Beach Lane

  “So you guys won’t tell anyone?” Eliza asked.

  They nodded. Her secret was safe with them.

  you call this progress?

  IT WAS FINALLY TIME FOR THE FIRST WEEKLY PROGRESS report, even if the girls had been working at the Perrys for almost three weeks. Laurie assured them this time Anna and Kevin would expect them in the screening room at ten o’clock Sunday morning. The girls were nervous as they left their attic room and walked over to the main house.

  They had good reason to worry. The kids were getting on their nerves, constantly comparing them to their predecessors. “Astrid made us spicy tuna rolls.” “Camille always let us stay up till ten.” “Tara was so much prettier than you.” The little girls had been late for ballet twice because Mara was the only one who got up early enough to take them and she was always getting lost in the side streets.

  Plus they were all a little on edge ever since one of the housemaids confirmed that the original group of au pairs had worked at the Perry house since June but had been let go abruptly without any notice. They still had no clue what had gone down.

  “Quick, what was the last book we read to Cody?” Eliza asked.

  “Hop on Pop?” Mara ventured.

  “What’s that? Sounds like a porno.”

  “You have a dirty mind! It’s Dr. Seuss!”

  “Riiiight.”

  “No, I think it was Pokey Little Puppy,” Jacqui said.

  “Hop on Pokey. Got it.” Eliza nodded.

  “What did Madison have for breakfast?” Mara asked frantically.

  “What else? An ice cream cone and a tub of Oreos,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes. “Like she does every day.”

  “Noooo—she’s on that macrobiotic raw food diet! Eliza, I left the recipes on your bed. You were supposed to take care of that while Jacqui and I brought the boys to krav maga!” Mara groaned. Anna had enrolled her sons in the Israeli martial art, even though the youngest was still awfully prone to falling when he walked. Apparently karate classes just didn’t cut it.

  “What are their names again?” Jacqui asked.

  “Are you kidding me?” Mara demanded.

  Jacqui shook her head. There were so many of them, it was hard to keep track. Plus it wasn’t like she was around all that much—every minute she could find, she stole off to be with Luca. “Uh—Villiam. And Manhattan?”

  “MADISON.”

  “Sí. Zooey . . . and . . . Cory?”

  “Cody.”

  “Zoë. Tell me about Zoë,” Eliza said. “Is there something I should know about her?”

  “What’s to say? She’s still sucking her thumb and acts like a three-year-old rather than a six-year-old. Her yoga teacher complained that she kicked someone in class the other day.”

  “Pobre bebê,” Jacqui muttered.

  “What else do you think they’re going to ask?” Eliza said, wringing her hands. She didn’t want to mess up the good thing she had going. Mara basically took care of the kids while she and Jacqui spent every night partying and every day nursing their hangovers.

  “It’ll be fine,” Mara said, even though her heart was pumping hard in her chest. Cody hadn’t even stuck a toe in the water. Madison had gained two pounds. William had taken to ramming his head against the walls. Zoë barely recognized the alphabet.

  “Well, here goes.” Eliza shrugged, opening the door to the basement screening room the Perrys had installed over the spring. A large sixteen-foot-long and eight-foot-tall screen was set up at the far wall, and each girl took a seat on a black leather Barcalounger.

  They waited for ten minutes. Fifteen . . . half an hour . . .

  Jacqui fell asleep. Eliza read a copy of Vogue, happy to have a bit of quiet time away from the little devils. Mara looked at her watch anxiously.

  Finally Esperanza, the Perrys’ full-time housekeeper, appeared at the door. “Dios mío, I forgot to tell you. Laurie say Miss Anna out shopping and Mister Kevin playing tennis.”

  Oh.

  tanning is eliza’s favorite sport

  “MAR, PASS THE SUNTAN OIL,” ELIZA ORDERED FROM behind her wraparound shades. The sun was blinding, but that wasn’t the reason she hadn’t taken off her sunglasses all day.

  Earlier that morning the Doublemint twins had found her wiping up Cody’s daily spill in the sun-filled breakfast room. They were dressed in matching skimpy satin nightgowns and cashmere bathrobes. “Ew, gross,” Sugar had said, daintily stepping away from the mess.

  “How can you even touch that?” Poppy asked.

  Eliza’s cheeks burned as she scrubbed the floor on her knees. She hadn’t counted on the twins getting up so early.

