Broken Hearts, Fences and Other Things to Mend (31 page)

“Oh,” I said, nodding. While I was relieved it didn’t sound like

I was in trouble, I couldn’t help being a little disappointed. Stay-

ing by myself in a house this big was only fun for a day or so, and

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then it just started to feel lonely. Also, between my dad’s work

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and my focus on the Bridges, we hadn’t been able to see each

other much this summer.

“But we’ll be back after the Fourth,” my dad said, clearly try-

ing to put a cheerful spin on this. “Will you be okay here on your

own? If not, you can come with us.”

“No!” I said, more forcefully than I’d meant to. “I mean, no

thanks,” I amended, as my dad had started to look insulted. “I’d

just rather stay here. You know how I hate, um, packing.” Truth-

fully, I had no issues with packing, but didn’t want to leave things

up in the air here. Even though I hadn’t seen Hallie since the day

of babysitting, she’d sent me a text saying she heard I was sick

and hoped I was feeling better. I had gotten thrown off by the

food poisoning and hadn’t been hanging out with her as much as

I would have wanted to. And I didn’t want to fl y across the coun-

try and derail any friendship momentum that might be build-

ing. Plus, Los Angeles in the summer always seemed excessively

sunny, like the whole city was just showing off.

“I’ll be fi ne,” I assured my dad. “Really.” I gave him a confi dent

smile so that he wouldn’t try and get me a babysitter, and I told

myself it wasn’t like I was going to be technically alone, since

there were always people at Bruce’s— housekeepers and pool people

and gardeners and someone whose whole job seemed to be wash-

ing Bruce’s car the second that he returned with it. “And we’ll

hang out when you’re back, right?”

“Defi nitely,” my dad said, giving me a tired smile. “I’ll be fi n-

ished with this monstrosity by then and on to the next thing.”

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I was about to ask him what the next thing was when Bruce

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stuck his head into the room. “Paul!” he barked. “Why aren’t

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you—” He noticed me and his tone softened. “Oh, hi, Gemma.

Stop bothering your dad, okay? He has to turn around this draft

by seven.”

“We’re almost done, Bruce,” my dad said. Bruce nodded and,

though he still didn’t look convinced, left us alone again. “So,” my

dad said, turning his attention back to me, causing my guard

to go fl ying up again. “You’ve been having fun here, right, Gem?

You’ve met some kids to hang out with?”

I nodded, wondering where this was going. “Yeah,” I said

slowly. “A couple of people.”

“Anyone I know?” His tone was joking, but even so, my stom-

ach clenched.

“Um, I don’t think so,” I said. “Just a brother and sister I met

while taking the train here.”

My dad looked away and sighed, then back at me. “Look, I

want you to have a good time,” he said. “But I think we need to

talk about this.” He turned back to his laptop and punched a few

keys. I saw his credit card statement fi ll the screen and remem-

bered that I’d never told him about the bathing suit.

“Oh, right,” I said hurriedly. “I was going to talk to you about

that.”

“What is this place?” my dad asked, squinting at the screen.

“Some kind of French restaurant?”

“No,” I said. “It’s . . . um . . . I bought a bikini.”

My dad turned about three shades paler and gripped the chair

arms for support. “A bikini?” he gasped. “You spent three hun-

dred dollars on a
bikini
? Gem, I didn’t even spend that much on

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my suit when your mom and I got married.”

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Bruce stuck his head back into the room. “Paul, that’s just

sad.”

“Bruce,” my dad said, rubbing his eyes again.

“Right,” Bruce said, disappearing again— but, I had a feeling,

not going far.

“I’m really sorry,” I said all in a rush. “I should have told you.”

My dad just raised his eyebrows. “And,” I added quickly, “not

bought it in the fi rst place. Of course.”

“This card is for emergencies, kid,” he said, sounding disap-

pointed. I bit my lip, wanting to tell him that it
had
been an

emergency— but knowing that I couldn’t make him believe me

without telling him everything that had been happening this

summer.

“I know,” I said in a small voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, you’re going to have to pay me back,” he said. I nodded,

trying to do mental addition of just how many hours I’d have

to babysit to equal the cost of the bikini. “And this makes me

think . . . I don’t like the idea of you just hanging out all summer.

I think you should get a job, Gem.”

“Oh,” I said. I had nothing against getting a job; aside from

babysitting, though, I’d never had one before. “Well, can we talk

about it when you get back?”

“Great idea!” Bruce called from outside the door, his voice

muffl ed.

“To be continued,” my dad said. “But while we’re gone, look

for some options, and then we can discuss. Okay?” I nodded.

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“Good,” he said, clearly relieved that his parenting duties were

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over for the time being. He gave me a smile, then turned back to

his computer and pulled the screenplay up.

Without even realizing I was going to ask it, I blurted out,

“Dad, do you ever think about Karen Bridges? From that summer

when I was eleven?”

My dad turned his chair to face me again. Based on his ex-

pression, this had been the last thing he had been expecting me

to ask. “What made you think about her, Gem?”

I looked away and shrugged. “I don’t know . . . maybe being

back here again?” After all, it wasn’t like this was actually

untrue.

