Sass & Serendipity (13 page)

“That’s our Sonny,” came Mrs. Applewhite’s voice from behind her. “Poor dear. He was my brother’s eldest child. Did you know him?”

Gabby hesitated. “No. But I … knew who he was.”

“Such a beautiful boy.” She stepped forward and lifted the photograph, shaking her head sadly.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke. The sudden somber mood seemed to thicken the air. Gabby tried to calculate whether the joy of screaming in the home of one of Barton’s most powerful residents would be worth her mother’s wrath, her sister’s hysterics, and a move to a seedy apartment.

“Please,” Mrs. Applewhite repeated, nodding toward the seating area. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Gabby decided to continue playing the part of the appropriately awestruck townsperson. “Thanks,” she said, and resumed her walk toward the parlor chair. The upholstery was so crisp and white, Gabby instinctively swiped the seat of her blue jeans before sitting down. “I brought the lease. It’s signed,” she said. She pulled an envelope out of her bag and tapped it against her knees.

“Yes. Thank you.” Mrs. Applewhite replaced Sonny’s photo and took the envelope from Gabby. “So,” she said, settling onto the curvy patterned sofa, “Prentiss tells me you work at the theater.”

Prentiss had been talking about her? “Um, yes. I do.”

“You must be very responsible. And what about your sister? What does she do?”

Gabby pursed her lips.
Let’s see, lie around daydreaming and chase brainless boys?
“She’s into cheerleading and stuff,” she said. “She’s always been more … athletic than me.”

Mrs. Applewhite nodded. “I was a cheerleader myself in high school. Seems like ages ago.” She stared dreamily up at the ceiling. “Well then. I do appreciate your family’s cooperation. The paper is such a silly formality, but our lawyer makes us do them.”

“I understand.” Knowing their son, it wasn’t hard to imagine they had a team of lawyers available at all hours of the day.

“Really, I have no doubt that everything will be fine.”

“Thanks. We”—Gabby swallowed—“we’re glad to be here.”

“I’m glad, too,” Mrs. Applewhite said with a light laugh. “If you need anything, just talk to Prentiss. Henry and I are so busy with the library fund-raiser, we aren’t home all that much. We’ve come to depend on him quite a bit. But not to worry. I’m sure you’ll find he’s very responsible and easy to deal with.”

Gabby froze her smile to prevent a grimace.

“Well then …” Mrs. Applewhite rose to her feet and gestured back toward the foyer. “Welcome to the property. We hope you like your new home.”

“Thanks,” Gabby said, following her to the front door. She felt a little rushed but also relieved that her task was done. She tried to glance back at Sonny’s picture, but Mrs. Applewhite had turned it to face the other direction when she’d set it down.

“I’m so happy we could make this happen,” Mrs. Applewhite added with a smile. “I hope things work out well for you all and that you stay for a very long time. We’ll be in touch.”

Gabby nodded and stepped back out onto the porch.

She’d wanted to actively hate Prentiss’s mom, but other than being a little erratic, she wasn’t bad to deal with. Gabby had wanted to hate the rental house, too, but it also lacked any obvious exterior flaws. Even the grounds were lovely.

There was no escape route, no excuse she could find to back out of the deal. Like it or not, she would soon be living under the raised noses of the Applewhites.

The carpet in the Applewhites’ rental house looked brand-new. It even smelled new, giving off faint chemical fumes that Gabby was fairly sure cooked their inner organs with every breath.

“Gab, look. Look how it springs back up.” Daphne dug her sneaker into the carpet for a couple of seconds and then stepped back onto the shiny kitchen linoleum. The mushed fibers gradually straightened, like seedlings stretching toward the sun, until her footprint was barely visible.

“Whup-de-do,” Gabby muttered. Only, Daphne didn’t hear her. She was already skipping off to admire the high-end dishwasher.

Gabby had to admit the place was nice—for slave quarters. Even the paint job looked professional. When Prentiss said he’d done it himself, he probably meant that he had hired people and paid them all by himself with his mommy’s credit card. She reached forward and brushed her fingers over the orange-peel texture of the dining room wall. The color
made her hungry, reminding her of key lime pie. The trim was a milky white.

“Wow. I can walk into the pantry,” came Daphne’s muffled voice from the kitchen. “It’s bigger than Mom’s closet at the other place.”

“Joy,” Gabby grumbled.

She knew she should be happy about the house and the fact that it, amazingly, cost about the same per month as the rundown hovel they’d just vacated. But somehow she wasn’t. For one thing, their furniture looked extrashabby in the Pottery-Barn-catalog setting. And it irked her how Daphne kept racing about, oohing and ahhing over every tiny detail.
The carpet stays standing! The cabinets close all the way! You don’t have to wait ten minutes for hot water to come out of the faucet!
One would think they’d been holed up in a dirt-floor shack all these years, using an outhouse and bathing in the nearby creek.

“The top one goes in the bedroom, and the big one stays here in the living room.” Mrs. Rivera stepped into the house right behind Prentiss, who was holding two large boxes in his arms. “Thank you again.”

