Page 56

“That way, whenever you look into a mirror, you’ll think of me, Mother,” Ryder said. He smiled and turned to me. “She’ll be thinking of me almost all day.”

“Ryder, you’re not funny,” she snapped. She turned sharply to me. “You must have quite the thick skin to be friends with him,” she said, and then smiled the smile that surely put her in the top ten. “I love your hair.”

“Thank you.”

We heard footsteps from the left. I took a deep breath. If there was such tension between Ryder and his mother, what would there be between him and his father?

“Bonjour, bonjour,” he cried, walking with a spry step. As Jessica would say if she were beside me, Bradley Garfield was “drop-dead gorgeous.” I had seen a number of movie stars from a distance and a few close up, but never in one’s own home. I had always thought Donald was a handsome man, but he was right when he told me that Bradley Garfield had an indescribable cinematic quality. It was like watching an actor walk off the screen.

He wore a white sport jacket and black slacks with a turquoise shirt, the collar slightly up and the shirt’s top two buttons unfastened. Except for a wedding ring and a gold and diamond pinkie ring, he wore no other jewelry. His watch looked just as expensive as hers. Maybe the count had given them both presents.

“So, who do we have here?” he asked.

“Whom,” Ryder corrected.

I saw a flash of anger in Bradley Garfield’s eyes before he smiled and corrected himself. “My son the scholar. And you are?”

“I’m Sasha,” I said, stepping forward. He smiled the smile that sent thousands of girls pressing their thighs together and hyperventilating. He took my hand and looked at Ryder.

“Well, this is the top of a skyscraper up from the last few girls you brought home for us to meet.”

Ryder looked away.

“We didn’t know he was having company today,” he told me. “Or we would have—”

“Baked a cake,” Ryder finished for him. “Ma mère has already told her.”

“Oh. Okay. I do hope we’ll see you again, Sasha, when we can spend a little more time with you.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Shall we go, my dear?” he asked his wife. “I don’t want Summer leaving the house, Ryder,” she told him.

“We’re not leaving the house, Mother. Sasha came to spend some time here.”

“Good. Martha’s preparing one of your favorite dinners, lobster fra diavolo. I wish we could stay.”

“You could,” Ryder said.

“Yes, well, it’s not that easy. We’ll be back before eleven,” she said. “So long, Sasha. See if you can civilize my son a little for us.”

“Call me if there’s any problem,” his mother told him.

Ryder kept his gaze on the floor. I could feel the agitation in his body. The tightness in his neck and his mouth and the way he clenched his fists actually frightened me. His mother brushed his cheek with what was more like an air kiss, and then she and his father walked out. It was as if air returned. Ryder relaxed and shrugged.

“Good ol’ Mom and Dad,” he said. “C’mon, I’ll show you my room first, and then we can look at the rest of it.”

“Where’s Summer?”

“Locked in her closet by now. She usually comes home and goes right on the phone or the computer. When we came here, my parents assigned her the bedroom closest to theirs. It was a symbolic move to impress her with how much more they’ll care about her, but the truth is, nothing much has changed, except I’ve been given more responsibility. It’s like I’m the one being punished for the things she did.”

“She is your sister.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he said. “I’ve demanded DNA confirmation.”

We walked down the tile hallway. There was beautiful statuary in niches all along the way. His bedroom was the first on the left. He was right. It was barely a third of the size of mine but by any measure still quite large. His bed was a beautiful hardwood headboard and frame, an Italian style with a pecan veneer. It had matching dressers and an armoire. Even his desk matched. The other side of the suite was cluttered with model planes and cars.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding,” I said, looking at them.