Thirteen Orphans (20 page)
There was one odd thing about Pearl’s neighborhood, and it made up for the relative mundanity of Pearl’s house. Her next-door neighbor was not another house or even a shop. It was a museum, and not just any museum, but one set in ornate gardens that looked as if they had come directly from ancient Egypt. There were even sphinxes and gigantic statues of pharaohs.
Brenda stood in the street and gaped.
“That’s the Rosicrucian Museum,” Des said, his tone not quite hiding a ripple of laughter. “It’s more than just a museum. It’s an educational and philosophical center—and the gardens are fantastic. Pearl is associated with the museum somehow, although I’m not quite certain in what capacity.”
Riprap had come out of the house, and now he had moved around to the back of the car and was helping Hastings unload the luggage. He voiced what Brenda had been thinking.
“Even with the museum, this doesn’t seem much like a place a movie star would live, does it?”
Des reached to carry a couple of his bags. Since they’d been coming from his home, he had more luggage than either of the other two. Brenda grabbed her laptop, determined not to be useless. Des turned to the driver.
“Go ahead and take the car around, Hastings. We can manage this.” Then he returned to their conversation. “It does and it doesn’t. You’d be surprised how expensive the Rose Garden—that’s the name of this area—is. Expensive and classy. It fits Pearl perfectly. She refuses to say just how she managed to get a house on the same block as the museum, just smiles and looks enigmatic. However, I do know that her mother invested a good bit of Pearl’s early earnings in real estate. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the answer.”
“So Ms. Bright didn’t get shafted by her folks,” Riprap said. “That’s good to know. I was feeling a little uneasy about her hiring me for however long this lasts.”
“Ms. Bright’s parents,” came that lady’s voice from the top of the short flight of stone steps that led up to the front porch, “were alternately embarrassed and delighted by her success. And, unlike Americans, Chinese are very careful about money, and Jews even more so. My mother was a Hungarian Jew—a Jewess, as they used to say in the press releases that mentioned her at all, a very poetical word, I have always thought. Not only did my parents do well by me, they managed to have me do well by themselves and by my brothers as well. There were times I blamed them a little for that—being as egotistical as the next young thing, and wanting it all for myself. Now I am deeply grateful. Come in now, so you can meet Nissa and Lani.”
Brenda noticed that Pearl had not mentioned her other guest—or captive. Was he asleep? Locked up?
The truth turned out to be more prosaic, and yet slightly sinister.
“We arrived after dark, and went to great trouble to get Foster into the house without him being seen,” Pearl explained. “You should not mention him on the street, or even that there is another resident. Whoever Foster was working for certainly has missed him by now. When they start looking, our homes are among the logical places to check. I have warded my home and garden as best I can, but wards will do no good if we are careless.”
Luggage was left in the front hall while Pearl led them toward the back of the house. She paused in a formal parlor to introduce them to her two pet cats. Bonaventure, a moderately long-haired grey, and Amala, a fuzzy, pale orange, marbled tabby, blinked politely at the guests, but made no effort to get up and greet them. Brenda guessed they must be fairly jaded.
From the parlor the group looked into a formal dining room, then to a more casually furnished family room that adjoined a nice kitchen. When taken as a whole, the decor of Pearl’s house was nothing like what Brenda had subconsciously expected.
The formal rooms were done in antiques that Brenda vaguely thought were French or Italian. The family-room furnishings, which included a deep leather recliner, could have been bought at any of a dozen home decorating centers. There was nothing of the exotic as in Des’s house, none of the elaborately Oriental as in Albert Yu’s office. There was none of the flash Brenda had expected of a movie star—not even a wall adorned with signed photographs.
It was a nice home, a comfortable home, a home that—despite exquisite maintenance—showed signs of long occupancy. There were none of the little compromises that Brenda knew from her parents’ home. All that was here was good, but very much the result of one person’s taste.
What did I expect?
Brenda thought ruefully.
A bunch of clichés I would have been furious to have applied to me.
