Beach Lane - By Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,16
“it girl,” was now the help.
main beach: you can only keep eliza down for so long
THE BEACH WAS AS CROWDED AS CENTRAL PARK DURING a Dalai Lama blessing or a free White Stripes concert. The fireworks show had begun, and as rockets whizzed up to the heavens, Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony thundered from temporary overhead speakers. Stylish picnickers popping champagne corks and feasting on three-pound lobsters sat on checkered tablecloths and sent fuzzy photos via their cell phones to provide latecomers with location coordinates. Almost no one looked up. They had better things to do, like blanket-hop to exchange effusive double-cheek air kisses and discreetly check out each other’s flowered Murakami handbags.
The three au pairs secured a place on top of the hill, primo real estate, thanks to Eliza’s pushiness. She found them a postage-stamp-sized area bordered by two identical silk jacquard blankets and managed to expand their territory by letting Cody cry his lungs out as the rockets boomed. Nothing like an irritable toddler to motivate self-involved single Hamptonites to get out of the way.
Mara couldn’t help but overhear some of the chatter around them.
“How’s the black truffle ravioli?” a woman asked her guests as she handed out monogrammed china filled with plump, glistening pasta and smothered with a white cream sauce.
“Superb. And the cervelle de canut is divine with this Reisling.”
“Did someone bring the opera glasses?” another asked, motioning for a pair of binoculars.
She had never seen anyone picnic like this before. Back home, picnics meant a couple of sandwiches, a bag of chips, and a liter of soda. Not a four-course menu with a different wine accompaniment for each entrée. Wresting her eyes away from the neighboring sheets, Mara turned back to her own group.
“Madison, where did you find that candy bar?” she asked.
Madison looked up guiltily and stuffed the entire Snickers bar in her mouth for fear of having it taken away. Mara shook her head. She would have to find out where the kid hid her stash or they were all dead. She did a quick head count. One, two, three . . . That couldn’t be right. “William! Eliza, Jacqui, have you seen William?!” she asked.
The two shrugged indifferently.
“You guys stay here; I’ll try to find him,” Mara said, beginning to panic. She walked carefully around the perimeter, calling his name as softly as she could. “William?” she whispered. “William? Where are you?”
“Sorry, sorry,” she said, tiptoeing by an uproarious group of clean-cut guys in matching khaki pants and Teva sandals, puffing on cigars as they cheered the spectacle in the sky.
“No worries. Why don’t you join us?” one asked, offering her a plastic cup filled with bubbly.
“No thanks. I’m just looking for a little boy.” Mara shook her head.
“We’re all big boys here.” He winked. “C’mon, stay awhile.” He looked about twenty-two, red cheeked, and well meaning, but she wasn’t interested in older guys (even older guys with the maturity of teenagers).
“Really, I can’t. I’m working.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m an au pair.”
And with those four little words, his posture changed. He raked his eyes over her body. “Then you’ve got absolutely no excuse not to stay. It’s not like you’ve got a real job, right?”
Mara turned away without answering him, completely offended.
“WILLIAM!!” Mara began to yell in desperation, not caring if she caused a scene. The hyperactive nine-year-old finally reappeared, making airplane noises and screaming every time the rockets boomed.
“Don’t ever do that again!” Mara scolded. “You can’t just disappear like that! It’s not safe!”
“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” William screamed. “YOU’RE NOT MY MOMMY!”
“I know I’m not your mommy, but I work for your mommy.”
“No, you don’t—you work for ANNA,” William spat.
Back at the blanket, Mara recounted what the Dartmouth-undergrad-look-alike had said to her. “It was like I said ‘au pair’ but he heard ‘hooker’!”
Eliza rolled her eyes. She could have warned her about using the “a” word to describe herself. “Most of the young investment banker types around here think au pairs are easy summer lays with little or no responsibility. Stay away from them; they rent tract homes in Westhampton and are totally not worth your while,” Eliza advised.
Madison removed a Ziploc full of gummi bears from her pocket. She nudged her brother. “The other au pairs were a lot nicer.”
“Wait. What other au pairs?” Mara demanded.
“Camille, Tara, and Astrid. They were taking care of us because Nanny went back to England this summer,” Zoë piped up.
“What happened to them?” Eliza wanted to know.
“They were fired,” William said gleefully. “It