Rules of Summer, Page 2

  Rory crouched down to pet her. “She’s adorable,” she said as Trixie began to lick her hand. “Is she a Maltese?”

  “Maltipoo. Or cockapoo. Something poo. Okay, Trixie!” she ordered. “Go back to your place!”

  The dog jumped slightly and then trotted back to her bed at the end of the hall.

  “My mom still won’t let us get a dog,” Rory said.

  “Because she keeps dating them,” Fee said, rolling her eyes. “Come on. You’re down here.” She began to walk toward the end of the hall. Fee walked with purpose, swinging her arms. Rory could already tell that Fee felt at home here.

  “So how big is the staff here?” she asked.

  “Well, there’s me, Eduardo the chef, and Bianca the house manager,” Fee said, as they passed a laundry room. “We’re the live-ins. Then there’s the help that comes in.”

  “Comes in?” Rory asked.

  “Laura the masseuse, Siddha the yoga teacher, and Frederika, who does Mrs. Rule’s hair. Steve, the tennis pro. And then there are the people they hire to come in and serve for parties. Like tonight.” They finally stopped at a closed door. “So this is where you’ll be staying,” Fee said, opening the door.

  Rory caught her breath. The room was easily three times the size of her bedroom at home and a hundred times more stylized. The king-size bed was covered with a creamy-white duvet and a pile of blue-and-white bed pillows edged in lace. A vintage nautical map of eastern Long Island hung above the latticework headboard. The nightstands, also painted cream, held a stack of the latest hardcover novels wedged beside crystal lamps. The other furniture—a curved-leg desk, a stool, and a pair of tufted club chairs—were also cream-colored, while the walls were painted the softest shade of blue. And across from the bed, nestled inside a shabby-chic white armoire, was a sleek flat-screen TV. “This is my room?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course,” said Fee, ignoring Rory’s surprise. “And the bathroom is in here.”

  Fee dropped Rory’s duffel bag on the velvet bench at the foot of the bed and led the way into the bathroom. Rory gaped. The glass steam shower had a wide marble bench inside, big enough for her to fall asleep on if she wanted to. The sunken marble tub had a silver faucet that curved up and over like the neck of a swan.

  “And there are plenty of products if you forgot anything,” Fee said, opening the drawers under the sink to reveal a tidy row of shampoos and conditioners.

  “This is beautiful,” Rory said as they walked back into the bedroom. “Why have you never talked about how nice it is here?”

  Fee shrugged. “After a while, you get used to it,” she said, glancing around the room. “Some people work in an office. I work here.”

  Rory smiled. For years, her mom had felt sorry for Aunt Fee. “At least I’m not a housekeeper,” she’d say whenever one of her checks bounced or the county cut off their heat. But here was Aunt Fee, living in the midst of all this luxury and beauty. If only her mom could see this, Rory thought. She’d never say anything like that again.

  “So, let’s get into it,” said Fee, unzipping Rory’s duffel bag. “Is she still working at that salon?”

  “Most of the time, yeah.”

  “And the new boyfriend? Is he really twenty-one?”

  “That’s what he says.”

  “And he’s moving in?”

  “They always do.”

  Fee shook her head. “Your father must be thrilled.”

  “It’s not like we really talk about it when I go to his house for Thanksgiving,” Rory said, taking out a heap of folded T-shirts. “He and Sharon are having a third kid, by the way.”

  “I wonder if your mom ever regrets what she did,” Fee said. “Driving away a good man like that. At least you still get to see him.”

  Just barely, Rory thought. No matter how hard she worked in school, no matter how diligently she returned his e-mails and phone calls, her dad seemed to see her the same way he saw her mother: a flake that was best kept at a distance.

  “You know, I’m proud of you,” Fee said, smoothing the wrinkles out of an unpacked dress. “You could be just like her. Chasing boys, staying out all night. She’d probably love it if you turned out like that, just so she’d have some company. But you’re a hard worker.” Her eyes were full of pride as she looked at Rory. “Smart. Disciplined. You’re too independent to get involved with boys.”

  Was that the word for it? Rory wondered. Her friends said other things. Afraid. Closed off. Too sensitive. Sophie had the best term for it: relationship-averse.