  “Did you call Kit?” Poppy asked her sister. “What time is he picking us up to hit Sunset Beach?”

  Sugar gave Poppy a warning look, not so subtly motioning toward Eliza, who could hear them perfectly even if their backs were turned to her.

  “I don’t know; let’s check later,” Sugar said, taking a banana from the fruit bowl. “Hey, Eliza, did you remember to call Jean-Luc to make us a reservation?” Poppy asked.

  “Yeah, you’re booked for eight-thirty,” Eliza mumbled, picking up the baby from his high chair.

  “You made sure we got the corner table, right?”

  “That’s what they told me.”

  “Huh. Well, if we’re seated anywhere else, I’m so not going to be very happy,” Poppy threatened.

  Sugar shrugged, gave Eliza a half-scornful, half-pitying look, and followed her sister out of the room.

  After they were gone, Eliza had quietly sobbed into Cody’s Diaper Genie. It just wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. . . . She was a good person, underneath the fading five-hundred-dollar highlights, and she hadn’t done anything in her life to deserve being treated that way. Cody watched her in fascination as she sniffed and blew her nose loudly.

  “One day, when you grow up and come into your trust fund, promise me you’ll try to get them disinherited,” she told him, cuffing his chin.

  Her eyes were still red and puffy from her run-in with the two wicked stepsisters when she went out to join the others by the pool. But that was what big Gucci sunglasses were made for.

  * * *

  “Mara—the suntan lotion, please?” Eliza snapped, still holding out her palm.

  “Oh, sorry,” Mara said, looking up from the side of the Infinity Edge pool, where she was trying to coax Cody into the water. She was a little annoyed that both Eliza and Jacqui acted like they were getting paid to laze about and sunbathe in their skimpy bikinis. The two of them had been comatose on their lounge chairs all afternoon, hardly lifting a finger to help—even when William fell in and pretended to drown. “Psych!” he’d yelled when Mara dove in after him, still in her shorts and T-shirt. And Madison was stuffing her face, but no one had the energy to find yet another of her junk food hiding places.

  The only time the two had shown any motivation was when Kevin Perry passed through on his way to his golf game. Eliza had jumped to help William with his scuba mask, and Jacqui had assumed interest in the book Zoë seemed to be reading out loud to herself. Unfortunately, the little girl wasn’t actually reading any words, just pretending to by repeating the instructions her mother gave to their housekeeper every morning. “Make sure you alphabetize the spices in the pantry.” “When my trainer arrives, tell him to meet me in the studio.” “Please make sure you are using the environmentally safe tile cleaner I bought from Amsterdam.”

  “So how are our girls doing?” Kevin had asked, his gaze resting on Jacqui’s spectacular MTV-rocks-Cancún body, barely covered by two seashell-trimmed crochet triangles and a matching thong.

  “You missed a spot,” he said, coming over to wipe a smudge of white sunblock goop on Jacqui’s shoulders. He rubbed it in with his thumb. “There, that’s better.”

  Mara and Eliza blanched. But Jacqui didn’t flinch from his touch and returned his stare with an impudent smile of her own. With her luck, maybe she wouldn’t need to do anythin
g this summer except keep the kids’ dad’s imagination well occupied. Besides, nothing could put a damper on her blissful state. Luca had promised he would take her to the very charming and quaint Farmhouse restaurant later that evening. And it was actually just down the street in East Hampton and not an hour away.

  When Kevin departed, Jacqui and Eliza flopped down on their lounge chairs again. Mara sighed. She didn’t know what to do about her two coworkers. She expected them to be closer after William’s sunstroke accident and the night of truth, but no such luck. Jacqui was completely preoccupied with Luca, and Eliza was acting aloof and distant. So the three were only really speaking when they were dealing with the kids or complaining about the Perrys. Although there really wasn’t that much to grouse about—Anna and Kevin were hardly ever home. It wasn’t as if she had no troubles of her own. Lately Jim had been pressuring her to take a weekend off, get on the New London ferry, and get her behind back to Sturbridge.

  “Here,” Mara said, getting up and slapping Eliza’s palm with the orange bottle.

  “Thanks.”

  Eliza massaged the oil into her skin, all the while exorcising the twins’ insults from her memory. She counted herself lucky because unlike Sugar and Poppy, she didn’t freckle or burn but browned to an even golden color.

