Sass & Serendipity (12 page)

Prentiss, meanwhile, stood awkwardly in the corner of the living room. His smile was back, but it was tighter, more forced-looking. Gabby wondered if he’d ever been inside a poor person’s home before. She was suddenly hyperaware of their grizzled carpet, the mildewy smell that permeated the place, and the old Jetta with the hail dings in the driveway. Her jaw clenched and her lips pursed into her tilde mouth. How dare he judge them.

“Please, have a seat,” her mother said, gesturing to the sofa with the ripped armrest and saggy middle cushion. “I’ll just be a second while I go get the things.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Prentiss nodded in her direction and settled into the corner of the couch, next to the good armrest and close to Gabby. His eyes kept passing over her, as if he was checking to see where she was without overtly staring.

“Here we are!” her mom sang out as she breezed back into the room. Her hands were cupped together and held aloft. As soon as she reached the coffee table she set the contents down in front of Prentiss.

Gabby sucked in her breath. “Grandma’s jewelry?” she asked, her voice screechy.

Mom’s smile washed away, just like Prentiss’s had a moment
earlier, and her features drooped guiltily. “Honey, don’t overreact.”

“But those were Grandma’s. They’re heirlooms. Our family history!”

Her mother gave Prentiss an uncomfortable glance. “Gabby, honey, you know what the situation is. It’s not like I
want
to sell them. But we have to move and—”

“I’ll get another job!” Gabby could see Prentiss backing into the couch, his eyes as wide as the knit coasters on the table in front of him. She knew they were embarrassing themselves in front of town royalty, but she didn’t care. Those items were the most precious things they owned—the
only
precious things they owned. It wasn’t right that they should go to the richest family in the county, no matter how desperate things might seem. Besides, they’d belonged to Grandma. They held memories. If Prentiss didn’t even value his cousin’s life, how could he value the Rivera family’s treasures?

“Be reasonable, honey. There’s no way you can take on more work than you already have,” her mom said.

“Then make Daphne work for a change. She’ll get a job and I’ll make Pinkwater give me a raise and Dad will—”

“Enough!” Mrs. Rivera shouted. She snuck another fleeting look at Prentiss and angled her body away from him. “Darling, please,” she said, her voice lower and shakier. “We’re overdue on bills and we need a place to live and we have no money for a deposit—not even for a cruddy apartment in Sagebrush. Just accept it. Don’t make this harder than it already is for me.”

Gabby was about to make another plea when she was interrupted again. This time by Prentiss.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but did y’all say you needed a place to live?”

“Yes,” her mother replied at the same time Gabby said “No.”

“This is a private matter,” Gabby said through her teeth. God, how dense could he be? Why didn’t he just get a clue and leave already?

“It’s just that … well … my parents are looking for some tenants to stay on our property … and I thought perhaps y’all might consider living there?” He met Gabby’s eyes and grinned.

For a moment no one said anything. Gabby was too busy screaming inside the safety of her head. She couldn’t believe Prentiss had the gall to butt in like that. Who did he think he was? And how delusional could he get? Anyone with a conscience would refuse to live on his property, knowing what he had done. Mansion or not.

She glanced over at her mother, ready to exchange a fleeting can-you-believe-this-guy? expression. To her horror, she found her mother smiling at him.

“You mean … you have a house available for rent?” she asked him.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s not much. A two-bedroom guesthouse. But it’s built well and has new paint. I’ve been fixing it up myself these past few weeks.” He flashed Gabby another smirky grin and puffed up slightly, as if he expected applause.

Gabby could feel panic rising inside her. Surely her mother wasn’t seriously considering this offer, especially knowing who it was coming from.

Thankfully, her mother’s smile was gone and her usual
worry lines had reappeared on her forehead. “The thing is … I’m not sure we could afford it,” her mom said. “I’ve been looking around and … well … rates have really gone up.”

Prentiss leaned sideways and pulled something out of his back pocket, a folded piece of paper. He opened it up and handed it to Mrs. Rivera.

“This is the ad I wrote out. Only I haven’t had a chance to post it yet. I don’t know how much other people are charging, but ours might be more reasonable. And we could work something out as far as a deposit is concerned. We aren’t looking to make money; we know times are tough. We just want good people.”

“Oh, my. It’s … You … I think we could actually manage this,” her mother stammered, holding the paper tightly in both hands. She shook her head slightly, still staring down at the ad as if scared to take her eyes off of it. Eventually she looked up and proceeded to gaze at Prentiss as if he were some magical being. A young, strapping Santa Claus. “How could we apply for this?”