  “Thanks,” she said, dumping the T-shirts in the middle drawer of the dresser. “So, what can I do first?”

  “Yes, let’s put you to work,” said a voice, and Rory whirled around.

  A small woman with a sharp face and piercing eyes stood in the doorway. Silver hair fell past her narrow shoulders, and she was so thin that the belt on her silk wrap dress looked like it had been pulled around her waist at least three times.

  “Rory, this is the house manager,” Fee said. “Bianca Vellum. Bianca, this is Rory. My niece.”

  “Oh,” Rory said, hoping she didn’t look too startled. “Hi.”

  Bianca stepped into the room. “Welcome,” she said, approaching Rory. She shook Rory’s hand slowly, regally. “I hope you had a good trip?”

  “Yes. It was very easy.”

  “I always prefer taking the jitney rather than the train,” she said, “but to each his own.” She smiled faintly and patted one of the bed pillows in a proprietary way. “How do you like your room?”

  “Oh, it’s incredible,” Rory said. “I mean, it’s the nicest room I’ve ever seen.”

  Bianca smiled. “Good. And getting back to your question, about what you could do first, I’m wondering if you have any experience with serving?”

  “Serving?” Rory glanced at Fee. “Like, at the table?”

  “Bianca, she just got here,” Fee said. “I really don’t think that—”

  “The person we hired for tonight just canceled,” Bianca cut in, as if Fee weren’t even speaking. “Can’t say I’m that surprised. Things get worse every summer. So I’m wondering if you might be able to step in for them.”

  “But the plan was for her to run errands—” Fee attempted.

  “The plan was for her to step in when we needed her,” Bianca said crisply. She turned to Rory with her eyebrows raised, waiting. “So… do you have experience?”

  “Well, I’ve waitressed,” Rory said. “At a pizza place. Mario’s. I’m sure I can pick it up.”

  “Wonderful. We can give you some pointers.” She stepped closer on her ballet flats. “And you should know that this is the first time we’ve had family of staff here for the summer.” Bianca didn’t blink.

  “Oh?” Rory said.

  “But Mrs. Rule is a very generous employer. And when I told her that we could use an extra pair of hands around here, to run errands, pick people up from the train, do the shopping… well, she thought it was a terrific idea.”

  “And when I asked her if Rory could stay,” Fee said, “she really thought that it was a terrific idea.”

  Bianca shot Fee a look. So they don’t get along, Rory thought. Great.

  “Why don’t you unpack and Fee can get you situated?” Bianca said. “I’ll have Eduardo make you a little lunch, and then I can give you a tour. Anything you don’t eat?”

  “No. I eat everything.”

  Bianca’s eyes flicked up and down Rory’s body. “Yes, I’m sure you do. I’ll see you soon.” She glided out of the room and closed the door.

  “Don’t pay any attention to her,” Fee said before Rory could say anything. “She just likes to intimidate people.”

  “She doesn’t want me here, does she?”

  Fee put her hands on her waist. “I have seniority over her. So it doesn’t matter.”

  Rory thought for a moment. Then she headed straight out the door. “Uh, Ms. Vellum?” she called out to the empty hall. “Ms. Vellum?
”

  A swinging door opened, and Bianca stepped into the hall.

  “I just want you to know that you can count on me a hundred percent,” Rory said. “With whatever—serving at a dinner party or running errands, anything you need. I just wanted you to know that.”

  “Very good,” Bianca said.

  “And I am very, very happy to be here,” Rory went on, as Fee came to stand by her side. “I know that this is a big deal to be a guest here for the summer, and I just want you to know how much I appreciate it.”

  Before Bianca could reply, a girl’s voice called down from upstairs. “Has anyone seen my Calypso dre-ess? The white one with the silk be-elt?”

  Rory noticed Bianca and Fee look past her at a back staircase Rory hadn’t noticed. A moment later, heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs.

  “Anyone?” called the voice. “Fee-eee?”

  A girl appeared on the landing, and with one glimpse of her straight blond hair, large blue eyes, and long, tan legs, Rory knew that this was the queen of the Hamptons herself. The girl stared at Rory as if she were some kind of alien species and then tossed a curtain of blond hair insouciantly over her shoulder. “Who’s this?” she asked, playing with a gold charm bracelet around her right wrist.

