“I love Summer, you know that.”
“And Diana loves you. And Austin loves Summer, I’m guessing. You’re like rabbits, all of you. In heat. In the spring. Just get a grip on the hormones, and I’ll mind my own business.”
Seth laughed. “You have my solemn oath that my hormones are under complete control.”
“You’re a guy, right?”
“Last time I checked.”
“Then your hormones will be under control around the time you’re six feet under.”
Seth got up to pour himself a cup of coffee. He turned to Marquez, hesitating. “You know, that counseling stuff…Summer really thinks it might be a good thing to give it a shot.”
“That,” Marquez said, shaking a finger at Seth, “would be an example of business that doesn’t need any minding from you.”
“Sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Now do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Go in there and ask Countess Dracula to hurry up with her shower. I’m not speaking to her.”
Seth grinned. “You’re afraid of her?”
“Not as long as I’m wearing a clove of garlic around my neck. You?”
“No.” Seth gazed at the door almost wistfully. “Diana’s just complicated, that’s all.”
“Calculus is complicated, Seth. Diana’s easy to understand. She’s evil. Pure and simple.”
“Well, I’m glad somebody understands her,” Seth said wearily. “I know I never will.”
Marquez nodded. “Were you…you know…ever really in love with her?”
“You think calculus is complicated?” Seth laughed sadly. “I’m still working on that one.”
16
References Available on Request
Summer checked the address she’d written on the paper. It was in an exclusive residential area, a private enclave on a sort of mini-island off the key.
When she’d called about the companion ad, a nurse had answered. The patient (as she’d referred to him) was eighteen. He’d been in a near-fatal car accident while visiting Germany. His family lived in New England, but they were renting this house in the Keys for his rehabilitation. He wanted to recover in private, away from prying eyes. He’d suffered injuries to his spine, his right leg, his face, even his vocal cords. He was partially paralyzed. He was a nice boy, quiet, not demanding like some of the nurse’s former clients. He needed someone to read to him, run errands, keep him company.
Did Summer have a résumé? Any nursing experience? Any experience, period?
Summer turned the corner onto the small road that skirted the beach. The sun was searing, the sky cloudless. She wondered if this was a waste of time. She took out the résumé in her purse, the one she’d put together the previous night. It was handwritten, since she didn’t have access to a computer, and on lined paper.
Summer Ann Smith
142 Lido Lane, Apartment 301
Coconut Key, Florida 33031
Telephone: I don’t have one yet, but the phone company says this week for sure or next week for absolute sure. My cousin’s phone is 555-8761 if you need to get in touch with me, but she’ll probably answer. Her name’s Diana.
Job Objective: Companion.
Education: Graduate of Bloomington High School, Bloomington, Minnesota.
Activities: High school honor society, three years; choir; yearbook; copy editor of The Bloomington Bugle (school newspaper).
Job History:
—Five years babysitting experience, including regular care for triplets. Played, changed diapers, made meals, supervised homework. Developed excellent supervisory skills and ability to make killer macaroni and cheese.
—One summer waiting tables, Crab ’n’ Conch, Crab Claw Key, Florida. Served patrons, worked as hostess, did side work, took inventory, did extensive cleaning. Developed public relations skills and superior upper arm strength.
Available for work: Immediately.
References: Available on request.
Summer sighed. It looked, she had to admit, pretty unimpressive. Even she wouldn’t have hired herself. And she was her own best reference.
It was her own fault for waiting till the last minute. She’d written the résumé the night before, after the beach party. She’d been worried and distracted after her big discussion with Seth and after escorting Austin back to his apartment.
Summer paused to slip off her sandals. She crossed the street and headed to the beach. She made it a policy to avoid wearing shoes whenever possible, and besides, the hot sand felt heavenly.
She passed the spot where she and Seth had talked during the party. She should have felt relieved after getting things out in the open with him. She’d thought making a clear choice would have simplified things, but after seeing Austin depressed and drunk, she’d felt awful. Maybe making a choice wasn’t the hard part. Maybe living with the aftermath was.
Did she feel this way because she’d made such a mess of things? Or because she’d come to the wrong conclusion about Seth and Austin?
She watched a group of children racing to finish a sand castle. No, Seth was her fiancé. She loved him. She owed her loyalty to him.
She wondered if it was a good sign that she had to keep repeating the same mantra over and over again, reminding herself of the reasons she and Seth belonged together.
She crossed back to the street, put her sandals on, and turned down a private dirt road. A narrow wooden bridge spanned the water that separated the key from Eden Shores, where her job interview would take place.
Seth was leaving the next day. He’d told her he’d done what he needed to do, coming back to touch base with her. He was going back to finish up his internship. Then the rest of the summer would be theirs together.
She was definitely going to discuss the college situation with him before he left. Technically she could wait; after all, she didn’t yet know if Carlson was going to accept her. But she’d learned her lesson about avoiding hard confrontations. Better to do it right away, even if her application was rejected later. He would be upset and would see it as a betrayal. But Seth would just have to understand that when it came to her education, she had to listen to her own heart.