Prentiss smiled and held up a cell phone. “Just let me call my mom,” he replied. “Excuse me,” he said to Gabby as he stood and edged past her. Then he stepped out the front door to the concrete stoop.

“Mom, no!” Gabby said as soon as he’d shut the door behind him. “Shouldn’t you ask me what I think? This does affect me, too, you know. And Daphne.”

“But honey, it’s not like there’s a choice. There isn’t anyplace else we can go. Not in this town.”

“But … it’s the Applewhites!” Gabby whisper-yelled.
“Surely you’ve heard about them. About Prentiss and all the trouble he caused!”

“Those things happened a long time ago. Besides, you know I don’t pay any mind to town gossip.”

Obviously the strain had gotten to her mother and she was in serious denial. Gabby decided to switch tactics. “But we’d be on their property. It’ll be like living in slave quarters!”

“Don’t be silly. It’s just a rental agreement. Anyway, I’ve had the chance to speak with Rebecca Applewhite a few times. She’s not the snob you might think she’d be.”

“But we haven’t even seen the place yet. What if it’s … bad?” By now Gabby’s voice had petered into a small whine. She hated losing debates, and it was clear she was going to lose this one.

Her mom gave her a knowing look. “Sweetie, like I said, there’s nothing else available. Look …” She reached out and pushed a lock of hair off of Gabby’s face. “I know where you are coming from. You are cautious, and you know I like that. And you are so proud. That’s wonderful, too. But don’t let your pride overtake your common sense. It’s either this or I have to sell Grandma’s jewelry so we can nab a cramped apartment in Sagebrush. What do you think we should do?”

Gabby let out a sigh and stared down at the spotted, smelly carpet. Carpet they would very soon leave behind. The whole thing was unfair. It was wrong that they endured constant stress while Prentiss got away with murder—literally. It was wrong that they had to make tough choices like this when people like Prentiss got everything. It was wrong that they
had to work so hard when people like Prentiss got to cruise around town in expensive cars, pausing only occasionally to slap paint on a wall of their
extra
house.

Good god, what kind of shape must that place be in if
he
fixed it up? Gabby would probably end up missing this awful carpet.

“Fine,” she said, meeting her mom’s eye and trying to look calm. “Whatever.”

Just then the door opened and Prentiss stepped in. He wore a phony-looking blank expression, but his eyes were practically dancing, giving him away.

“Well …,” he began, letting out a weary sigh, “you’re in! Mom wants to know if you can move at the start of the month.” He grinned gigantically, obviously pleased with himself.

“Oh! Oh, thank you!” Mrs. Rivera threw her arms around Prentiss. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” Prentiss replied, grinning at Gabby over her mom’s shoulder. “I just hope y’all are happy there.”

Gabby didn’t smile back. She was far too frustrated, not to mention a wee bit queasy.

Her mom let go of Prentiss and gazed up at him with tears in her eyes. “Oh, excuse me. I was just a little overcome. You have no idea what a burden this has been. You’re saving us.”

“Glad to help. Oh, and by the way … Mom’s going to pass on the jewelry.”

Mrs. Rivera cast him a grateful look. “I understand. Oh, my my my! I still can’t believe it! Gabby, dear. Go tell your sister the good news.”

“Fine.” Gabby headed for the hallway, grateful for an excuse to get away.

She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Had Prentiss Applewhite really shown up at their house and convinced her mom that they should basically live with him? Was she actually going to have to sleep only yards away from the person she hated most in the world?

She really had to call Mule for an emergency vent session before her head exploded, staining the stupid carpet even more.

Daphne lay in bed, listening to the mixed rhythms of crickets and frogs and Gabby’s loud breathing. The digital alarm clock read 2:27, but still she couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t the noise. She was used to all that. It was even worse during allergy season, since that was when Gabby did some serious snoring. Her sister used to deny it until five years ago when Daphne snuck their dad’s old tape recorder under her bed one night. The next morning Daphne came out to breakfast and played the evidence. “Gabby snoring, part one,” came Daphne’s whispered voice, followed by Gabby’s snorts and wheezes. Gabby had been furious, and of course Mom had taken her side and lectured for a full ten minutes on the importance of privacy. But Dad had laughed about it all day.

No, it wasn’t all the night sounds keeping her awake. It was a feeling. A restlessness, as if her chest were packed tight with those trick snakes that spring out of fake peanut canisters. She couldn’t help believing that something monumental had happened that day. Things had been going so well with
Luke, and then suddenly she’d heard about Lynette’s flirting and had a close call with moving, all in the same day! It was as if the universe was testing her. As if Fate was letting her know that their love had to go through a few trials before everlasting happiness could set in—like with Jane Eyre and Rochester, Odysseus and Penelope, or … Spider-Man and Mary Jane.