  “Isabel, this is Rory,” Fee said. “My niece. The one we told you about. She’s going to be staying with us for the summer.”

  Isabel looked at Rory blankly. “Right,” she said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  “Rory, this is Isabel,” Fee said. “You two are the same age.”

  Rory wanted to cringe. “Hi,” she said, and raised her hand in a slight wave.

  Isabel rubbed the inside of her calf with her bare foot. She didn’t smile or speak.

  “And I have your dress,” Fee said. “I’ll bring it up when I’ve pressed it.”

  “Okay,” she said, turning back to Fee. “I just couldn’t find it.”

  “Don’t you want to say hello to Rory?” Fee asked, in a voice that wavered between sweet and demanding. “I think it would be nice if you welcomed her. Seeing as you’re the first she’s met of the family.”

  Rory cringed once more. Something about this girl made her want to crawl back to her room.

  “Welcome,” Isabel said with a sarcastic smile. She ran a hand through her hair. “Ten bucks you’re gonna wish you’d stayed at home.” Then she stomped up the steps, leaving the three of them standing in silence. A door shut upstairs.

  “She’s just a little shy,” Fee said.

  Rory didn’t say anything.

  “I need to speak to Eduardo,” Bianca said, as if nothing had happened. “We’ll have lunch for you soon.” She pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen, leaving Fee and Rory alone in the hall.

  “She doesn’t seem shy,” Rory said.

  “She’s also spoiled,” Fee said, steering Rory back to her room with an arm around her shoulders. “Someone else you shouldn’t take personally.”

  “And Bianca?” she asked in a low voice. “What’s the excuse there?”

  “She worked for Oprah for six months. Now she thinks she knows everything.” She stayed on the threshold as Rory walked back into her bedroom. “Really. Don’t worry about anything. It’s going to be wonderful.”

  “Okay,” Rory said, looking reluctantly back at her bag.

  “I need to bring up that dress,” Fee said. “If you need me, just use the intercom system on the phone. And my room is downstairs, off the rec room. But I’ll be back. Don’t you worry. Just make yourself at home.”

  “All right.”

  Fee closed the door.

  Rory looked around at the bed, at the overstuffed chairs in the corner, at the walk-in closet. For the next ten weeks, this room would be hers. She pulled out her phone and took a picture of it. My room!, she wrote in a text, then sent the photo to Sophie and Trish. She hoped that didn’t seem like bragging. But there was no way she was not going to share this with them.

  She sat on the bed, feeling the duvet cover collapse softly under her weight. She felt a pang for her friends. They were nothing like that girl upstairs. She’d been so cold, so snobby. Had she done the right thing, coming here? She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. A soft breeze came through the open window, and in the distance, she could hear the roll of the waves. Yes, she thought. This place was beautiful. She’d totally done the right thing. This was going to be an adventure. She’d just stay away from Isabel Rule. Which couldn’t be that hard in a house this size.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Here comes Tatiana,” said Thayer Quinlan, as blasé as ever, as she twirled a lock of brown hair underneath her wide-brimmed hat. “Poor thing. I hear Link’s cheating on her.”

  “Really?” Darwin whispered, craning her head to get a view of Tatiana on the patio. Her freckles were already getting red. “With who?”

  “Kearcy McBride,” Thayer mouthed, just before she placed a forkful of Cobb salad into her mouth.

  “With Kearcy?” Darwin gasped. “But she has back fat. And bad hair.”

  Thayer gave Darwin a shrug, as if this were one of the world’s great mysteries.

  “Well, at least Tat looks thin,” Darwin grumbled, going back to her piece of lettuce topped with hearts of palm. “That’s one thing she’s got going for her.”