My dad took a breath, then shook his head. “That was a long

time ago,” he said, looking back at his laptop, making it clear

that he was done with this conversation. A second later, though,

almost more to himself than to me, he added, “And some things

you just can’t fi x.”

I nodded and headed for the door, but paused and turned back

before opening it. “But the things you can fi x,” I said, “you should

try, right?”

My dad looked at me for a long moment, then gave me a sad

smile. “Yes,” he fi nally said. “If there’s a chance, I think you have

to try. I think you have to do everything you can.”

I gave him a nod, then stepped into the hallway, almost crash-

ing into Bruce, who was lurking outside the door. “He’s getting

back to work,” I promised.

“Good,” Bruce said, fl ipping open his iPad cover and jabbing

at the screen. “Because if we don’t get the script in on time, it’ll

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be— oh wait, that’s not my calendar. Hold on—” A lute and a didg-

eridoo had started playing, and I had a feeling I knew exactly

what band it was.

And just like that, I had an idea for something I could do.

“Hey, Bruce,” I said, “still want me to tell you about teen stuff

for your movie?”

“Of course,” he said immediately. “Hold on, let me get the

coast on the line.” He pulled out his phone, but I jumped in be-

fore he could wake up and terrify someone in Los Angeles.

“I’m happy to help,” I said. “But I was wondering if we could

work out some kind of a trade.”

“Ah,” Bruce said, giving me an impressed look and shutting

his iPad cover. “A negotiation. Maybe we should discuss it on a

run?”

“If by a run you mean bagels,” I said with a nod, “then I’m in.”

Bruce gave me a
duh of course
look, and I smiled. “Okay,” I said as

we headed for the front door. “Here’s what I was thinking . . .”

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12:05 PM

Hey Hallie! Are you free to night?

Hallie Bridges

12:09 PM

I think so . . . why?

Me

12:10 PM

It’s a surprise. You just have to be free

from about 6 to 9.

Hallie Bridges

12:11 PM

I’m free! Just confused. Details?

Me

12:12 PM

Surprise means I can’t tell you any details!

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Pick you up at fi ve?

And wear something semiformal.

Hallie Bridges

12:14 PM

Okay, now extra confused.

But see you at fi ve, Sophie!

Me

12:15 PM

And that means semiformal for you, Hallie,

to the event we’ll be attending

this eve ning, to night. J

Hallie Bridges

12:17 PM

Okay, I deserved that ;)

Rosie looked over at me and raised her eyebrows apprecia-

tively as she folded a shirt. “That’s a favor and a half. How much

time did you have to agree to give him for this?”

I winced and picked up a pair of her heels, trying to see if

they’d fi t me. I was already dressed and ready to go, but had some

time to kill before I had to pick Hallie up, and decided to spend it

hanging out with Rosie in her room while she packed for L.A. I

was wearing another dress I’d borrowed from Gwyneth, but had

kept my own shoes this time, just to be on the safe side. “Two

hours,” I said. “With some intern in California transcribing what

I tell him about being a typical teenager.” Rosie laughed, but I

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couldn’t help feeling that maybe I’d pulled the wool over Bruce’s

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eyes in this deal. I didn’t think there were many teenagers who

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were currently going under aliases and juggling multiple identi-

ties. And if there were, I needed to fi nd them, so we could form a

support group or something.

“Well, have fun,” she said, taking the heels away from me and

dropping them in her suitcase before I could try them on.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” I sighed, fl opping back onto the

bed and watching her lightning- speed packing. Rosie traveled so

much it was practically a military operation, and a marvel to behold.

“Just a week or so,” she said as she folded a T-shirt into a tiny

square. “And when we’re back, Gwyneth and Ford should be here

too, so if we have to leave again, you won’t be all alone.”

Well, that was something. I reached for another pair of heels

to try before they got put in the suitcase, which was when I saw a

very familiar red- and- black cover. “Rosie,” I admonished as I

picked up the copy of
Once Bitten
. “Not you too.”

“It’s for work,” Rosie said, blushing maybe a tiny bit.

“Oh sure,” I said, turning the book over to look at the back.

There was no author photo, just the information that Brenda

Kriegs lived on a remote island with her family.

“It
is,
” Rosie insisted, taking the book back from me. I was

about to ask how, exactly, it was for work when Rosie straight-

ened up and cocked her head to the side. “Did you hear that?”

I looked up and listened. Sure enough, there was the sound

of tires crunching on gravel. But this really wasn’t so surprising,

as it seemed like things were constantly being delivered to the

house— scripts, packages, fl ower, bribes. “Probably just a deliv-

ery,” I said with a shrug.

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“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Rosie said, dropping the jeans

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she’d just picked up and hustling out of the room. “Bruce has

been getting food delivered, I’m sure of it.”

I didn’t disagree with her— if he had a secret candy stash in

the kitchen, I had no doubt that he was fi nding other ways to get

noncaveman food. But I didn’t see why Rosie should care. Bruce

cheated on his diets; it was just one of the universe’s facts. “So?”

I asked, following her out of the hallway and down the stairs.

“I want to catch him in the act,” she said, taking the steps

down to the foyer two at a time. “So I don’t spend the whole plane