but there was no reason they couldn’t have rotated positions or sat on the other side of the table. They just never did. Lizzie supposed they liked the predictability, especially when so much in their lives had been up in the air.

  “It’s ridiculous,” Jim snapped as he unfolded his napkin.

  “Maybe something happened.... I mean, there’s no reason to jump to conclusions—”

  “I’m not. I’m saying it’s ridiculous. Because it is.”

  Given their tone, Lizzie suspected they were discussing Zoe. In the three weeks she’d worked for them, Lizzie noticed their tone changed when they discussed their daughter. Kathryn got defensive, and Jim got exasperated, and they both seemed on edge. Lizzie always pretended she didn’t notice, but she did and had so many questions.

  “It isn’t ridiculous,” Kathryn said. “Or, I don’t know, maybe it is a little, but you know how she—Ah! Would you look at those scallops!”

  As usual, Kathryn changed the conversation as soon as she noticed Lizzie approaching the table. Lizzie was tempted to say, No, no, please continue. I’m dying to hear more. But she was staff, and if she’d learned anything over the past three weeks, it was that staff were meant to be seen and not heard.

  “She’s done it again!” Kathryn trilled. “Crisp and golden, just the way you like them.”

  She was trying so hard to seem cheerful. It made Lizzie a little sad.

  “Thanks,” Jim said as Lizzie put his plate in front of him. “They look great.”

  “Enjoy.”

  She had turned to go back to the butler’s pantry when she heard the clickety-clack of heels on the stairway. She assumed it was Barb, who’d decided to crash their dinner plans (she regularly turned up unannounced and almost seemed to live at the house when Jim wasn’t around), but instead, a lissome blonde with long, wavy hair appeared at the top of the stairs. She wore a sheer, floaty white maxi dress and what looked like fifty different bangle bracelets, some thin, some thick, some covered with jingly charms. The dress was slit up the side all the way to her mid-thigh, and she still hadn’t removed her oversize brown sunglasses, even though she was inside. She clasped a slouchy leather purse over her shoulder.

  “Zoe!” Kathryn cried, clapping her hands together. “You’re here!”

  “I told you I was coming today.” She had an unexpectedly deep voice, rife with ennui.

&
nbsp; “But you didn’t say when. Did you get any of my texts?”

  “I don’t know. What did they say?”

  “I guess it depends on the text—I sent a bunch, and some were longer than others.... Actually, thinking about it, some were probably a little too long. Maybe that was part of the problem—”

  “They asked what time you might grace us with your presence,” Jim cut in, obviously annoyed.

  “Well, I’m gracing you now.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said I’m gracing you now. Mystery solved.”

  “Watch your tone.”

  “Oh, so you’re the only one who gets to be snippy?”

  “Now everyone calm down,” Kathryn said with a nervous smile. “The weekend is just beginning! Let’s not start off on the wrong foot. Zoe is here now, and that’s all that matters. Zoe, dear, we were just sitting down to dinner, if you’d care to join us?”

  Zoe cast an unimpressed look at the table. “What is it?”

  “Scallops, green beans, and cauliflower purée. I know you don’t eat scallops, but I’m sure Lizzie would be happy to make something else for you.”

  “Who’s Lizzie?”

  Kathryn smacked her forehead. “I’m sorry—I haven’t introduced you. Zoe, this is Lizzie, our cook for the summer.”

  Lizzie waved and attempted a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  Zoe just stared back. “Same,” she finally said.

  “Could I make you something to eat?” Lizzie asked. “Maybe something to go with the beans? Those are vegan.”

  “What’s in them?”

  “Caramelized shallots and some salt and pepper.”

  “They look greasy.”

  “Zoe!” Jim snapped.

  “I’m just saying.”

  Lizzie flushed. She didn’t know what to say. She also kept eyeing the beans. Did they look greasy? She didn’t think so. She hoped they tasted okay.

  “I’m sure Lizzie would be happy to make you something else,” Kathryn said.

  “Anything you want,” Lizzie said, though the more time she spent in Zoe’s presence the less inclined she felt to do anything for her at all.

  Zoe tapped her fingers against her lips. “I think I’m going to meet up with some friends at The Princeton,” she said. “I’ll take a pass tonight.”

  “Are you sure?” Kathryn asked. “Lizzie is a wonderful cook—I’m sure she could make you something.”

  Zoe rummaged through her purse and pulled out a lip gloss, which she slicked over her lips. “No thanks—I’m good.”

  She popped the gloss back in her purse, and as she skipped down the stairs Lizzie couldn’t help but think “good” was the last word she’d use to describe her.

  CHAPTER 12

  When Lizzie awoke Sunday morning, she had a text on her phone from April Sherman:

  Funny running into you the other week. Hope all is well.

  Lizzie stared at the message. According to the log on her phone, the last time she and April had communicated via text was five years ago. It was a message from April that read: “Karma’s a bitch, huh?” Lizzie suddenly felt queasy.

  Her finger hovered over the keyboard on her phone as she contemplated what to say. The truth was, she missed April. She missed a lot of the friends she’d lost, ones who’d ditched her when her star began to fall or others she’d let drift away when her star was rising. But of all of them, she probably missed April the most. For most of her time at Penn, she considered April her best friend. Then Lizzie had hit it big, and April felt left behind, and Lizzie knew that was mostly her own fault.

  She tapped out a response:

  Great seeing you. Would love to catch up at some point. Any chance you’ll be in Avalon again this summer?

  She knew her suggestion was a long shot—both that April would be in Avalon again and, if she was, that she’d have any interest in catching up with Lizzie. But Lizzie also realized this might be her last opportunity to extend an olive branch, so she should make the most of it.