Brenda thought ruefully.
A bunch of clichés I would have been furious to have applied to me.
Brenda knew she was thinking about furniture to distract herself from the meeting she had been both dreading and anticipating for a week. She shook hands with Nissa, agreeing with the bright-eyed, fair-haired woman that they were already on their way to being friends through e-mail. She knelt and shook Lani’s shyly proffered hand, and admired the little girl’s toy cat. Through it all, she was aware of the young man who stood at the back of the room, a toy dog the match of Lani’s cat dangling from his hand.
Foster was definitely the young man from the parking garage. The eyes were the same, the black hair, although swept back in a modern ponytail, framed a face with high cheekbones and absolutely perfect lines. He watched the introductions shyly, but with a trace of innocent eagerness.
He’s been looking forward to more company,
Brenda realized with a start.
It must have been lonely for him, with Auntie Pearl barely veiling her hostility, and Riprap and Nissa taking care not to annoy their hostess.
Brenda realized with a start.
It must have been lonely for him, with Auntie Pearl barely veiling her hostility, and Riprap and Nissa taking care not to annoy their hostess.
“This is …” Pearl Bright began, her tones, previously so warm and conversational, now touched with ice.
“Foster!” Lani interrupted gleefully. “Say ‘hello,’ Foster.”
“Hello,” he said, and his voice was familiar, too, even to the slight note of indecision. Brenda remembered that same voice saying how she shouldn’t be able to see him, and the panic that had underlain the notes. For a moment, she felt sorry for him.
“Hello,” she said, and Des echoed her greeting.
They all stood staring at each other rather stupidly, a thousand questions that couldn’t be asked echoing in the air.
Then Auntie Pearl said briskly, “Let me show you your rooms. This place is bigger than it looks. I had the plumbing redone just a year ago, so everyone should be quite comfortable.”
The house was indeed bigger than it looked from the outside, but somewhat narrow. Brenda was given a room that shared a bath with the room in which Nissa and Lani were staying. Pearl’s own suite was across the hall on the same floor, but the three men were staying on the next floor up, where there were more rooms and a sitting area, all fully furnished.
Brenda dropped her bags in her room and trailed after as the group moved upstairs, wanting to see more of the house.
“Wow, Auntie Pearl. You have a lot of bedrooms for one person.”
Pearl laughed. “I actually do take on interns from time to time, and when I do I usually offer room and board as part of the package. I don’t have any this summer because I was planning on traveling. I’ve contacted a few theatrical agents I know, because we’re trying to line up a few auditions for Lani.”
She glanced at Brenda and Des, who nodded to indicate they’d heard Nissa’s cover story.
“However, other than that, I’m relatively free. I’d told most of the committees I serve on not to expect me to attend meetings in person for the next few months.”
“But Auntie Pearl,” Brenda said, “won’t we be crowding you?”
“I grew up surrounded by people,” Pearl replied, “my family, mobs of child actors, my parents’ friends. Although I like my privacy, there are times when I flourish in a crowd.”
Foster had been given a room that had its own adjoining bathroom. Des and Riprap would share a bathroom.
“I thought it made sense,” Auntie Pearl said softly, “to put Foster in a room where, in a pinch, we could keep him without undue difficulty. I have a woman who drops in to clean three days a week, but I’m going to tell her to leave the guest rooms alone for now. It shouldn’t be a problem, since she normally confines herself to the downstairs and my suite. My friends do not drop by unannounced.”
Des set his bags down. “What about your driver? Does he live on the premises?”
“Hastings rents an apartment of his own,” Pearl said, “but also has use of a sort of studio apartment in the garage. During the day, he’s usually there, because he likes to memorize his lines aloud, and his recitation drives his roommate up the wall. In any case, Hastings doesn’t have a key to the house. If we keep the back door locked …”
Everyone nodded, but Brenda wondered if she was the only one who felt uncomfortable. It just wasn’t right to be keeping someone prisoner, even if he had been a sort of assassin—a memory assassin. Was that like a character assassin?