She wondered where Luke was right now and what he was doing. Probably he was in bed. She pictured him lying shirtless among twisted sheets, and a warm, trembly sensation came over her.

Maybe he was awake and thinking of her, too. If only she could somehow connect with him, send him messages from afar.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on him. His shaggy brown locks … his dimples … his eyes like those aqua-colored rocks at the bottom of aquariums …

Luke!
she called out silently.
Luke, can you hear me?

She waited for a sound or a feeling, some sort of sign that he’d heard. But all that came back to her were crickets. And frogs. And her sister’s steady breathing.

She tried again, this time squeezing her eyes closed so tightly that a roaring sound filled her head. The act seemed to tap into a dormant power within her. Surely this way she could hurtle her message across the miles and into his waiting mind.
Luke!
she cried telepathically along with the roar.
Luke, it’s me!

It seemed to Daphne that a vague warmth stole over her right after she transmitted the message. Could that be him?
Maybe he heard but didn’t know how to answer. He probably didn’t know about the eye-squeezing method.

Luke! Close your eyes tight and think of me!

She waited, but nothing came back to her. Maybe only she could transmit and only he could receive. Maybe he didn’t even know Daphne was behind it—he just got the messages and assumed they were his own thoughts.

Ask Daphne to prom!
she sent out.
Ask her next time you see her!

A loud noise sounded nearby, and Daphne’s eyes snapped open.

It was only Gabby letting out a snore, but it had sounded exactly like a scoff. She glanced over at her sister and studied the rhythmic rise and fall of her Astros T-shirt. The girl was definitely asleep, and yet Daphne still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being ridiculed. If not by Gabby, then perhaps by Fate, who had already toyed with her so much that day.

Suddenly she felt stupid. What was she doing, lying in bed trying to broadcast secret messages to Luke across town? It was silly and useless, and it was starting to bring on a headache. If Gabby knew, she’d hurt herself laughing.

Even the delicious jitters were completely gone, jolted right out of her. Now Daphne just felt chilly and ashamed. And very, very tired.

The important thing was that she’d get to stay in Barton, close to Luke. And she was willing to go through whatever trials she had to endure to get him. Just like she’d narrowly escaped the move, she would prevail against Lynette. Because
if there was one thing Daphne had learned from all the fairy tales and romance novels, it was that true love could overcome absolutely anything.

Focusing on that thought, Daphne slipped her pillow out from underneath her head and curled around it, letting all the familiar noises shush her to sleep.

Daphne peered over the shiny surface of her bowling ball, lining up her trajectory. Her first roll had resulted in a four-ten split, and she hoped to convert by knocking that four at just the right angle.

Just like on all her prior turns, she was more than a little aware that Luke had the perfect view of her backside. And just like on all her previous turns, she couldn’t hold her concentration. Her hand released too quickly and she narrowly missed her mark, knocking over only the four pin.

“Nice,” she heard Luke say. She spun around and grinned at him. “You almost got them all. That was close.”

He looked so cute today. Instead of the usual nicely pressed polo he wore a simple green T-shirt with his jeans. It showed off his shoulders and arms and turned his eyes the color of weathered copper.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I love that skip you do right before you release the ball.”

A simmering sensation crept up Daphne’s face. She loved
that he used the word “love.” In so many ways, this was the perfect day. Her hair had behaved for a change. She’d found the perfect outfit to wear (a short-sleeved-sweater-and-skirt ensemble—to complement the oxford-style bowling shoes). She’d even managed to nab her favorite bowling ball, a sleek ten-pounder the same color as rose quartz.

And now he said he loved her form. Could it be code? Was he really saying he loved
her
?

“I love that you only picked up one point,” said Walt Lively as he recorded her score.

That was the only bad part about the day. For some reason, Luke had assumed that their bowling excursion would be a team event and showed up with Walt and Todd in tow. Daphne had thought it was pretty much understood that this would be a date—a continuation of their soda counter meet-up—but perhaps that hadn’t been made clear during their cell conversation. And being a guy, he no doubt believed that all sports-related outings involved a multitude of players.

Oh well. At least she got to spend the afternoon with him before things got crazy with the move. And at least he’d chosen her for his team.

“You’re up, Carothers,” Walt said to Todd.

Todd sauntered to the front of their lane, swung back his right arm, and sent his ball spiraling down the hardwood. Nine pins flew in different directions on impact. He easily picked up the tenth on his next try.

“Yesss!” he said, pumping his arm victoriously. “That’s the game. Read it and weep.” He gestured to the TV screen above
their lane, where a cartoon rabbit was bouncing around in celebration of his score.