“Not a problem, Mrs. R,” Prentiss said, carefully depositing the bottom box onto their stained, scratched coffee table. He flashed Gabby a smile before retreating into the nearby bedroom with the next box.

That was another thing—probably the worst part of all. Prentiss, for some reason, had decided to help them move in. He’d been there when they arrived that morning and made a big show of presenting each room. “This is the bathroom,”
he’d actually said at one point, gesturing to the white subway tiles, the periwinkle walls, and the (also brand-new-looking) toilet, as if they were prizes in a game show. Gabby almost bit her tongue off to keep from saying “Yeah, duh. Think we could have figured that out.”

It also bothered her that he insisted on carrying in the large boxes from the car. Yes, it was helpful and polite and all that crap, but he was touching their stuff! He was pawing her books and her big outdated computer—and he even carried in a bulging bag full of her jeans!

Thank god the men they’d rented the truck from had already unloaded the heavy furnishings the day before. Gabby would have melted with humiliation if Prentiss Applewhite had helped bring in their stained, garage-sale-bought mattresses.

Speaking of which … where the hell were the bed linens?

Prentiss walked back into the room. “I don’t think there’s much left in the car. Y’all stay and take a breather. I can get it.”

Gabby’s mom let out a happy sigh and shook her head. “Thank you, Prentiss. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Prentiss just stood there, smiling dopily, as if he expected a pat on the head and a Scooby snack. Finally, he gave a nod and ducked out the door.

“I swear that boy is a savior,” Mrs. Rivera said, staring at the air where Prentiss’s athletic frame had just been.

Gabby rolled her eyes. Lately she couldn’t understand her mom. Usually the two of them thought alike. They were the
reasonable ones in the family. The ones who saw the world as it really was. And yet during the past few days she’d sounded more like Daphne with the way she regarded Prentiss as some knight in shining armor. If Gabby believed in storybook magic the way Daffy did, she’d seriously wonder whether her mother had fallen under a powerful spell.

She supposed she should be happy that Mom was happy. The perpetual line between her mother’s brows had softened, and her eyes didn’t have that sunken look. That was a good thing. And yet Gabby refused to let her guard down and give in to the Prentiss worship. Someone had to stay on alert around him. Someone had to remember his awful past. People didn’t change—not really.

“Can you believe there are flowers out front?” Mrs. Rivera said as she stared out the living room window. “I sure hope we can keep them alive.” She reached back and grabbed Gabby’s hand, pulling her up beside her. “It’s pretty here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Gabby lied. Actually, one of the worst things about the new place was its view. If they ever got to feeling too hopeful, too cozy or prosperous, all they had to do was gaze out the front window at Applewhite Manor and their egos would automatically snap back down to their normal, scrawny size.

“Oh, my god! I love the pool!” Daphne appeared at Gabby’s side, pointing to the glimmer of blue behind the mansion. “Can you imagine being able to swim anytime you want? They must have no stress at all.”

The three of them stood there for a moment, gawking at all the opulence. Like rabble on the palace grounds.

“That reminds me,” Mrs. Rivera said, letting go of Gabby. “I need to figure out which bag contains my medicine. I really don’t want to get a migraine today.”

She headed through a nearby door into her new room. They had already agreed that the girls would take the back bedroom since it had two closets and was large enough to accommodate their twin beds, dresser, and desk, while their mom would take the smaller bedroom since it was, as she put it, “closer to the coffeepot.”

“This is the last of the big ones.” Prentiss walked back through the front door cradling a massive cardboard box marked
Miscellaneous
. “Where do y’all want me to put it?”

Gabby bit her tongue again.

“Oh, just set it down wherever,” Daphne replied.

Prentiss turned in a slow circle before carefully lowering the box onto the sofa. Gabby noticed how the muscles of his tanned arms actually rippled, just like those of heroes described in Daphne’s romance novels. Gabby had always thought it was dumb, a way to imply that a man’s power somehow matched that of running water. But there really was a wavy flow to the movement.

The rippling stopped and Gabby suddenly realized that Prentiss was looking right at her, smiling that idiotic grin of his.

“Gonna be a warm day,” Daphne said, gazing through the window at the sky. “Think you might go for a swim later?”

Oh, no
. Gabby knew exactly what her sister was up to. No way was she going to let Daphne bounce about in her bikini in front of Prentiss—invited or not. Prentiss plus deep water could equal a serious safety concern.

“Ooh, Daff, did you remember to get your prom dress out of the car?” Gabby asked in a worried voice. “It’s going to get all wrinkled.”

That did it. Daphne stretched up extratall to stare out at the Jetta, looking like a scared prairie dog. Then she pushed past Gabby and trotted out the front door.

“Y’all are welcome to come swim later,” Prentiss said.

Ah, the feudal lord extends an invitation to the poor country peasants! How charitable
. Gabby stared down at the springy carpet to keep from making a face. “That’s okay,” she said. “We have stuff to do.”