At least she felt comfortable with this choice. She knew it was the right thing. Austin had helped her realize she’d decided against going to Carlson because she was afraid of failing there.
She would tell Seth that he could reapply to Carlson the next semester. Maybe if his grades at UW were good, Carlson would take him and they could still spend most of their college years together. But she was not going to go to UW just to make him happy or just because he hadn’t been accepted to Carlson. Not even after all that had happened between them. She couldn’t live her life trying to please Seth.
A uniformed guard in a gatehouse had to make a call before she was allowed to cross the bridge. It was her first taste of Eden Shores, a place people in Coconut Key talked about in hushed tones. Lushly lined with palms, it was home to maybe two dozen estates, huge pastel fortresses with giant windows, giant pools, giant privacy walls, and giant Dobermans standing guard. A small but exclusive yacht club claimed the south end of the islet.
It made her a little uncomfortable. She’d never really known any rich people, unless you counted Adam Merrick, the senator’s son she’d dated briefly the previous summer. He’d seemed like a perfectly normal guy—that is, if you could have two hundred bathrooms in your house and still be perfectly normal. Of course, in the end he’d turned out to be a complete dirtbag. It seemed that having money didn’t necessarily mean you also had character.
The perfectly manicured main avenue was empty save for a few gardeners sweating profusely in the wet heat. Summer checked the address again. The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, an imposing building made of peach stucco. She shook the sand out of her sandals, smoothed down her hair, and rang the bell.
The door swung open to reveal a portly butler. His few remaining strands of silver hair were combed over
his shiny bald head. His bulging gray eyes reminded Summer of a cartoon fish. He nodded gravely. “May I help you?”
“I’m here about the companion job. My name is Summer Smith. I’m sorry I’m a little early, but I walked and I wasn’t sure how long it would take, because I’ve never been here before.”
The butler indulged a smile, the corners of his lips twitching just a bit. “Come in, Ms. Smith,” he said, revealing a clipped New England accent. “You’ll be speaking with Ms. Rodriguez on the lanai.”
Summer followed him to an airy screened porch overlooking the ocean. It was furnished with white wicker rockers surrounding a rectangular lap pool. Green plants grew in abundance. Three ceiling fans moved lazily overhead.
“I assume you brought a résumé?” the butler inquired.
“Well, kind of.” Summer handed her envelope to him. “It’s pretty dorky. I mean, I don’t exactly have a lot of companion experience, unless you count, you know, just hanging out with people.”
He smiled. “Hanging out,” he repeated, as if he’d never actually tried the phrase. “I shall pass this along.” Chuckling under his breath, he left her alone.
“Excellent interview technique, Summer,” she muttered. “Impress them with your total dorkiness right up front.”
She gazed around the room, then peeked into the adjacent living room. There was something sterile about the house. It didn’t have the debris of daily life about it—magazines, letters, photos of family members, dust, confusion, and clutter. Or maybe really rich people didn’t make messes. Maybe they just had them removed by specially trained anticlutter SWAT teams.
“Ms. Smith?”
Summer spun around. A young woman, maybe just a few years older than Summer, stood in the doorway. She had short curly hair and thickly lashed eyes. She was wearing a crisp white uniform. “Oh, hi. I wasn’t snooping. Just…you know. Okay, I was snooping.”
“I’m Juanita Rodriguez. We spoke on the phone.”
Summer shook her hand. “Somehow I thought you’d be older. I mean, you’re a nurse, right?”
“LPN. Licensed Peon and Nobody. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.”
“I looked over your résumé,” Juanita said, settling into a rocker next to Summer.
“Pretty pathetic, huh?”
“Not entirely. Me, I can’t imagine tackling triplets.” She smiled coolly, eyeing Summer up and down with obvious curiosity. “Actually, Jared—he’s my patient—seemed quite impressed when I showed it to him. He asked to interview you himself.”
“Impressed?” Summer laughed.
“Go figure.” Juanita leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I just wanted to prepare you. Jared’s been going through a tough time from a rehab point of view. He’s paralyzed from the waist down, and he suffered severe lacerations to his head, neck, and right hand. He’s just now regaining the use of his vocal cords. He has to speak quietly, and you have to work to listen. It’s like talking to someone with a very hoarse voice.”
Summer nodded. “Is he still…you know…bandaged and stuff?”
“Most of his face is,” Juanita said as she counted off the details on her fingers, “plus his right hand and his neck. And his right leg’s in a cast. They need to put a new pin in his ankle soon.”
Summer winced. “He must be in a lot of pain.”
“As much emotional as physical. He’s pretty much alone here. His family pays the bills, but that’s all they do. It’s a real shame.” She blinked back tears. “The staff tries to be there for him, but I suggested a companion might be a good idea. Jared’s been reluctant to go ahead, but I finally placed the ad anyway.”
She stood, cocking her head at Summer, still sizing her up. “So. I just wanted you to know what you may be getting yourself into. By the way, it’s live-in if you want it. There’s a whole wing for the staff.”