“Let’s hit the road and find ourselves some burgers,” Walt said. He turned and headed for the nearby shelf to replace his ball. Todd followed, still swaggering victoriously.

Daphne felt horribly let down, and not because they’d lost. It was the same panic she experienced at the end of one of her dad’s visits—the feeling that she hadn’t spent the time wisely enough and the fear that she might never get to see him again. She’d rehearsed all kinds of clever and charming things to say to Luke, many of them designed to steer the conversation toward the subject of prom. But with Walt and Todd there, most of the talk centered on basketball and the new tires Walt had put on his pickup truck.

“Can you come eat with us?” Luke asked.

“Um …” Daphne coiled a lock of hair around her index finger. She wanted so badly to say yes. So what if her mom had only let her come after Daphne had promised to be back in two hours ready to do more packing? This was more important. This was her future. But if she didn’t get home on time, her mother would freak out and ground her. Then she’d never be able to meet Luke. In fact, she probably wouldn’t be allowed to go to prom at all.

“I can’t. Sorry,” she said. “I’d love to, but my mom needs me to do stuff, ’cause we’re moving and all.” She bit her lip and studied his reaction.

Luke nodded solemnly. “I get it. Maybe next time?”

She smiled weakly. “Sure.” For some reason the panic didn’t
subside. She’d been expecting so much from the afternoon—a date to the prom, an invitation for a real date, something that would nudge their relationship into a higher gear. No matter how often she told herself that someone as gentlemanly and old-fashioned as Luke wouldn’t want to rush things, she couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. Prom was rapidly approaching. Lynette seemed extra-smirky toward her. And who knew what else Fate might throw in their path? How could they weather these storms if they were still at a polite, forehead-kissing stage?

For some reason she felt as if she might cry, just a little. She was that disappointed. Before he could notice the wetness in her eyes she said, “I better get my shoes,” and headed for the check-in area, returning her pretty rose-colored ball along the way.

By the time she reclaimed her pink Converse sneakers, she’d managed to wipe away a couple of renegade tears and sniff until her normal breathing returned. Maybe she was being stupid. It wasn’t as though Luke lived in another town—thank god. And even if Lynette was hovering about like some trampy bird of prey, at least he hadn’t hooked up with her. So why couldn’t Daphne have more faith?

Daphne filled her lungs with muggy, hot-dog-scented air and checked her eyes for any residual moisture. Then she headed back toward their lane. Since all the seats and benches were full of people, she sat down on the floor next to the ball shelf to put her shoes back on.

“You and Rivera, huh?” came Walt’s voice.

At first she didn’t know who he was talking to. Then she
realized he was standing with Luke on the other side of the shelf.

She paused midtie to listen. But if Luke said anything in reply, she couldn’t hear it.

“So … are you guys …?” Walt went on.

“No. She’s cool,” Luke said. His voice sounded different than it usually did—at least when he spoke to her. It was higher in pitch, and the words tumbled out on top of each other. “We’re just … getting to know each other better, you know?”

“I hear you, man. But really, you shouldn’t waste your time. That girl’s a major prude. She never goes to parties and she never puts out. You’ll see.”

Daphne held her breath, waiting for Luke’s response, but suddenly Todd’s booming voice cut in.

“I am the Thunder Alley thunder cat. Next time, we play for money!” he said. “Now let’s get out of these dork shoes.”

His voice trailed off and she could hear the squeaks of their rubber-soled shoes as they walked away.

That girl’s a major prude
. A shaky feeling spread through Daphne’s limbs. She knew—she had always known—that that was how the guys in Barton felt about her. And yet it still hurt to hear Walt say it aloud, as if he were some sort of expert on her. Which he wasn’t.

Daphne yanked up on her shoelaces so hard, she wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d snapped right off her sneakers. Walt didn’t know her—not really. No one did … except Luke. He wasn’t like all those other guys, who only cared about sex. Instead, he felt real love. He understood the magic
of holding hands and staring at sunsets. He knew how to take things slowly, to savor every moment as it happened.

It suddenly occurred to her that
this
could be one of Fate’s harsh trials: seeing whether she could withstand Luke’s courting her at a nineteenth-century pace. Of course! That had to be it.

She glanced over at the front counter, where Luke was retrieving his green-and-white-striped basketball shoes, and smiled to herself. She could endure this. She’d always wanted her handsome prince, and she’d finally found him. Now she just needed to stop blaming him for acting princely.

She could wait, just like all those women whose lovers were sent off to war. She could be patient and strong and martyrlike. And then, when Luke finally took their relationship to the next level, it would be that much sweeter.

It would be epic.