  Isabel watched Tatiana Gould gamely make her way across the Georgica Club patio, past the barbed-wire smiles of young moms and society matrons sitting under the green-and-white-striped umbrellas. Last summer, Tatiana Amory had been the golden girl of the Georgica. Actually, every summer, Tatiana Amory had been the golden girl of the Georgica. As the longtime girlfriend of Link Gould, who was hot and funny and always on the verge of leaving Tatiana for one of the many women who threw themselves at him, she was the subject of envy and admiration. Tatiana’s power over Link was legendary. Isabel had to admit, the girl had a gift. Every time Link claimed that he was feeling “trapped,” or they would “take a break,” she’d make sure to show up at Crown or the Lion with a gorgeous Brazilian model from her dad’s fashion line, and Link would be on his knees. But he held out forever. When he finally proposed after six years of breaking up and getting back together, the members of the Georgica rejoiced. All of the Upper East Side was in a frenzy. Town & Country made her its cover girl, a team of French seamstresses made the dress, and her parents threw the happy couple an engagement party at the Cosmopolitan Club.

  Now, Tatiana walked bravely past the tables, aviators shielding her face. She had to know that people were talking about her. It was the Georgica patio, after all. But Isabel didn’t feel that sorry for her. If she’d been the one married to Link Gould, she would have never let him get away.

  “Let’s talk to her,” Thayer whispered.

  “Oh no,” said Darwin. “Don’t call her over here—”

  “Tatiana!” Thayer called out, waving. “Heeeyyy!”

  Tatiana smiled and floated over to them. “Hey, guys,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “Isn’t this just a gorgeous day?” Darwin asked.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty nice,” Tatiana said, dismissing Darwin with one sentence. People did that to Darwin a lot. “Hey, Isabel. How was California?”

  “Great,” she said.

  “I have some cousins in Montecito. I’ll introduce you. They’re wonderful.”

  They spoke briefly about other people they had in common, the merits of Roberta Freymann beachwear over Tory Burch, and then Tatiana moved off into the sunshine, and Isabel counted, One… two… three…

  “So at their wedding?” Thayer said eagerly under her breath, pushing aside her plate. “Supposedly they only had sunblock and flip-flops in the welcome bags. And my mom spent, like, a thousand dollars on her airfare to Tulum.”

  “Are you serious?” asked Darwin. “That is so tacky.”

  “What did she want in the bag?” Isabel said, unable to stop herself. “A hundred-dollar bill?”

  Thayer looked at
her. “No,” she said. “Where’d that come from?”

  “Just kidding,” Isabel said.

  Thayer and Darwin exchanged a confused glance for a moment and then went back to eating.

  Isabel pushed a slice of tomato around her plate. The old saying that rich people never talked about money was so wrong. Rich people talked about money all the time.

  “So did you guys hear that the Knoxes are back?” Darwin asked. “I heard he’s this huge Hollywood producer now. Maybe he’ll cast me in his next blockbuster.” Darwin’s future stardom as an actress was not a matter of if but when, at least according to Darwin. Her profile picture on Facebook, which she changed weekly, always featured her looking seductively into the camera, her reddish-gold hair falling over one eye. “Hey,” she said to Isabel. “Weren’t they really good friends with your family back in the day?”

  “Who?” Isabel asked.

  “The Knoxes. Hello.” Darwin rolled her eyes.

  “I guess so. I was just a baby. I barely remember.” An uneasiness settled over her, but she pushed it away. “But I’m sure he’ll assume you’re the next Natalie Portman.”

  Darwin smiled wistfully at the thought.

  “So what’s going on tonight?” Isabel asked. “Please tell me something decent is happening.”

  Thayer and Darwin exchanged a knowing glance. “Aston’s having a party,” Thayer said. “And he wanted me to make sure to invite you.”

  Isabel stared back at Thayer’s shrewd brown eyes. Thayer would never be a beautiful girl, but she’d gotten prettier this past year. The nose job had helped.

  “I think I’ll pass,” Isabel said.

  “Have some mercy on the guy and go,” Darwin urged. “You’re the whole reason he’s throwing it. He’s been waiting a year to see you again.”

  “The least you can do after breaking his heart is go to his stupid party to win you back,” Thayer added.

  “A, it’s not like I wanted to break his heart,” Isabel said. “And B, I don’t think I owe him anything.”

  “Just tell us why you broke up with him,” Darwin said. “I never did get it.”

  “Why not?” Isabel asked.