by Jac Simensen
“I think you got them confused. This is Julie.”
“No, Gordy. You’ve got Janna.”
“How can you be so sure? I think this is Julie.”
“It’s a woman thing. I can tell from their personalities and by the way they move and talk. You’ve got Janna.”
“Maybe we’ll cut Janna’s hair shorter, and then there’d be no doubt.” On cue, Janna smacked Gordon on the nose with her hand. “Ouch, that hurt!”
Nila grinned. “Careful! They understand everything we say.”
Gordon shook his head. “All right, no haircuts. At least, not now.”
~*~
Nila stepped into the tub, sat, and placed Julie between her legs. She gently poked Julie’s navel. “He’ll never guess that you’re the twin with the slightly convex belly-button,” she cooed to the baby. Julie laughed loudly as she splashed her arms in the bath water.
“You can bring Janna in now,” Nila called to Gordon.
“Are you decent?”
“I don’t know about decent—I’m still in my bikini.”
Gordon knelt by the side of the tub and carefully lowered Janna into the water between Nila’s legs, facing Julie.
“When you bathe them in the tub like this, make sure you put your back to the spout and taps. They could get a nasty injury if they fell into the spout,” Nila said.
“I’ve only ever bathed them in the plastic tub. That’s how Karen and Mary did it.”
“They’re getting too big for the little tub. Besides, it’s much easier to bathe the two at once this way and they enjoy the splashing.”
“How long have you been doing this, Nila? Being a nanny, I mean?”
“Since I left school—about five years.”
“You learned about childcare at school?”
“No. Actually, I studied for university. Do you know how the English school system works?”
Gordon shook his head. “Not really.”
“I got five A-levels, enough to get into a decent university, but it just didn’t work out. Mum got sick, and Della and I, with Mum’s assistant, had to run her business: a travel-bookings agency. By the time she got well, I’d lost interest in going to university. So I went to classes and became a nanny. It’s fine for now, but I don’t fancy doing it for the rest of my life. I expect I’ll have my own little ones someday. Maybe beautiful twins, like these two, if I’m lucky.”
Julie reached up to grab Nila’s hair but instead accidentally pulled down the side of Nila’s bikini top. Nila’s left breast slid out of the bra. Gordon noticed that, while not particularly large, her breast was well-formed with a brown, perky nipple. He knew that he should look away but found himself unable to do so.
Nila looked down. “Can you pull that strap over my shoulder?”
Gordon fumbled with the strap, but the breast remained exposed.
“Here, hold this squirming baby.” Nila pulled the bra top up and adjusted the strap. Gordon was blushing.
Nila smiled. “I might as well show you the other one. Then you’ll have seen the whole package.”
“I’m sorry about the other night. It was rude of me to mention that you weren’t dressed. I shoulda kept quiet.”
“It doesn’t matter. I would have noticed eventually, when I got back in bed. It was less embarrassing for me that you said something. That way I didn’t have to wonder what you saw and what you didn’t. Don’t think anything of it.”
For the last two days, Gordon had thought of little else.
7
“Hello...seven-five-two-double-six-two-four,” Nila answered.
“What?”
“This is the Hale residence.”
“Who is this? Who are you?”
“This is Nila Rawlings.”
“Nila who? Who are you?”
“I’m the nanny.”
“Oh, I see. Let me talk to Gordy.”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Hale isn’t available.”
“Oh, he isn’t...Where is he?”
“I believe he drove to the village.”
“What village? What are you talking about?”
Nila rolled her eyes. “If you give me your name and telephone number, I’ll give them to him when he returns.”
“When will he be back?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“Tell him that Maggie called.”
Nila wasn’t enjoying the conversation and decided to have a little fun. “Let me write that down... McGee. Is that Mrs. McGee?”
“What? No, it’s Maggie, not McGee, you idiot.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Maggie. Does Mr. Hale have your telephone number?”
“It’s just Maggie, not Mrs. Maggie. The number’s two-oh-seven-six-six-two-five.”