“Right. Well then …” Prentiss stretched out his arms and Gabby couldn’t help stealing a glance at his muscles. “You girls should keep this door locked. Y’all aren’t all that far from the road. And some of these windows are kind of stuck from the paint. I’ll come back and loosen them up for y’all.”

“Don’t bother. Really.”

His eternal smile faltered. Gabby knew it sounded rude, but she had to say it. She had to limit his presence. The others might be gaga over his nice-guy act, but not her. Some things could never be forgiven.

“We’re not
girls
,” she added. “We’re totally capable of moving into a place by ourselves.”

“Sure. I was just saying—”

“We appreciate your help and all, but don’t worry about us anymore. Spend the rest of your day swimming or doing whatever you do. We can take it from here.”

Again he stood staring at her with a slackjawed expression, as if he were expending every ounce of mental energy trying to process her comment. Just when Gabby thought she
was going to have to draw him a diagram, he broke off eye contact. “All right,” he said, nodding and scratching his head. His gaze wandered from the wall to the floor to the rip in the sofa’s armrest—anyplace but Gabby. “Guess I’ll head on back if y’all are all set.”

“We’re set.”

Suddenly his eyes were back on her. “You know, I really do hope y’all are happy here,” he said.

His good-ol’-boy voice was surprisingly warm and earnest. Gabby had to turn away. Why didn’t he just leave already? Did he expect a tip?

“I really don’t mind helping. So if you girls—ladies—ever need anything …” He held something out toward her, and Gabby took it without really looking at it. “Just give us a holler.”

She watched him head out the door. A second later he reappeared through the window, loping down the white gravel path to the main house.

Gabby glanced down at the object he’d given her: a thick, professionally produced business card that read
Prentiss R. Applewhite
in fancy embossed letters, followed by his cell number and email address.

“No, thank you,” she muttered.

“Aw, man. He’s gone.” Daphne came back into the house holding her plastic-draped prom dress over her shoulder. “I was hoping he’d ask us to swim.”

“I don’t think they let tenants do that,” Gabby said, quickly stashing the card in her purse before her sister noticed it and wanted it.

Daphne glanced out the window at Prentiss’s retreating form. “He’s cute.”

“I’m sure you think so.”

“Oh, come on! He’s really cute. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

“You’re right. I’m sure he thinks he’s cute, too.”

“And he’s nice. Why do you not like him?”

“Because he’s so … Paleolithic.”

Daphne let out a frustrated grunt. “You’re so negative.”

“No, I’m smart.
I’m
the only one acting sensible around here!” Gabby exclaimed, pressing her hand to her collarbone. “Someone died because of that guy, and everyone seems to be forgetting that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Sonny Hutchins. Prentiss’s cousin. Remember? Prentiss was driving.”

“Oh, yeah. I do sort of remember,” Daphne said, her eyes swiveling up toward the ceiling. “That was sad. But you’re acting like he killed someone in cold blood. It was just an accident, right?”

“It was his fault. He was drunk, and he’s obviously stupid to begin with, and he got them into a wreck.”

“You make it sound like he’s evil. You said it yourself—it was a big, stupid mistake. That’s not the same thing as being evil. He probably feels awful about it.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think he does,” Gabby said, frowning at the mansion across the yard. “He got away with it, so now everyone—including him—is acting like it never happened. Like Sonny was never even here.”

Daphne shook her head. “Only you could turn an awesome house on a rich cute guy’s property into a big grumble-fest.” She spun around and headed for their new room, holding her dress high out in front of her.

Gabby looked around. The half-filled front room seemed to be smiling at her, with its cheery paint colors and rays of sunshine streaming through the freshly cleaned windows. Once again, she pressed her fingers to the nearby wall, sliding them over the rough texture. It felt almost tickly, like goose bumps. As if the house itself were excited to have them there. And Gabby was the only thing, living or not, who was less than thrilled with the situation.

Daphne lay on her back on her bare mattress, staring at the ceiling of their new room. It was so gleaming white and spotless—like a giant piece of printer paper. Their old room’s ceiling had been covered in that bumpy acoustic spray—a popcorn ceiling, her mom had called it—and Daphne would search for pictures hidden in the texture. Throughout their years in the rental she’d managed to find a rose, a lion’s head, a sailboat, a weeping willow tree, and a poodle on a skateboard. Then there were the fleeting images she discovered that stood out so clearly at the time, only to disappear the moment she looked away, never to be seen again. Her mom had hated those ceilings and the way they trapped dirt and rained down powder if you accidentally scraped them with something like a broom handle. But Daphne found herself missing them a bit. No hidden pictures here, just a broad white canvas. A big blank.

Bored with the vast stretch of nothing, Daphne rolled onto her side and watched Gabby as she sat cross-legged on the blue, yellow, and green braided oval rug, alphabetizing their books before she set them on the shelves. She wondered if Gabby had ever seen the pictures on their old ceiling. Probably not. Gabby wasn’t the type to simply sit still and gaze about her, thinking and dreaming. She was always writing or doing complicated math or frowning down at the pages of some book thicker than a double burger. But she did seem kind of preoccupied right now, especially since she hadn’t yelled at Daphne for stopping her unpacking.