“Yeah,” Eliza replied. “Pretty much all the houses in this part of the Hamptons are connected to the same beach—you just have to know where to walk.” She dug a toe into the sand. “Anyway, I thought this would be an appropriate spot to bring you girls on our first night.”
The three girls grinned mischievously, thinking of their skinny-dipping excursion of two years ago. They turned to look at the Perry house, memories of their first summer together rushing back. Mara put an arm around her friends’ shoulders. Eliza and Jacqui didn’t know that this spot held extra significance for her—it was where she’d first spent a night with Ryan, sleeping side by side in sleeping bags on the beach but not so much as kissing. She shook off the thought. This night was about her and her girlfriends, not her history with Ryan.
Eliza pulled the bottle out of her purse and handed it to Jacqui, who did the honors, popping the cork and sending a spray of bubbles onto the sand. The three girls giggled. Eliza reached into her purse again and produced three plastic cups. “I propose a toast—to the start of the summer.” She raised her red Solo cup, careful not to spill its contents on her white dress.
Mara’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. “I propose revising your toast—to the new start to the summer!” she said with a laugh.
“Yes,” Jacqui agreed, raising her glass. “Here’s to getting a—what is the phrase?—a much needed do-over!”
“Hear, hear!” they all cheered, sipping down the cold bubbles.
The surf was rolling in gently, and the sand was refreshingly cold and wet on their feet. A soft ocean breeze blew, and the sky was blanketed with stars. All three girls couldn’t help but feel lucky to have yet another summer to spend in such a magical place.
Mara looked back at the Perrys’ house again. “Just imagine, if those first au pairs had worked out, we never would have met,” she said softly, referring to the fact that the three of them had been hired as the “B team” after the first group of au pairs had been unceremoniously fired by Anna before the Fourth of July. During the past year, the three of them had been in New York at the same time, but they hadn’t been able to see each other nearly as much as they’d have liked. Eliza had been busy with her new arsty friends, hanging out at the basement of La Esquina with the fashion crowd, while Jacqui had no spare time between juggling the kids’ schedules and her studies. Not that Mara could talk about being busy—she’d been so wrapped up in David and Columbia that more often than not, it was she who canceled on dinner dates and brunch plans.
She looked over at Jacqui and Eliza, who were leaning on each other and happily sipping their champagne. Mara felt a shiver of delight. With the whole summer stretching ahead of them, it was time to reconnect and reacquaint with her old friends. She couldn’t wait. She’d made some good friends at college—her roommates, a debutante from Georgia and a Nantucket preppie, were both really sweet—but they were no Jacqui and Eliza. Somehow, the experience of surviving the Perrys’ dysfunctional family dynamic and the rigors of the Hamptons social scene had bonded the three of them for life.
Mara threw pebbles into the water, making them skip. “This champagne is making me hot,” she said, feeling a warm rush to her cheeks from the alcohol.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Mara grinned.
In answer, Eliza kicked off her clogs and took off her sweater. Jacqui watched with an amused expression. “Are we really going to do this?” she asked.
“Hey, it’s practically tradition!” Eliza replied.
Jacqui slid out of her skinny jeans and Mara shrugged off her sundress, following Eliza to the water. The cold waves lapped at their ankles and the breeze tickled their skin.
“This is it!” Eliza laughed, expressing what all three of them felt. That they were wild and free, at one with nature and the world, their best friends at their side. This was what life was all about—the ocean, the stars, and friendship. This was what they’d waited all year for.
“Let’s never grow up!” Mara cheered.
“Never!” Jacqui agreed. “Jovens para sempre!” Forever young.
And with that promise, the three of them bounded into the surf.
mara finds a new way
to warm up
BRRRRR. MARA STARTED SHAKING FROM THE COLD, TINY goose bumps forming all over her wet arms. Whose idea had it been to go skinny-dipping in the Atlantic Ocean anyway? Maybe she hadn’t drunk enough champagne—Eliza and Jacqui didn’t seem to feel adverse to the chill. Jacqui was doing a handstand in the waves, while Eliza floated lazily on her back.
