The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,94
they sent me away to one boarding school after another, but I kept managing to get kicked out.”
“Why?” I asked, finding it hard to imagine.
“Let’s just say, I always got into a lot of trouble. I suppose I was acting up… But it was inconvenient for mother’s social life so father got stuck with me in the summers.”
He spoke bitterly, making little quotation marks with his fingers. Cruz took his hand, his warm brown eyes full of sympathy, “At least your dad wanted you around.”
Brad just gave him a look full of amused cynicism. It was clear he thought Cruz was being naive, “Yeah… uh huh. I’m a real chip off the old block.”
Cruz brightened, turning to address me, “Evie gets in today! I hope you and Ethan are coming to dinner tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure,” I said, but I was already planning to skip her little soiree. I was hoping that Olivia would just go home so I could sit Evie down and tell her what I suspected.
“Well, I wouldn’t miss it for the world! Evie’s flying a famous sushi chef in from Japan, just to cater it!”
I shrugged noncommittally, “Can I see your sketchbook?” I asked Cruz, reaching for it. I flipped through the pages, truly surprised by his continued growth as an artist. He’d designed and illustrated an entire year’s worth of collections. There were detailed drawings of sophisticated winter coats juxtaposed with flowing summery resort wear. Outfits both casual and businesslike were sketched out in the most intricate detail; he had a unique take on everything from skimpy swimsuits to lush, romantic ballgowns.
“Wow!” I exclaimed, “You’ve been busy!”
Brad jumped in to proudly tell me how Cruz had been turning out a prodigious amount of samples from his new workshop. He gushed about Cruz’s talent, telling me he thought it was time for him to start lining up financial backers to debut his own line.
“I’m just getting started at school,” Cruz said hesitantly, “I wouldn’t want to jump the gun and blow it.”
“Listen to your intuition,” I smiled reassuringly, “You’ll know when the time is right.” I looked up at the massive bank of fog that was rolling in towards us. You could feel a chill descend as the swirling edges drew near.
“We better get going,” said Cruz, following my eyes.
We changed out of our suits and packed up our gear as the breeze began to pick up. Brad scrambled up the precipitous trail while I attached our bags and boards to the rope for him to haul up.
“Just hold onto the rope,” I advised him sternly, surprised when he scrambled up almost as quickly as Brad had. I turned to see the fog had now completely overtaken the little cove, bringing a damp rush of briny sea air along with it.
I took my time climbing up, and when I got to the top I found that Brad had already loaded our gear into his Woodie. We all climbed in, glad to be out of the chill.
“I should get this back into the garage before my father gets back,” said Brad, driving down the gravel road. “I don’t really want to deal with him today.”
He turned onto a paved road that went alongside the highway, and turned again onto a long driveway, heavily lined with trees. The fog’s misty gloom made it look eerie, and the skin on my arms tingled with gooseflesh.
We broke out of the trees, pulling onto a large circular driveway, illuminated by the long afternoon rays of the sun, and bathed in swirling eddies of fog. Brad pulled up to a keypad mounted on a post and punched in some numbers, and I could see a metal gate that led to an underground garage slowly roll open.
Something about the paving on the driveway looked familiar, and I glanced up to see the multiple chimneys of the big house looming in the fog. My heart nearly stopped when I suddenly realized where we were, and before I could react we began our descent into the parking garage. I clawed at my seatbelt, turning frantically to see the gate slowly roll closed, trapping us inside.
I was shaking violently when the car came to a stop. The last time I’d stepped out into this garage it was from the back of a van, and I had been handcuffed to Lorelei.
I was back at the Edwards mansion.
CHAPTER TWENTYTWO
TRUTH HURTS
Brad pulled the wagon into a parking spot, stopping with a jolt.