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  Laurie’s cell phone rang with a piercing shrill. “Laurie here! Anna, hi! Yes, they’ve made it! No, I didn’t see an invitation from Calvin Klein yet. Oh, okay. I’ll try.” She shut the phone off and told the au pairs, “Anna says hi!”

  She led them to the kitchen, an airy, light-filled rustic wood room with shiny marble countertops and no visible appliances. Laurie breathlessly explained that the cabinets were cut from original floorboards salvaged from an eighteenth-century French chateau. To keep the serenity of the line, the refrigerator, freezer, and dishwasher had been recessed and built into the antique cabinets. Oh. My. God. Mara kept having to remind herself to close her gaping mouth.

  The kitchen led to a formal dining room that could easily seat thirty. An immense baroque chandelier hung from the double-height space. Next to it was a second dining room for everyday meals and a breakfast room with a “cozy” nook. The first floor also had an indoor lap pool, a yoga studio, and a fully equipped Nautilus gym. The billiards room was a by-the-book re-creation of King George’s library, complete with a first edition Shakespeare folio underneath a locked glass case. Laurie caressed the glass as if it were her own treasure.

  On their way to the back exit they bumped into Ryan, who was holding a book and climbing up the stairs. “How’d you like the renovation?” he asked. “The house certainly didn’t look like this last year,” he added a little wistfully.

  “It’s very nice,” Mara said politely.

  Ryan winked. “Laurie, don’t forget to tell them about the mirror in the bathroom. It’s an exact reproduction of Marie Antoinette’s!” he added with mock enthusiasm.

  The girls’ expectations shot up after Laurie told them the house contained several guest bedrooms. Now, that was more like it. Eliza hoped she would get the same room she was given when she visited last summer while their house was being fumigated. But the preternaturally perky assistant led them outside, all the way to the servants’ quarters—a small, tidy cottage a good five-minute walk away, where they were deposited in a small room on the topmost landing.

  It couldn’t have been more different from the main house. The attic bedroom consisted of a bunk bed, one single bed, two bureaus, a ratty armchair, one bathroom, and a lone lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

  A spider made its way across the grimy carpet, the lone occupant to welcome them to their new home.

  don’t worry, girls, this is a partnership

  “TWENTY THOUSAND SQUARE FEET AND ALL THREE OF US have to share one godforsaken room?” Eliza griped, smoking out of the tiny attic window.

  Mara kept silent, unpacking her suitcase. Since Eliza had taken the single bed and Jacqui the top bunk, she had been left with the claustro-inducing bottom bunk, but she wasn’t going to complain. She was still flabbergasted by the size of the estate. (Twelve acres, Anna’s assistant had told them in a hushed tone.) Mara didn’t realize real people actually lived this way—that marble bathrooms the size of her whole house weren’t just something you could find in an episode of The Fabulous Life Of . . . on VH-1 or something out of an It’s Good to Be . . . special on E! As far as she could tell, the Perrys weren’t famous, but they were sure loaded.

  “Eh.” Jacqui shrugged. “What can we do? Is not like we have choice,” she said, borrowing Eliza’s cigarette to light her own.

  “Could you guys not smoke in here?” Mara asked, waving her hands in dismay.

  Eliza blew a smoke ring in response.

  A rap on the door caused the two girls to stub out their cigarettes on the soles of their shoes. Eliza kicked the butts under the bed. “Come in!” she said brightly.

  A maid in a black-and-white uniform peeked into the room. “Mrs. Perry calling. Follow me, pliss.”

  The three of them were led to the backyard, a stunning expanse of greenery that surrounded an Olympic-sized pool that flowed into a small waterfall, emptying into a bubbling Jacuzzi tub. Mara spied tennis courts in the distance, a putting green, and a basketball court. Back home in Sturbridge, their backyard was a sliver of brown, fenced in on each side by chicken wire. There were several chairs rotting from too many winters left outdoors and an ancient hibachi sat squat by a dying maple tree.

  Several kids were chasing each other with Super Soakers on the patio, and a little boy with water wings was running between everyone’s legs, screaming. In the middle of the chaos stood a slim, frosted blonde in a metallic gold bikini and stiletto mules.