It was with relief that Mara heard her cell phone ringing. Any excuse to get out of the ice bucket. She splashed over to the beach, jumping up and down to warm herself up. Three sets of clothes lay strewn about the sand: Eliza’s in a messy pile by a log, Jacqui’s all in a row—she apparently liked to strip as she made her way to the water—and Mara’s folded neatly by the side of the dune. Her phone kept jingling from her left jacket pocket, breaking the perfect silence of the night.
Mara crouched down and picked up her jacket. Who could be calling so late? Maybe it was David, calling from Brussels to apologize and tell her how much he missed her already? She pulled out the phone. It stopped ringing the second she picked it up. Of course.
“Mara?” A voice behind her startled her. A very, very familiar voice.
Mara almost jumped out of her birthday suit—not that that was possible. She turned around. “Oh my God!” Her hands flew to cover herself though she realized there was no need—he’d seen it all before. Because Ryan Perry was standing in front of her, an amused half smile on his face.
Mara’s dark chestnut hair was plastered to her cheek, half her body covered with sand. She was so shocked to see him that the only words that came out of her mouth were, “Why aren’t you in London?”
“Well, hello to you too,” Ryan said amiably. His honey blond hair shone under the moonlight, and his two dimples winked in his smooth, tanned cheeks. He looked just as handsome as ever, if not more so. But his face was totally unreadable. He was acting so blasé, as if he ran into naked ex-girlfriends all the time. Mara willed herself to act as nonchalantly as he was—even if he had the advantage of being fully clothed.
“Oh, sorry—it’s just that you caught me by surprise.”
“I can see that.” He grinned. “You make a habit of walking around naked these days, Waters?”
Talk about new habits. Calling her by her last name was a new habit he’d developed since they’d broken up. That and calling her “dude.” Dude? Mara was no dude. She was “babe,” “good-looking,” “sweetheart.” Not “dude.”
“Learned it from you,” she shot back flirtatiously. Ryan was a free-spirit bohemian, and during the summer they’d spent on his family’s yacht, just the two of them, there had been a lot of naked sailing, naked deep-sea fishing, even naked breakfast-eating.
“Touché, my friend.” Ryan laughed, and Mara decided to ignore the “friend” comment. “You know my habits all too well—I’m always one step away from joining a nudist colony.” He smiled wickedly.
Mara laughed. “It’s good to see you,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. How did you have a normal conversation with a guy you used to love? Especially when one of you was naked? Not wanting to bend over for her clothes, Mara took some of her long hair and tried to reposition it so that it was covering her chest. There. That was better. She crossed her arms for further coverage.
“You too.” Ryan nodded and looked down, digging a toe in the sand.
“But seriously, why are you here?” Mara tried to suppress the waves of excitement flowing through her. Not that it meant anything, especially since she had a new boyfriend now. A very cute boyfriend. Although said cute boyfriend had left her stranded at the airport that morning. Definitely not a cute move.
“You heard about London, huh?” Ryan said. “Yeah, the family moved overseas, but I’m staying at the house here until they find someone to rent it. But what about you—aren?
??t you supposed to be bumming around Prague or something? A friend of mine is doing Lonesome Planet, and I saw your name on the list. What are you doing here?”
“Taking a swim!” Mara yelled, and with that she ran toward the jet-black ocean and dove into the waves. She’d had enough of the conversation—it was just too weird and surreal to stand there in front of Ryan without any clothes on and make small talk. Cordial and civilized had never been their style.
Mara put her head down in the water, her heart racing. Ryan Perry. And he’d been keeping tabs on her, too. Seeing him was like hearing an old song come on the radio—bringing up so many old feelings and memories that you can’t tune them out. Mara swam to where her friends were still bobbing happily.
“Hey, is that Ryan?” Eliza asked, squinting and craning her neck to get a better look at the figure on the beach.
“Ryan! Come join us!” Jacqui yelled mischievously, kicking up one bare foot.