Daphne had it so easy. She could whine and stomp and sniffle and get to do whatever she wanted, all the time.

It was only days until the dreaded move, and Gabby couldn’t help thinking of this time as a long pause or an ellipsis—or a stay on death row before execution. And most of it was being spent packing, cleaning, and working at the theater. So here it was, one of the few hours Gabby had open, and what did she get to do? Deliver the signed rental agreement to the snooty Applewhites.

She understood that her mom couldn’t do it. Gabby had already dropped her off at Anderson’s Hardware so she could get a few necessary home repair items and maybe track down
some more empty boxes. But since when had bowling become a priority? It was as though Daphne was taking advantage of their mother’s distracted state to get her way.

Feeling that it would be presumptuous to take a spot in the carport, Gabby parked the Jetta on a worn grassy area and climbed out into the warm, rose-scented air. The estate was at least two acres, probably more, and she had to stand in the middle of the curved gravel driveway just to fully take in the surroundings.

Next to the covered parking area stood what was most likely the rental home, a tidy yellow cottage with white shutters and a railed-in front porch. It seemed nice enough, but Gabby refused to like it. Besides, who knew what it was like on the inside? It could be full of radon and termites and the ghosts of murdered tenants.

She abruptly turned away and headed for the main house, a beautifully maintained white Victorian with a wraparound front porch, transom windows, and so many staggered roofs, it reminded her of a tiered wedding cake. Gabby hated it on sight. She hated the way it sat so smugly on the hill, looking down on everything around it. She hated the way the scroll-ornamented eaves of the gables hung down over the windows, giving them a heavily lidded, haughty appearance. But mostly she hated it because Prentiss lived there, all safe and spoiled.

In fact, the house was just like him—striking, but in a way that made those who beheld it feel inferior.

Gabby blew out her breath and trudged up the drive, turning onto a paved walkway. Meanwhile, the majestic
home loomed in the distance like the Death Star. It was so big, in fact, that it took longer to make it to the front door than she had anticipated. The place was much larger up close. Even the hedges were taller than she was. She felt like a trespassing bug.

She rang the doorbell and stepped back—either to allow a respectful distance or because she half expected a giant to step out. Several seconds passed and no one replied. So she rang again. Then a third time.

Finally the door opened and a woman stood on the threshold. She was tall and slender, with Prentiss’s light blue eyes and blond hair cut in a sassy bob.

“Mrs. Applewhite?” Gabby guessed.

The woman nodded. “Are you Gabriella?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry if you had to ring several times.” She glanced down at a diamond-studded wristwatch. “You’re a little late.”

“Um, yes. Well, we only have one car and …” Gabby stopped. No reason to tell their life story. “Sorry about that.”

Mrs. Applewhite smiled and genuine-looking warmth crept into her face. “No matter. Please come in.” She stepped back, pulling the door with her, and Gabby crossed into the hardwood foyer. A wooden staircase sat at the rear and a chandelier hung over their heads. Double doors stood on either side, one pair hanging open.

“Prentiss was expecting you, but he had to go run an errand,” she went on. “Typically he answers the door. Our quarters are in the back part of the house, and sometimes we can’t hear the bell. But he’s usually in the den”—she gestured to an
elaborate living room off to her right, faintly visible through the open, curtained doors—“and his bedroom is close by”—she pointed above her—“so we’ve come to rely on him to greet visitors.”

Quarters?
A house so big you couldn’t hear the doorbell from certain rooms? Gabby was suddenly all too aware of her clearance-rack clothes and worn tennis shoes.

“Please, won’t you come sit down?” Mrs. Applewhite made a sweeping gesture toward the living room, and Gabby automatically obeyed.

The room was big—almost as large as their current two-bedroom bungalow—and although it wasn’t exactly opulent, it was tastefully furnished with Asian rugs and antique furniture. Gabby headed for a linen-covered parlor chair and suddenly halted.

There, staring back at her from the mahogany sofa console, was an eight-by-ten photo of Sonny.

Something wedged in Gabby’s throat, trapping her breath and sending wetness into the corners of her eyes. She’d forgotten the connection. It seemed strange, since that was why she’d opposed the rental agreement in the first place, but lately she’d been so consumed with tasks and family hassles. Besides, she hadn’t expected to see Sonny’s picture on display. One would think it would be especially hard for the Applewhites to see his face, considering their own son was responsible for his death—not to mention that they’d taken advantage of rumors in a desperate PR attempt to clear his name. Did these people have no shame? Or did they exist in constant denial?

She studied Sonny’s smiling face, frozen in the polished
silver frame. He looked so young. Fifteen. She was older than him now.