Again, it was so exactly what had been happening—except that Isa watched nature programs, and Connie did sudoku, not the jumble—that now I laughed outright. “Okay, okay. You obviously know exactly how my summer’s working out so far.”
Noogie dropped her sunglasses over her eyes and stood up. “But that’s about to change. I guess I’m your fairy godmother. See you tonight.”
“Yep.” And she left, stopping half a dozen more times to chat with other kids and moms and friends before climbing up onto her lifeguard chair. Noogie really did seem to have almost magical properties. At least, she’d made one of my wishes come true. I’d get to leave the house tonight. Finally. Hooray.
THIRTEEN
For the first time since I’d arrived at Bly, I dipped into some of my cuter clothes, the ones I’d hung up in the closet rather than tossed into drawers. Did Little Bly kids get done up, or did they keep it basic? Jeans or the capris? Finally, I went simple, a washed-to-eggshell-blue cotton sundress with a boat neck and spaghetti straps. A dress, not dressy.
“I could always tell when Jessie’d been out late the night before.” Milo had startled me. He was slouched in my bedroom windowsill, a resigned smirk playing on his lips, like when Sean Ryan had been about to give us the results of a chem test we’d all failed.
“Really, how?” I asked, careful to keep the curiosity from my voice.
“She’d yawn and drink a dozen cups of coffee and ignore Isa.”
“Have some faith.” As I moved through to the bathroom, I rumpled his hair in a way that I hoped was just a touch condescending, and he snapped his head away, then jumped and moved toward the fireplace out of reach. “Aha, so you’re upset?”
“It won’t be any fun.”
“Let me judge that. Who knows, maybe tonight’s the night I find my soul mate.”
“Ha. Not here you won’t, Jersey Girl. Besides, I think Isa really wants you to stay and watch The Sound of Music with her.”
“She won’t suffer to watch it with Connie.” I was in the bathroom now, blotting and removing my makeup. Even a tiny amount now seemed way too New Jersey. Score one for Milo; he’d done his job dismantling my confidence.
“You sure you’re ready to handle it?” he called from my room. “Just from my impression, you seem kinda rustic for them. Not to offend you.”
Rustic? My mascara wand stopped in midair. Was that true? Or was he teasing, looking to get a rise out of me? “I’ll try not to pick my teeth with a knife. And by the way, that comment puts you deep in brat turf.”
I could hear him continuing to pace my room. My inclination was to shove him out, but instead, I finished my lashes and moved to gloss. I was debating whether I should pinch a pill for the road when the sound of the car grinding its way up the drive outside made me jump. I whipped my cardigan off the bathroom hook and scampered downstairs.
Half scared that they’d leave without me. I had cabin fever pretty bad.
Milo followed. He didn’t answer when I called out goodbye. Just thudded down the steps, nearly knocking into me in order to join Isa.
Twilight etched a silver luminescence through the trees. I stepped outside at the same moment that Aidan McNabb swung out of a sleek black Lexus convertible. A preppy vision in a golf shirt and madras shorts, he was a thicker, more freckly version of his sister.
“Hey. Jamie, right? I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said. “Glad you’re joining us tonight.” His eye roved me, appraising. I tried not to care, but I didn’t like it.
His girlfriend waved through the passenger window. “Hi, I’m Emory.” She was a stylish beauty with salon-streaked hair and matching chunky gold jewelry, so neatly presented that I kind of wished I’d run Connie’s hot iron over my sundress.
As I slid into the backseat, I saw Connie on the porch. I leaned out. “Thanks for the night off, Connie.” Ever since our dinner together, I felt like she’d taken just as many pains to avoid me as I had to stay off her grid. Obviously, those things I’d said about Peter still upset her. We’d never discussed it again.
But she was taking over my babysitting job tonight. So she couldn’t be too mad.
“Bye, Mrs. H.,” chorused Aidan and Emory. I buckled up and closed my eyes. While every particle of my being wanted to push out and away from Skylark, the prospect of this night of all new people gave me jitters. Milo’s undermining hadn’t helped any.
Oops—and I hadn’t remembered a pill. Shite. I hoped my back didn’t spasm and ruin everything.
“Old Mother Hubbard,” Aidan said. “Bet you’re glad to lose her for a while.”
“You said it.” But I didn’t want to come down too hard on Connie. I got a feeling that while the lifers made fun of her, they also liked her. Connie was what people tended to call “local color” and “a character”—which really meant that off this island, she’d be a complete social reject, but as long as she was here, she was landmark protected.
What impelled me to open my eyes just then? To twist around in my seat and look back at the house? Was it the feeling of being watched? That ancient need to confront the watcher?
I knew the kids were both down in the family room. Connie was standing out on the porch. And the figure was exactly where it had been the first time, observing everything from the third floor.
There, then gone, as we bumped down the drive and turned out onto Bush Road, though my heart continued to pound as my restless fingers discovered a pill nestled roly-poly in the corner of my dress pocket. Aha. Fantastic. At least I had that. A pill, any pill, seemed to do wonders in terms of blurring my relationship with everything, including Skylark, turning it irrelevant and shrinking it to pretty-postcard distance. Twenty minutes into almost any pill, I’d feel that numb, dozing, less “me” feeling ease my grip, giving me space to zone out and breathe easy.
But would Isa be okay? The thought hurt as it caught and lassoed me back to reality.
Of course she would. She had Connie, who had probably already taken her newspaper puzzle and her single glass of wine downstairs to settle in for a night of Julie Andrews. And I had to get out of here. Even if this one night out was a total bust, I couldn’t deal with another evening of Skylark lockdown.
“Where’s this place, the Rickrack?” I asked.
“It’s where the party’s at, darling,” said Emory, in that tone pretty girls often used—self-confident but on the boundary line of snotty.