Brenda realized she was drifting off into nonsense. The last week had been tense. She almost wished she was having a normal summer: working at her dad’s friend’s business, swimming with her friends at one of the area pools, talking about how to change the universe, and all the mistakes they would have never made if they were in charge.
Change the universe,
Brenda thought with a shiver.
That’s what’s happening. My universe is changing, and I’m changing with it
—
and being asked to take a part in the transformation.
Brenda thought with a shiver.
That’s what’s happening. My universe is changing, and I’m changing with it
—
and being asked to take a part in the transformation.
Auntie Pearl was saying, “I’ve already put towels up here, but Brenda’s are in the dryer. I wasn’t quite ready for a house party. Brenda, will you come and get those?”
“Yes, Auntie Pearl.”
She followed the older woman down to a tidy laundry room tucked off the kitchen. It smelled of warm fabric softener.
“These machines used to be in the basement,” Auntie Pearl said, “but when I had the plumbing redone, I had them moved up here. Stairs are fine for now, but the ones to the basement are particularly steep. Also, I don’t know about how stairs and I will get along ten years from now, and I hate being dependent.”
Brenda thought that Auntie Pearl had nothing to worry about. The older woman moved briskly, without the least trace of stiffness in her gait.
They went upstairs together, Brenda with her arms full of still-warm towels, Auntie Pearl with a basket of clean laundry.
“Can I help you fold those, Auntie Pearl?” Brenda asked.
“My unmentionables?” Auntie Pearl laughed. “I think not. Oh, something I have been meaning to ask. Would you mind just calling me ‘Pearl’? I have never minded the other name—it’s what Gaheris has always called me, and it seemed natural that his children would do the same—but if you’re going to be posing as my summer intern, just my name would be easier. During the drive here, I almost succeeded in convincing Riprap to stop calling me Ms. Bright. That young man has excellent manners, but they’re a bit much for California.”
“I’ll do my best … Pearl,” Brenda said, then laughed self-consciously. “What’s next?”
“Next we all rest until after dinner. Then I think Foster is going to be asked to go to his room for a while, and we will have a council. Lani should be asleep by then. Nissa usually puts her to bed no later than seven.”
“Won’t Foster be bored?”
“Possibly, but then again, he may want some time alone after being Lani’s toy for most of the day. Not surprisingly, he reads Chinese, and I’ve given him a large selection of books.”
Brenda wondered about that “not surprisingly.” There had been something in the inflection that indicated Pearl had drawn some conclusions about Foster. She thought about asking what these might be, but decided to wait until after dinner. Right now a break and a chance to call some of her girlfriends sounded better than anything.
She thought of Foster, about getting to know him better, about doing something to solve the question of who he was, why he had come after them as he did, and amended her thought.
Than almost anything. It would be better than
almost
anything.
almost
anything.
Pearl pushed her chair back from the dining-room table. Des and Riprap had collaborated in the kitchen, and the resulting dinner had been very good. Brenda had known how to make a chocolate mousse that measured quite favorably against those Pearl had eaten in some very expensive restaurants. It had been a fit end to a fine meal.
When Nissa had taken Lani up to bed, Foster had obediently gone to his own room. He and Pearl were developing an odd relationship, this despite Pearl’s desire to have no relationship at all with him. Certainly, the fact that she had been the only one other than himself who spoke Chinese had something to do with it. However, she thought Foster might be developing some version of that syndrome she’d heard hostages went through—the one where they started identifying with their captors.
Now that Des had arrived, there would be someone else who could talk to the boy in his own language, a man at that. Pearl hoped this would give her some relief from interacting with Foster. She knew she was being unfair, but Foster reminded her so much of her father that she kept expecting to see Foster’s slightly vague expression of fear and wonderment change into her father’s scowl of disappointment, an expression that no achievement on Pearl’s part—neither as an actress, nor as a sorceress—had ever erased from her father’s face.
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