  She didn’t have their money, but at least she could do one thing they couldn’t.

  She could tan.

  eliza gives the gardener a free show

  THE SOUND OF CLIPPING SHEARS STARTLED THE GIRLS, and they all turned around to see a very cute dark-haired guy in a holey T-shirt and weathered jeans trimming the hedges. Eliza looked up questioningly, and the guy met her gaze for a second before dropping his eyes back down to his task.

  He’s checking me out, Eliza thought, a little annoyed but also a little intrigued. She stretched her legs and arched her back as she slowly rubbed her chest and bare flat stomach with SPF 4 carrot juice.

  When she turned on her back and untied the strings, she caught him looking again. Ugh. How rude. She rolled her eyes. But a minute later she peeked at him from behind her lowered Gucci wraparounds.

  Broad shoulders, blue eyes underneath that icky fishing hat. Hmmm . . . possibly even cute?

  As if she would ever be interested.

  Let him look, Eliza thought. It’s probably the highlight of his life.

  “C’mon, Cody, it’s just the kiddie pool, it’s just water, it won’t hurt you,” Mara said, trying to soothe the trembling child.

  “YES, IT WILL! HA HA HA!” William said, splashing on his baby brother as he cannonballed in.

  “Ignore him.”

  “Ah, just throw him in,” a jovial voice joked. The girls looked up to see Ryan Perry—bare chested and wearing faded jams, stretching his legs to get ready for his afternoon laps.

  “Hey, dude, are you heading over to the thing at Sunset later?” Eliza called. What was it about Ryan Perry? Eliza wondered. He was superhot, but somehow she was never interested. Maybe because she’d known him since they were babies. And seriously, could she ever even think of dating those wretched girls’ brother? She’d pass. But it didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy lording it over Jacqui and Mara that they had a somewhat more special relationship. Her being an old friend of the family and all.

  “Maybe.” Ryan nodded, but his attention was focused elsewhere. He knelt down to where Mara was wrapping Cody in a towel.

  “Hey, when do you want to get together for that long-delayed Scrabble game?” he asked.

  “What? Oh . . . sure. Anytime,” Mara said, smiling.

  “Cool.”

  They grinned at each other, and Ryan dove headfirst into the pool. Mara missed Jim, but it was hard—every time she called, he was either drunk in Andrus Field with his boys or helping customers (who happened to sound awfully young and female) at his uncle’s car dealership. And Ryan was so nice to her. If she’d let herself think about it, she’d have already realized that Ryan was nicer to her than Jim had ever been.

  “I forgot to tell you guys—Anna said we get to take the kids to the polo match next week,” Jacqui said. “She left instructions on how to get in the VIP tents.”

  At the mention of “VIP,” Eliza’s ears pricked up. “No way—you guys got a box this year?” she yelled to Ryan.

  Ryan nodded from the deep end.

  “Oh my God! But I have nothing to wear!” Eliza shrieked, sitting up and accidentally flashing the gardener in her excitement. “Oops,” she said, pulling her straps up and retying her top.

  The shears tumbled to the ground.

  Eliza blushed but resumed her poise.

  “What’s the big deal about a polo match?” Mara asked.

  “It’s the Mercedes-Benz Polo Match Championship,” Eliza said, in the tone of, “It’s the Presidential Inauguration.” “Everyone will be there. It’s like a really important weekend.”

  “Is just game, sí?” Jacqui asked, shrugging. Polo. Horses. Mallets. Big deal. Give her the World Cup any day.

  Eliza shook her head. You couldn’t really explain the Hamptons social scene—you either had it or you didn’t, and you either got it or you didn’t. And sadly, Jacqui and Mara just didn’t have it or get it. They didn’t even realize how lucky they were to be in East Hampton—they could have been stuck in Montauk, for heaven’s sake.

  “It’s not about the game. Nobody really cares who wins. It’s about the champagne in the tents. And between the third and fourth chukker everyone goes out to stomp on the divots! It’s, like, tradition. Stephanie Seymour always comes out in five-inch heels that sink into the mud! One year Prince Harry rode with one of the teams.” Eliza caught her breath, remembering how much fun she had last summer.

