road. Nick drove into the long semicircular driveway and eventually stopped in front of a walkway leading to the front of the house. It was an imposing place. Two full floors, six white columns over twenty feet high, an opulent door whose top half was an arched, stained glass window of a white heron in flight against a blue sky filled with fleecy clouds.
Brenda looked in the back of the car where her friend was passed out. 'Look, I'd better handle this. I'll go up and talk to Mrs. Silver and explain what happened and everything. Otherwise you could be in deep shit. Sometimes she jumps to conclusions.'
By the time Brenda reached the front door to ring the bell, it had already opened. An attractive woman in a red silk blouse and a pair of chic black slacks was waiting. Nick guessed that she had probably been called by the security guard. He couldn't tell much about the conversation, but he could see that Teresa's mother was asking questions. After a couple of minutes, Brenda and the woman came back to the car. 'You didn't tell me she was still passed out,' Nick heard a surprisingly husky voice say. There was also some kind of accent, European perhaps. 'You know, Brenda, this is absolutely the last time she can go anywhere with you. You just can't control her. I'm not even sure that you try.' The voice was angry but not strident.
Nick opened his door and climbed out of the car. 'This is the guy I was telling you about, Mrs. Silver,' Brenda said. 'Without him Teresa might still be lying on the beach.'
Mrs. Silver extended her hand. Nick took it, feeling a little awkward. He didn't know how to shake hands with a woman. 'I understand that I'm in your debt, young man,' Mrs. Silver said graciously. 'Brenda tells me that you rescued Teresa from all sorts of horrors.' The light from the street lamps played about her sculptured face. Her hand was soft, sensual. Nick smelled just a trace of perfume, something exotic. Her eyes were fixed on his, unwavering, inquisitive.
'Yes, Ma'am,' Nick said clumsily. 'I mean, well, she had had too much to drink and I thought the crowd of teenagers she was with were a little bit out of control.' He stopped. She was still watching him, measuring him. He was becoming agitated and didn't understand why. 'Somebody had to help her and I just happened to be there ...' He trailed off weakly.
Mrs. Silver thanked him again and turned to Brenda. 'Your mother's expecting you, dear. We'll stay out front until you get home. Flash your lights to let us know you're there.' Brenda looked happy to be dismissed. She scampered off into the night in the direction of the nearest house about a hundred yards away.
There was a momentary pause as they watched the sixteen-year-old disappear into the night. Nick found himself stealing furtive looks at Mrs. Silver's profile. An inchoate awareness of what he was feeling made him more nervous. Jesus, she's beautiful. And young. How could she be the girl's mother? He was wrestling with a jumble of thoughts as he saw the lights flicker in the distance.
'Good,' she said, turning to Nick with a smile, 'Brenda's home. Now we can worry about Teresa.' She stopped for a moment and laughed. 'Oh, I almost forgot. We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Teresa's mother, Monica Silver.'
'I'm Nick Williams,' he said in response. Her dark eyes were fixed on him again. In the reflected light the expression in her eyes seemed to vary. One moment she was a pixie, then a seductress, then a very proper Palm Beach society woman. Or was Nick imagining it? He couldn't return her gaze anymore. He felt his cheeks flush as he averted his eyes.
'I had to carry her from the beach to the parking lot,' Nick said abruptly, as he went around to the back door of his car and opened it. The teenager had been leaning against the door and nearly fell out. She didn't stir. He picked Teresa up and threw her over his shoulder. 'So it's no problem for me to carry her for you now. I'm used to it.'
They walked quietly down the path toward the house, Monica Silver leading by a few steps. Nick watched her walk in front of him. She moved effortlessly, like a dancer, with almost perfect posture. Her dark hair was wrapped up at the back in a