Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(59)

Sometimes, Lila would complain about her college boyfriend to Parker, and Parker would be almost breathless with the coolness, the adultness of the conversation. No one talked to her like that. Her cousins had become a closed circle, and her mom was prickly this summer. And Daddy…things were different with him these days, too. Lately, he’d been distracted, less interested in hearing about school trips and grades. Her parents had been arguing a lot lately, so Parker had tried to be at her best—smart, charming, cheerful—then find something else to do. Ten going on thirty, her father liked to say, and she knew it was a compliment.

At any rate, that particular day was hot and clear, the best of a New England summer, a hearty breeze off the water and the sun baking the air. Althea had gone into Boston for the day to do some shopping; Harry was working in the house. Parker and Lila had been making sand castles on the beach, with moats and tunnels and turrets and everything, and Lila had seemed just as interested as Parker. But after an hour or so, Lila had to go to the bathroom. As long as she was in the house, she said she’d make them a snack, too. Root-beer floats, maybe. Parker would be okay on her own, right? She wouldn’t go in the water.

“Of course not,” Parker said. “I’m not an idiot. Plus, I can swim better than you.”

“I know, I know,” Lila answered fondly. “But I had to say it. Back in ten.”

Parker added some seaweed to a turret. Daddy would appreciate how much time they’d spent on this little fiefdom—she’d only recently learned that word, and she was going to use it, because he always loved when she used words that most grown-ups didn’t know. Yes. This fiefdom would win back his approval, most def. Which would be nice after yesterday.

Harry had come to her swimming lesson the day before, and they were teaching diving off the high platform. All the other kids had done it, but when it was Parker’s turn, she froze, quite unexpectedly. The water looked so far away, so shallow. How long would it take to hit the water? What if she flubbed the dive? Her legs began to shake.

“Come on, Parker,” her dad called, his voice already tinged with irritation. Even so, she couldn’t move, picturing the crack of her back as she slammed the water, sinking to the bottom, paralyzed, dying, blood floating in a cloud. Just do it, she whispered to herself. Go. Jump.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t even climb down the ladder herself. One of the teachers had to come up and go down first, his arms gripping the bars around her, his voice kind and reassuring, telling her it happened to him, too, his first time.

Didn’t matter. Her father was peeved. She’d stared out the window all the way home so he couldn’t see her tears, listening to a heated lecture on being brave, taking chances, how his valuable time had been wasted.

Well. Today was a new day. She’d make him forget her cowardice with a few smart words. He always loved that kind of thing. She sat back in the sand. Maybe, if he wasn’t irritated anymore, they might watch a movie or take a sail. Not to be disloyal to her mom, but it was always fun when Althea was away on a shopping trip. Harry traveled a lot, so time alone with him was precious.

“Fiefdom,” she said, so she wouldn’t forget.

The seaweed flag looked great. She stuck a few more seashells on the side. Perfect. A fiddler crab for the moat, and the thing was really a work of art.

However, Parker had sand in her bathing suit, and that did not feel very good. Though she wasn’t supposed to go in the water alone, she wasn’t going to sit there with a lump in her suit, either. She glanced up at the house—no sign of Lila—and went to the water’s edge. It was high tide, but the water was calm and flat. No big waves today.

She went in up to her waist and pulled out the edge of her suit. Much better. Then she went back to shore and waited a little more. The crab wasn’t happy. Would it die if she left it there? She didn’t want to kill anything. She might become a vegetarian, in fact, having recently learned where veal came from.

Where was Lila? She’d been gone so long that Parker had to pee now, too.

With a sigh—grown-ups, so irresponsible—she went up the forty-two stairs that led from the beach to Grayhurst’s backyard. Across the thick, lush carpet of grass, onto the hot slate patio, into the kitchen.

No sign of Lila.

Parker used the loo—she’d come across that word in an Agatha Christie novel, and it sounded vastly superior to bathroom or, as Althea said, little girls’ room. Another word to drop in front of her father.

Grayhurst was huge, but to Parker, it was an old friend. Her grandfather had died three years ago, but Parker would try to summon his ghost once in a while, feeling equal parts melancholy for Granddad and terror in case she succeeded. Right now, the house was quiet. Dead quiet, like in that movie Demon Seed that Lila had let her watch, where it got really quiet right before all the killing.

Feeling the abrupt need to find someone, Parker went to her father’s study. Empty. She headed upstairs. Maybe Lila was sick. Or maybe she wanted to use one of the fancier bathrooms. Besides, Parker wanted to change. Having a soggy bottom was getting yucky.

The thought dawned that maybe Lila was stealing something. They’d fired two people this year for stealing. Parker’s heart sank. The last thing she wanted was to lose Lila.

She made a deal with herself. If Lila was stealing, she’d tell her to put it back and she wouldn’t tell on her or anything.