“I have an apartment,” Summer said. “I just want a normal nine-to-five kind of job.”
Juanita shook her head. “Let me tell you something, Summer. There is nothing at all normal about this job.”
Summer watched her leave. She moved purposefully, like someone on a tight deadline. Summer had the feeling Juanita didn’t think she was up to the job.
A few moments later, as a big wheelchair slowly rolled into view, Summer wondered if maybe Juanita was right.
17
The Invisible Man
Sitting in the chair, erect, almost stiff, was a slender figure in a denim shirt. A white blanket was draped over his legs, one of which was in a cast. His right hand was wrapped in bandages nearly as thick as a boxing glove.
But it was his face—or what she could see of it—that made Summer’s stomach lurch. It was swathed in so much white gauze that only his eyes, his ears, and part of the back of his head were visible.
Like a mummy, she thought. Trapped.
Summer tried not to react. She looked him directly in the eyes, went over, and took his left hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jared,” she said. “I’m Summer Smith.”
His tight grip surprised her because he appeared so frail. He looked up at her. Staring out from the white bandages, his dark eyes were startling, like a snowman’s coal eyes.
“Summer. What a wonderful name.” His voice was like a whispering stream over gravel. He studied her hand and made a noise that might have been a laugh but sounded more like a cough. “Good upper arm strength,” he quoted from her résumé. “I like that.”
Summer smiled. “I lifted a lot of trays.”
A pause followed. He stared at her blatantly. From anyone else it would have been rude, but Summer didn’t mind—maybe because she was staring too.
“Well, I’ll leave you two,” the nurse said. “Buzz me if you need anything, Jared.”
“Thanks, Juanita.”
Juanita gave a nod to Summer. “It was nice meeting you, Summer.”
“You too.”
Jared waited until Juanita had closed the door behind her. “Juanita’s great. But very protective,” he said. “So. You live here on the key?” His voice came slow and hushed, like air hissing from a tire.
Summer nodded. “Right in Old Town. An apartment in a Victorian house.”
“Roommates?”
“My friend Marquez and my cousin Diana.”
He paused, nodding, as if this information required some time to digest.
“Family?”
She noticed he spoke briefly, as if long sentences tired him. Maybe they did. With all those tight bandages, his lips could probably barely move.
“In Minnesota. That’s where I’m from. Bloomington. The Mall of America’s there.” She rolled her eyes. She was babbling again. She always babbled when she was uncomfortable.
Jared appeared to smile, though it was hard to tell. It seemed to be less a full-fledged smile than a slight shift of the bandages surrounding his mouth.
“Boyfriend?”
Summer hesitated. “Um, yes.”
“I’m not surprised.”
She stared at her hands.
“Sorry. None of my business.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m engaged,” Summer said. “His name is Seth. I had a ring, but it’s temporarily vanished. At least I hope it’s temporary.”
Jared moved a little in his chair, wincing with the effort. He took such a long time to speak that Summer found herself trying to guess his next words.
“He’s very lucky,” he said finally.
“Well, that’s debatable,” she said with a shrug, “but thanks.”
“So. Juanita told you the duties?”
“A little bit. Running errands, reading, that sort of thing.”
“Chess?”
“Um, I don’t play, I’m afraid. But I’d love to learn. And I’m great at poker.”
“Movies?”
“I love movies. TV too.”
He was staring again. She felt a little like a painting that had just been unveiled.
“Questions?”
“Well, hours, pay, all that.”
“What hours do you want?”
“I guess like any regular job. Nine to five. Although,” she added with a smile, “if you could make it ten to six, that’d be cool. I have this tendency to oversleep.”
“Make your own hours.”
“Really? Wow. Well, okay, but I’m flexible. Like if you wanted to go down to the beach and watch the sunrise or something, I could set my alarm.” She flushed. Maybe he couldn’t leave the house. “Is that something you could do? Go outside?”
He moved his head—a nod, she thought. “We have a specially equipped van.”
“I was thinking we could just, you know, go out in the garden or maybe walk down the street. I could push your wheelchair—”
“It’s electric.”
“Oh. Well, then, maybe I could ride with you.” She laughed, then wondered again if she’d put her foot in her mouth. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not sure what to say.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said. “How’s twenty an hour to start?”
“Twenty dollars? An hour?”
“Okay, twenty-five.”
“That’s like…wow. That’s more than minimum wage by a long shot.”
“It’s not an easy job.” For the first time Jared looked away, past Summer to the blue-green waves. “Does this…disgust…?”
Summer hesitated. At first she thought he’d said “discuss.” Then she realized with a start what he meant: Did this job disgust her? Did he disgust her?
“Oh, no,” she exclaimed. “Why would you even think that? You were hurt in an accident. Why would I feel anything but…” She clutched at the air, searching for the right word. Not pity, that wasn’t right. “Why would I feel anything but compassion? It could just as easily be me in that wheelchair as you.”
“I don’t think so,” he said in a barely audible voice. He looked at her. His eyes seemed even darker. She wondered if they had tears in them. “Are you sure?”