“Let me repeat that back to you. Two-naught-seven-double-six-two-five.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying! Forget about the number. Just tell Gordy I’ll call back soon.”
Nila affected her best minstrel-show accent. “Yes’m, I surely do dat.”
Maggie slammed down the phone.
Nila put the phone back on the wall and started to laugh. “Bloody cow!”
Nila was setting out the ingredients for the twins’ lunch when Gordon strolled into the kitchen, a large paper bag dangling by the handles from each hand. “You are in for a great treat—Kopel’s just got in some fresh stone crabs. Ever had stone crab?”
“Can’t say that I have. Is it like lobster? I had lobster once with Amy—it was lovely.”
“No, not like lobster.” Gordon took a large paper-wrapped parcel from the shopping bag and unfolded it to reveal a dozen off-white and salmon-pink crab claws.
“Those are huge! Where’s the rest of the crab?”
“That’s it. You only eat the claws. Just one claw—one claw from each crab. When they catch ’em, they break off the bigger claw of the two and then throw the crab back.”
“What a waste. You don’t eat the whole crab—just one claw?”
“The crab doesn’t die—it grows a new claw in a year or two. The season will be over soon, so we were lucky that Kopel’s had these.”
“I hope you’re planning on fixing them. I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Sure, I’ll fix ’em, they’re already cooked. The only preparation is cracking the shells. I’ll do that just before dinner. And look what else!” Gordon put his hand in the bag and pulled out several ears of fresh corn.
“That’s corn, isn’t it? I’ve never seen corn with the green and hairy bits attached.”
“Corn on the cob, with butter and salt—it’s ambrosia.” He put the crab legs and corn into the fridge and then turned to the second bag. “I got this nice bottle of Chablis, as well. You do like wine, don’t you?”
Nila smiled. “I do, indeed.”
Gordon put the bottle into the fridge. “This will go perfectly with the stone crab.”
“Gordy, the wine is a surprise. I thought that you didn’t drink. You haven’t had a drop the entire time I’ve been here.”
Gordon started to put the jars of baby food and boxes of baby cereal he’d bought into the cupboard. “If you promise not to tell a soul, I’ll let you in on a dark family secret. The Hales are all alcoholics; it runs in the blood. My father was a heavy drinker. Whiskey. I rarely saw my mother totally sober—she was almost always in control of herself but just a bit tipsy. Mary had a drinking incident at Smith—that’s a college—and she hardly drinks anything at all now, except at weddings and family events. That’s the dark secret.”
“And you?”
“I had a few incidents after drinking too much beer in college, but I love wine. My law-school roommate’s family was in the wine business, in Oregon. So my legal education included a lot of wine instruction and experience as well as law. Karen and I almost always had a glass or three with dinner. After she died, with our family history, I wasn’t sure that I could trust myself not to take refuge in the bottle. So I cleared out all Mother’s bott
les of vodka and gin and decided not to buy any more wine. That is, until today.”
“Why today?”
Gordon shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just remembered how well a nice white wine goes with stone crab. Maybe I’m feeling more confident about not turning into a street person. I don’t really know.” He changed the subject. “Are you going out to sketch this afternoon?”
“In a bit. I thought I’d feed the girls first—unless you want to.”
“I don’t mind. Either way’s fine.”
“I’ll do it in a few minutes. I’m making myself a hot dog on a bun with crisps for lunch. Interested?”
“That would be great—thanks. Did you finish the drawing of the pelicans on the driftwood?”
“It’s almost done.”
“Can I see it?”
“If you set the table and get out the mustard, or whatever you want for your hot dog, I’ll get my sketchbook. Iced tea okay?”
Gordon nodded. “Sure.”
Nila returned and set the sketchbook in front of Gordon. “There are a couple of new things in there you haven’t seen.” She leaned over his shoulder and turned to a pencil drawing of the twins. “I did this earlier in the week, when they were absorbed watching a ladybird crawling up the screen door.”