Ryan just waved at them from the shoreline. Mara was relieved to see him finally turn on his heels and walk back to the house. Because even though the water was totally freezing, she felt warm and tingly all over.
jeremy shows eliza her
future, eliza doesn’t know
if she wants to look
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” ELIZA STRETCHED HER FEET out in front of her on the dashboard of Jeremy’s truck, admiring her new pedicure—shell pink, to match the decor of her boutique, of course. The past several days had been a mad rush to get everything ready for the store launch that weekend, and she’d hardly even seen the girls since they’d gone skinny-dipping their first night. She was glad to even have snuck in some time with Jeremy.
“You’ll see.” He smiled, putting a hand on Eliza’s slim ankle. “It’s a surprise.”
“You know I hate surprises.” Eliza mock-pouted.
“You’ll like this one,” he said mysteriously.
“Fine, be that way,” she retorted, pretending to be miffed. She sighed, inhaling the woody, loamy scent of Jeremy’s truck. Despite running his own successful landscaping business, Jeremy had yet to trade in his decades-old pickup for something more expensive. When he’d pulled into the driveway to pick her up earlier, his car had looked hilariously mismatched sitting next to Eliza’s CLK convertible. But Eliza didn’t mind. Maybe the old Eliza would have badgered her boyfriend to trade up as soon as he made more money, but this Eliza didn’t care about image the way she’d used to. She liked Jeremy’s truck. It was sensible and sturdy—just like him.
Jeremy drove into one of the quiet, secluded older neighborhoods in Sagaponack, filled with white clapboard houses and picket fences. The streets were lined with enormous maple trees bowed low, their green leaves blowing gently in the breeze. The sun was just beginning to set, giving the whole scene a warm, pinkish tint. “Close your eyes,” he instructed.
“Do I have to?” she whined, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.
“Yes, and not one more peep from you, young lady.” Jeremy put on a mock-serious, teacher-y voice, taking one hand off the wheel to wag a finger at her.
Eliza closed her eyes obediently. She hadn’t been lying—she hated surprises. Eliza was the type of girl who made lists of presents for other people to get her every time Christmas or her birthday rolled around. If she received a gift that deviated from the list, she promptly returned it for store credit. She could never even read a mystery novel without reading the last page first to see whodunit. She hated suspense. But she wanted to please her boyfriend.
She wondered what trick Jeremy had up his sleeve. He’d been acting anxious all evening, alternately jittery and excited. They were so comfortable with each other, so familiar with every crevice of each other’s body, every variation on each other’s moods, that she could tell instantly when something was going on. Sometimes she felt like they were turning into an old married couple.
The car came to an abrupt stop and Eliza heard Jeremy get out of the cab, walk around, and open her door.
“Can I open them now?” she asked.
“Not yet!” He took her elbow and helped her to the ground, steadying her as she wobbled a bit on her chunky white Calypso espadrilles. They walked forward a few feet.
“Okay, now,” Jeremy said.
Eliza opened her eyes. She was standing in front of an old, regal mansion—one that needed a lot of work. The paint was peeling, the cornice crumbling. Still, it was beautiful. It reminded her a little bit of the dollhouse she’d played with as a kid, which had looked a bit like an old British manor—her own personal version of a Barbie dream house. “What’s this?”
“Remember I told you about old lady Greyson? One of my oldest clients?”
“Yeah.” Eliza nodded slowly. She vaguely remembered him talking about one of the old ladies whose gardens he tended, charging much less than he should have. Recently, he’d been acting as her pseudo-caretaker, making sure she’d taken her medicine and that she had enough groceries to see her through the week, feeding her cat, various little things. Jeremy was a sweetheart like that. But was this really her surprise? He’d taken her to meet some cranky, possibly senile old lady? Were they going to have to read her bedtime stories and give her an oatmeal sponge bath?
“Well, she passed away this week.” Jeremy looked down at the ground, kicking at a pebble with his shoe.