  “Anyway, everyone gets really dressed up. But casual. Kind of like LA.” She fretted, “But I don’t have anything new. I need to go shopping.” Eliza was itching to spend some of her hard-earned money.

  After the canceled progress meeting, the girls were given a handwritten note from Anna and three envelopes stuffed with cash ($3,334 exactly). Thanks for all the hard work. So sorry we couldn’t meet today. Giorgio couldn’t reschedule my appointment. Try not to spend it all in one place. XOXO, Anna, read the thick embossed card.

  “Mim demasiado,” Jacqui chimed. “At Daslu, I always had new outfit every week. I saw this great dress from Gucci with a snake belt in Vogue. It would look perfect with my new Alain Tondowski slides.”

  They both looked so bummed, Mara almost laughed at them. “Hey, if you guys want to go shopping, I can stay here and watch the kids.”

  “Are you sure?” Eliza yelped.

  “Fantastico!” Jacqui exclaimed. The two began gathering their towels and beach bags, delighted at this unexpected turn of events.

  “You guys taking off?” Ryan asked, pulling himself out of the pool, dripping fat drops of water on the limestone.

  “Just them,” Mara replied. “They wanted to go shopping, so I offered to stay with the kids.”

  “You should go, too. I’ll watch ’em,” Ryan offered.

  Mara was floored. “Seriously?” she asked. Shopping did sound tempting—and she was feeling kind of frumpy around those two fashion butterflies. It wouldn’t hurt to get a little something—maybe a new skirt or a pair of those big sunglasses with the Gs on the side that everyone seemed to own. Plus she could probably stop by the bank while she was in town to make a deposit.

  “Yeah, Mar, c’mon, leave them with him. He’s got nothing to do all day,” Eliza said, giddy at the prospect of an afternoon of her favorite pastime. So giddy that she almost liked the idea of Mara coming along.

  “Oh, okay. All right, but we’ll be back in, like, fifteen minutes,” Mara promised.

  Fifteen minutes? Eliza and Jacqui eyed each other. Obviously Mara had never been shopping with girls like them before.

  main street, east hampton: that’s why they invented credit cards

  THE GIRLS LINGERED OVER SARIS AND “SUMMER weight” satins at Calypso, where Jacqui
picked up another Eres bikini to add to the fifteen tangas she had already brought with her, then they hightailed it to Tracey Feith to take a look at the new sundresses, passing by Steven Stolman because Eliza wanted to check if the rainbow-colored Jelly Kellys were in. Sadly, they weren’t: they were on wait list and out of stock. At Jimmy’s the selection of beaded corset gowns took their breath away.

  Next stop: Scoop on the Beach.

  “This is my favorite!” Eliza said, walking by the racks of terry cloth Juicy tube dresses, pastel-colored Marc Jacobs camisoles and tanks, rows of candy-colored cotton minis, and shelves of James Perse baby T-shirts and shrunken Joie hooded sweaters—the unofficial Hamptons uniform.

  The store was filled with emaciated twenty- and thirty-year-old women trying on Petit Bateau T-shirts (made for French toddlers). Dueling mother and daughter tag teams abounded. Mara noticed two distinct breeds—mothers who dressed younger than their daughters in Von Dutch tank tops and terry cloth sweatpants while their daughters wore vintage Chanel jackets, and mothers who dressed exactly like their daughters, both generations in sleeveless black Lacoste dresses and espadrilles.

  “Can I help you?” Asked a bubbly salesgirl, about their age, in a T-shirt that read JUICY across the chest. “Looking for something in particular?” she asked Mara, who looked a bit hesitant, while Eliza and Jacqui went through the racks with feverish passion.

  Mara shrugged. “Not really.”

  “Just let me know if I can help you in any way!” the salesgirl chirped, and left Mara alone to wait on more savvy customers.

  Mara noticed most of the shoppers clustered around several tables stacked with folded jeans and decided to follow their lead. There were blue jeans, dark blue jeans, pin-striped jeans, colored jeans, and “dirty” jeans. Bell-bottom. Low rise. Super–low rise. Flared. Slim. Boot leg. Jeans with cargo pockets in the front, on the butt, or on the thigh. There were so many permutations of infinitesimal difference. Yet everyone around Mara was discussing which ones they already owned and which ones they still had to buy. Mara turned over a price tag. $175! For a pair of blue jeans that didn’t look too different from her own trusty Levi’s.