“What kind of bird?”
“No, not a bird. A ladybird—an insect. You know, a tiny little thing with a red back and black spots?”
“You mean a ladybug.”
“Ladybird, ladybug...”
Gordon turned the sketchbook toward the light. “Nila, this is really good; this is the best one yet. You’ve captured their personalities—just look at those serious expressions!”
“I’m happy you like it. I was rather chuffed myself.”
“Chuffed?”
“You know, pleased.” “You really are talented. Have you ever thought of pursuing a career in the arts?”
Nila shook her head. “I’m not that good. Really, I’m not. I’ve seen enough student work in the art school I modeled at to know that I’m about average. Even with lots of instruction, I’d still be average. It’s only my hobby—the way I focus on the small bits of life.”
“How about if I buy this sketch? It could be your first sale on the road to fame and riches!”
Nila laughed. “How about I give it to you instead?”
“That’s very generous of you. You’ll have to sign it—it’ll be worth a fortune when you’re discovered.”
“I’m afraid you’re probably the only one who’ll discover me.”
Gordon grinned. “Maybe so.”
Nila moved the sketchbook to the kitchen counter and set a plate with a hot dog in a bun and potato chips in front of Gordon. Nila set down a plate for herself and joined Gordon at the table. They ate in silence for several minutes, until the phone rang.
Nila stood and moved toward the phone. “Gordy, I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell you that a woman named Maggie phoned while you were gone. I think she’s Amy Cartwright’s sister.”
Gordon made a sour face. “Did she leave a message?” The phone continued to ring.
“No, she just said she’d call back. I must say, she wasn’t exactly pleasant.”
“She rarely is, unless she’s trying to get her way. Let it ring. I don’t want to talk to her.”
“She’s a friend?”
“Hardly. Maggie is strikingly beautiful, rich, and thoroughly indulged. She thinks that the world and everyone in it—including me—exists for her amusement.”
Nila sat down again. “That doesn’t sound at all like Amy. Amy’s attractive, and obviously not short on brass, but she doesn’t flaunt either her looks or her money.”
“I don’t know Amy. The Cartwright sisters are like Mary and me in reverse order. Maggie’s my age—about eight years older than Amy.”
“You’ve got that wrong—Amy’s the same age as me. If you’re the same age as her sister, then that would make Amy about six years younger.”
“Whadya mean?”
“I’m almost twenty-four and you’re almost thirty—so there are about six years between us. It would be the same for them.” The phone stopped ringing.
Gordon wiped his lips with a paper napkin. “Just six years, huh? What I was trying to say was that Amy was very young when I stayed here in the summer. I only remember her as a skinny little kid.”
“I thought that you only spent winter school holidays here. Isn’t that what you told me?”
Gordon shook his head. “I went into forced exile the summer between my junior and senior years at college. I got a DUI—do you know what that is?”
Nila nodded. “Drunk driving.”
“Right, drunk driving. The court took away my driver’s license for twelve months. It was a second offense and the judge was going to put me in jail for a month, but Uncle Duncan, our lawyer, convinced him to put me under house arrest in Castle Key for the rest of the summer. So, Mary and Mother put me under the supervision of my maiden aunt, and sent the two of us here to the beach cottage: no license, no car, no beer, no social life, and no fun. At that time, Castle Key was a pretty quiet place for a nineteen-year-old without a car, even more so than today. Aunt Ella was an effective prison warden and took my court-imposed sentence quite seriously. But, after her evening sherry, she was always asleep by ten.”
“But you didn’t have a car.”
“No, but Maggie did—a classic Jaguar roadster. I met her not long after my sentence started. I was walking on the beach. She was with a couple of girlfriends, sunning at the back of the Cartwrights’ pool house—you know, by those huge royal palms.”
Nila nodded.