“Oh—I’m so sorry.” She touched his arm. Whoops. She felt like a jerk now. “I … didn’t know you guys were so close.”
“Neither did I,” Jeremy said. He looked back up at her, his eyes shining. “She was a really sweet old lady.” He paused. “Anyway, she didn’t have any family. She used to say I was the only one who cared about her in the end, but I didn’t realize it was true.”
“That’s so sad.” Eliza wrinkled her brow. “It must be terrible to die alone.”
Jeremy didn’t seem to hear her. He was gazing at the house, as if in a trance. “She left me everything,” he said softly. “Her entire estate, stocks, bonds, everything. Including the house.” He continued to stare at it, as if he were hearing the news for the first time and not the one delivering it. “I know it looks like it’s falling apart, but it’s got good bones and it’s in a great location. With a little work, a cosmetic touch-up, it could really be something.”
Eliza looked at him. He was standing so still in the golden light, looking up at the old house as if it held all the answers in the universe. All at once it sank in for her what this meant. This house was his. “Oh my God! Jeremy!” Eliza squealed.
“I know.” He turned and smiled. “She always said she wanted the house to go to someone who would take care of it. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”
“It’s fabulous,” Eliza agreed. “You’ll make a fortune renting it out next summer” She smiled. If anyone deserved a break like this, it was Jeremy. Maybe nice guys really did finish first.
“C’mon.” Jeremy took her hand. “Let me give you a tour.”
He unlocked the front door and they walked inside. The house still had the stuffy smell of age and neglect, but Eliza could see that it was a grand house indeed. “Look at this kitchen,” he said, showing her the front “master” kitchen and then leading her to a second kitchen in the back. “It’s called the scullery.” He ran a finger over a dusty countertop. “In the early twentieth century, when the house was built, kitchens were only for the help, so they were hidden from the rest of the house.” He gestured to the middle of the space. “I’m thinking of opening this up and making a big island so that it feels more modern,” he said. “Though I’ll of course defer to your taste, since the kitchen is the lady’s domain.” He turned to her and wrapped her in his arms, a sly grin spreading across his face.
“Like you’ll ever get me to cook,” Eliza said dryly, leaning her head on his shoulder. Jeremy well knew that when it came to preparing dinner, she was much more likely to shell out for a private chef than to put on an apron.
“There’s more I want to show you.” He grabbed he
r hand and took her upstairs. “See, there’s a study off the master bedroom that can be turned into a nursery.” He gestured to a small room with tall windows that really did look like it would fit a crib nicely.
“But why go to all that trouble before you know who’s going to live here?” Eliza asked, puzzled. “I mean, what if the people who move in don’t have a baby?” She walked over to the window and looked out at the enormous, beautiful yard below, the white gazebo cloaked in the orange glow of the setting sun.
“Well, what about when we have babies?” Jeremy asked innocently, coming up behind her and kissing her neck.
“Babies!” She turned and swatted his arm. “Jer, we’re babies.”
Jeremy just kept nuzzling her ear as if he hadn’t heard her. “Eleven bedrooms,” he whispered. “We can have a big family. A whole soccer team!”
“Sure, I’ll just pop them all out while I’m cooking away in the back kitchen.” Eliza laughed. He was joking, right?
He led her back downstairs and out to the garden. They walked through the overgrown yard, past the willow trees, and to the gazebo she’d seen from upstairs. Looking through it, there was a beautiful view of the ocean in the distance. “And I was thinking … this is where we’ll have our wedding,” Jeremy said softly, pointing to the gazebo. Eliza’s heart thumped in her chest. Jeremy wasn’t just fantasizing about the future. No. He was planning it.
It was so beautiful, and yet …
“E., I want you to have this,” Jeremy said, slipping a ring on her finger. Her left ring finger.
Eliza looked down in a daze. It was an enormous, glittering rock. A huge, princess—cut diamond. A princess for a princess—just like she’d always said she wanted. Eliza had always been very vocal about her bridal preferences, tossing her opinions out in the air the way she did with everything. She had no idea he’d actually been listening.