  She slid her phone back onto the nightstand and threw on a T-shirt and pair of denim shorts. It was nearly eight thirty, which meant the Stone Harbor Farmers Market would be up and running for its opening weekend. Lizzie wanted to head out before it got too crowded. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, grabbed her purse, and tossed her phone inside before slipping on a pair of flip-flops and heading out the door.

  She made her way toward her car, which was parked next to a graphite BMW Z4 convertible. Zoe’s car, if she had to guess. She hadn’t seen Zoe—or her car—since their first interaction Friday night. Where had Zoe been the past day and a half? Lizzie had no idea.

  The car’s metallic finish sparkled in the light from the morning sun. Lizzie was jealous. Not that she didn’t appreciate her mom’s 2007 Honda, but next to Zoe’s car it looked so . . . boring. Ordinary. How Lizzie imagined she might look if she stood next to Angelina Jolie or Heidi Klum. Lizzie had obviously been attractive enough to appear on TV, but even on her best day she couldn’t compete with the bombshells. She secretly wondered if her TV career would have ended so abruptly if she were a pneumatic blonde. She kept herself in decent shape, but she could only work with the genetic material she’d been given. Same with the Honda. To whatever extent her mom kept up the maintenance on her vehicle, it would never be a fifty-thousand-dollar sports car.

  Her mom had, indeed, maintained the Honda, which was part of the reason Lizzie was so surprised when her mom offered it to her for the summer. Surely her mom couldn’t survive in the suburbs without a set of wheels. But apparently her new boyfriend (or special friend, as she tended to call him) lent her the off-road Jeep he used for weekend adventures, so she would have transportation after all. It struck Lizzie as odd, both that her mother would date someone who was into off-roading and that she would drive a vehicle suited for such activities. She had driven sedans her entire life—Hondas and Toyotas and Fords. What did she know about driving through gravel, mud, and rocks? She didn’t even like driving on a street with a lot of potholes. She said it gave her headaches. But if she was willing to part with her practical and reliable Accord, Lizzie was willing to take it.

  She backed out of her spot and turned south on Dune Drive as she headed for the farmers’ market. Renata had recommended it as a good place to pick up fresh vegetables, along with specialty goods such as pies and olive oil and cheese. The market took place in a plaza next to the town’s water tower, just off 95th Street, and Lizzie managed to find a parking spot on 96th, right in front of a shop called the Bread and Cheese Cupboard.

  As soon as she stepped out of the car, she sniffed the air. Cinnamon buns. Fresh, hot cinnamon buns. She’d know that smell anywhere. She peered in the window of the shop and saw trays of huge, pillowy buns slathered in creamy white frosting, along with other trays filled with raisin-studded sticky buns, freshly glazed doughnuts, and streusel-topped muffins. A long line of families waited with impatient little ones, who eagerly awaited their vacation morning sugar rush.

  Lizzie bypassed the shop’s temptations and made her way to the plaza behind the shop, where the farmers’ market was in full swing. She saw a few young children running around with bacon on a stick and freshly fried doughnuts. She strolled past vendors selling homemade dog treats and homemade pies until she happened upon tables overflowing with fresh produce: lettuces and peas and spinach and cherries. It was still a little early for her summer favorites—the sugary-sweet corn and juicy tomatoes—but she knew in a matter of weeks these tables would be buckling under the weight of summer’s bounty.

  Jim wasn’t leaving until early Monday morning, so tonight would be his last dinner, and he’d requested turkey burgers. Kathryn wouldn’t eat a bun and Zoe wouldn’t eat anything but the vegetable toppings, so Lizzie needed to make sure there were plenty of sides to make everyone happy. She wasn’t actually sure Zoe would be joining them. No one ever seemed to know Zoe’s plans. When would she arrive? Would she be joining them for dinner
? Had she slept at home last night? Where was she? The family dynamic was completely dysfunctional, and Lizzie sensed Kathryn and Jim knew it. But Kathryn in particular seemed hesitant to criticize Zoe about anything.

  “Let’s focus on the positive,” she kept saying to Jim, though she never managed to articulate what those positives were. Jim didn’t seem to know either, because inevitably he replied with a huff or an eye roll.

  Lizzie grabbed a smattering of green vegetables that she would turn into a side dish, along with some beets that she’d toss with avocados and scallions in a salad. Everything would be vegan and safe for Zoe, assuming she chose to join them. Lizzie wasn’t holding her breath.

  Before she left she also bought a bag of cherries for dessert. There was nothing quite like fresh cherries at their peak. As a little girl, before her parents divorced, she and her dad would share a bowl of cherries on the back patio, holding a contest to see who could spit the pits the farthest. Her dad almost always won, but Lizzie got pretty good at it, to her mother’s chagrin. Lizzie doubted the Silvesters ever held similar competitions. She could barely picture Kathryn spitting out toothpaste, much less a cherry pit.

  As she headed back to her car, she pulled her phone from her purse. The cherries reminded her of her parents and how she hadn’t been in touch with them in a while. She’d talked to her mom after the Memorial Day barbecue, but something about the conversation seemed off to Lizzie, and the more time that passed, the odder it seemed. Her mom sounded distracted, only half-engaged in what Lizzie was telling her about Kathryn and April and the other guests. She obviously was listening because she sounded genuinely surprised at the mention of April’s name, but there was something in her voice . . . Lizzie couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe she had mixed feelings about Lizzie being a glorified servant for the summer. All that college tuition, at an Ivy League school, and now she’s doing this? She could understand her mom’s disapproval, assuming that’s what it was.