  “Cody! Stop making that noise! Stop it! Let go of my leg . . . let go of my leg!” She wrenched his tiny baby hands from a bronzed calf the size of a chicken wing. “Ugh.” The woman grimaced in distaste. She straightened up, only to be met by a nine-year-old boy wielding a loaded water gun.

  “GOTCHA!” The kid squealed.

  “William! Don’t even think about it!” she threatened.

  It was no use. He pulled the trigger, sending a powerful blast of water at her head.

  “JESUS! Did you take your meds today! DID YOU? LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” she said, taking him by his thin shoulders and shaking the bejesus out of him. He started to bawl.

  “Okay. Okay. Fine. I didn’t mean it. Scoot,” she said, shooing him away.

  She turned to the three teenagers, wiping dripping wet bangs away from her face. “I’m Anna Perry, sorry about all this,” she said grandly. She shook Mara’s and Jacqui’s hand with a limp shake, but when she turned to Eliza, her countenance mellowed. “Oh! Eliza, darling! You made it. Wonderful!” she said, giving Eliza her cheek to kiss. “How’s your mother? Do tell her I said hi. Did she get the books I sent?”

  Eliza gritted her teeth and smiled. “Yes, she did, Anna.” Thinking she had been “helpful,” Anna had sent Eliza’s mother several books in The Idiots Guide to . . . series (Wine, Housekeeping, Getting a Job after Fifty, etc.). The attached card had read: Now that you don’t have a staff, here’s something I hope can help you out as you transition into your new life.

  “I’m so glad you all made it. I was a little worried about the traffic. Anyway, as you know, my husband, Kevin, hired you. Oh, thank God, here he is now.”

  The girls turned to see a hefty, bald man in an immaculately pressed Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts making his way toward them.

  “Kevin, did you manage to remember to send over the bottle of Petrus as a hostess present? Yes? Okay, good. How much was it?”

  He told her. She winced. Making her way into the good graces of the grand hostesses of the Hamptons was costing them an arm and a leg, but Anna was determined to chair the big ovarian cancer benefit next month.

  “Kevin Perry,” he said. He shook each of their hands warmly, lingering just a hair too long with Jacqui’s handshake. Typical, thought Jacqui. But maybe this could come in handy.

  “How’s your dad?” he asked Eliza.

  “Same.” Eliza shrugged.

  “Why don’t we sit over here?” Kevin said, motioning to the round patio table. Anna followed him, teetering on her heels and almost slipping on the wet tile. The girls took their seats. If any of them cared to look down, they might have noticed that each and every single screw in the teak veranda had been hand-turned to a precise ninety-degree angle, orthogonal to the direction of the boards. A simple but telling detail on the stringent perfectionism the Perrys expected from everything, and everyone, around them.

  “We want to formally welcome you girls to the Hamptons,” Anna began crisply. “As you can imagine, we have a very busy night ahead of us. I thought we’d just have a little barbecue for the kids since it’s the Fourth of July. We usually do something more elaborate, but we’ve been invited to a party at the Perelmans’ later.” She paused so they could let that name sink in—they were hanging out with Ron Perelman! The Revlon mogul married to Ellen Barkin—the tippy top of the Hampton A-list! Unfortunately, Mara and Jacqui had never heard of him, and Eliza couldn’t care less about Ron Perelman—he didn’t have any kids her age.

  “So tonight we’ll do just a simple affair—nothing too fa
ncy.” Anna laughed. “Just a few burgers, maybe some hot dogs. Don’t you think?”

  “Oh, definitely.” Kevin nodded.

  “There’s a grill out back, and we could even do some seared tuna, maybe? There’s an avocado salad in the fridge that might go nicely with that. Or is tuna not patriotic?” she asked with a little laugh.

  “Tuna sounds good,” Eliza ventured.

  “It’s Pacific ahi, just came off the plane in Hawaii,” Anna told her. “Delicious. Maybe with a little mirin sauce? Like we did last year?” Last Fourth of July the Perrys hosted a catered, white-glove party on their private beach to celebrate the holiday. Eliza remembered the succulent tuna steak served on silver platters.