“I waved, and they waved back, so I joined them. Maggie was sensational—long blonde hair, pretty face, perfect figure, skimpy bikini, bronzed all over, and wide brown eyes. My senses were overwhelmed, and I instantly fell in lust.”
Nila laughed. “And did this goddess reciprocate your lustful desires?”
“Hold on—I’ll get to that. After a couple of gin and tonics, I explained my situation and Maggie volunteered to pick me up out at the main road that night. Maggie knew every bar and disco on the west coast of Florida where underage kids could get a drink and dance. We spent the next seven weeks exploring them all.”
“Your aunt never caught on?”
“Never. I was sorta like a vampire who had to be home before the sun came up. Out at eleven and always home in bed by three or four. Mrs. Kavlosky figured things out, but she never told Aunt Ella.”
“Mrs. Kavlosky saw you in Maggie’s car?”
Gordon chuckled. “Not exactly. When she was doing the wash, she discovered some Trojans I’d left in my trouser pocket.”
“Trojans?”
“You know—rubbers.”
Nila looked puzzled. “I don’t understand why would you have rubbers in your pocket.”
Gordon reddened. “Birth control,” he said.
“Oh, you mean condoms! Rubbers are erasers, like on the ends of pencils.”
Gordon shook his head. “So much for speaking the same language.”
“So I take it from the condoms—rubbers—that Maggie did return your lust?”
“All summer long.”
“I don’t get it. Maggie was beautiful, sexy, and rich. She rescued you, took you to all the fun places, and had sex with you—I take it the sex was okay?”
“Terrific.”
“Then why do you say she’s not your friend?”
“Simple: I never really knew her. All we did was party, drink, and screw—that means sexual intercourse.”
Nila nodded. “We say shag, but screw’s universal.”
Gordon leaned back in his chair. “Aunt Ella had a medical problem and needed to go back to Boston in mid-August, so Mary took over for the last few weeks of my sentence. Unlike Aunt Ella, Mary didn’t give a rat’s ass if I rode around in Maggie’s car as long as I didn’t drive, so I was able to spend some time during the day away from the house with
Maggie. My God, she was like Jekyll and Hyde. In the light of day, Maggie became nasty with her parents and housekeeper, rude to shopkeepers, and even demanding of my attention—a thoroughly unpleasant person. She even looked different—cruel and hard.”
“That’s quite a transformation.”
Gordon shook his head. “Not really. Up until then, I’d only seen her for a few hours at a time and always when we were having fun. Never in the daylight and never in real life. A few days before I was to return home, she asked me when we were going to announce our engagement. At first, I laughed, but then realized that she was actually serious. I told her that I had another year of college and then law school ahead of me before I could even think about marriage, to anyone. She exploded. She screamed that I had used her and howled the worst profanities you could imagine. I came back here and told Mary the entire story. Mary just laughed and told me to forget about Maggie. We flew out the next day.”
“You never saw her again?”
“Never, but I heard a lot from her. First the letters: one letter would profess her deep love and passion, and the next would say how she hated me for stealing her virginity.” Gordon smirked. “I chuckled at that one.”
“How long did she keep writing to you?”
“For two or three months. She sent letters to me, to Mary, to my mother, to the dean of the college...Then the phone calls began. Her father’s lawyer called, threatening a lawsuit. I started to get paranoid and even imagined that someone was following me. Mary and I went to see Uncle Duncan; he’s the managing partner of our family’s law firm, the one where I work now. Duncan is well-connected—he made a call and the letters and phone calls stopped. That was it. I never heard from Maggie again, until now.”
Nila stood and began to clear the table. “What a bizarre tale. I had an ex-boyfriend once who wouldn’t leave me alone, but nothing like that. Are you going to talk with her?”
“I don’t think so. What could it possibly accomplish?”
“Maybe she wants to express her sympathy over Karen’s death, or maybe to apologize for her past behavior?”
“That doesn’t sound like Maggie. And just talking about her creeps me out.”
“What should I say if she calls back?”
“Would you mind telling her that I don’t wanna talk to her?”