  “Sure.” Eliza shrugged. “Maybe with some white wine?”

  “A perfect menu. Except, of course, the kids can’t have alcohol. And this will be a lot more intimate.” Anna smiled without showing any teeth. “Anyway, enough about the barbecue. It’s at seven since the kids aren’t allowed food after sunset.”

  “Honey? Can we get back to business, please?” Kevin asked.

  “Of course, of course,” Anna said.

  “We just want to stress that this is a partnership. You’re part of the family now. Call us Anna and Kevin, please,” he said. “We see this as an opportunity for the kids to have a good time this summer. I think we’re all going to have a little fun, aren’t we?” he said, winking at Jacqui.

  “But of course, we have some goals in mind,” Anna continued. “First off, there’s William. He’s been diagnosed with ADHD. He can’t keep still for a moment and keeps forgetting to take his meds. He must calm down this summer. He’s got to learn how to sit still or they’re not taking him back at St. Bernard’s in the fall.” She passed a list of daily prescriptions.

  Mara stared at the list, mystified. A nine-year-old on drugs?

  Eliza was unfazed. William’s regime was longer and more complicated than the heart medicine her father took every day, sure, but that was modern parenting for you. And with that thought, her eyes glazed over. What should she wear to the party later?

  Jacqui was getting impatient. When could she begin the search for Luca? This blond insect should stop yapping already.

  “Next, Madison must lose weight. As I see it, she’s carrying about fifteen more pounds than she should. Kids can be so cruel, and I don’t want any daughter of mine to be ‘the fat one.’ ” She didn’t make the quotation mark sign with her hands, but they could hear it clearly in her tone. “I’ve put her on an eight-hundred-calorie diet.” She handed out a detailed folder with nutritional charts and calorie serving information. “I’d really prefer if she only ate raw foods. It truly helped my digestion, and it’s a very healthy way to live.” She suddenly craned her neck, like a dog on the trail of a bad scent, and hollered toward the pool. “MADISON! Put that cookie down! Put it down! Do you want to be a piggy your whole life?”

  Raw food? Mara wondered. What the hell?

  The Christian Dior halter? Eliza mused. Or the Gucci tank top?

  Water, I need water, Jacqui wheezed. All that whiskey in the car was giving her a premature hangover.

  “Zoë is six and is starting first grade in the fall. I want her to learn to read this summer. We sent her to the best kindergarten and pre-K and she still can’t do her ABCs. It’s so embarrassing.” Anna shook her head.

  Six years old. Reading. Got it, Mara thought.

  Or maybe the Dolce mini? Eliza wondered.

  Jacqui was starting to feel faint from dehydration. She gripped the edge of her seat to keep herself upright.

  “And as for Cody . . .” Anna’s visage softened slightly. “The baby has got to conquer his fear of water. I mean, we’re in the Hamptons . . . and he won’t even go in the pool!

  “What else? Oh. House rules. Curfew is midnight. It’s the same for the twins. Ryan you’ve met. You can drive any car that’s not being used, and you’ll need to, to get into town and take Zoë and Madison to ballet and yoga and William to his three therapists. Every Sunday we’ll all sit down for a weekly progress meeting. You’ll be paid in three installments, the first is in a few weeks. Other than that, we don’t really have a lot of rules here.”

  Well, that was good to know, thought Mara.

  Thank God, thought Eliza.

  Water, thought Jacqui.

  “Lastly, I absolutely insist that you girls have a great summer with us. Like we said in the ad—this is going to be the summer of your life! Please make yourselves at home, and we’ll see you later at the barbecue?”

  “Sounds like fun,” Mara said.

  “We’ll be there,” Eliza assured Anna. Seared tuna, avocado salad? She was famished!

  Jacqui nodded.

  “Ciao,” Anna said with a wave of her hand. They were dismissed.

  “Uh—honey . . .,” Kevin Perry said.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t you think they should meet the kids?”

  where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire

  “SO WHAT DID YOU THINK OF MOMZILLA?” ELIZA asked when they were back in their rooms.

  “Problema. Women like that at my store. Dios mio. Never satisfied,” Jacqui prophesied.

  “How do you know them?” Mara asked.

  “Long story.” Eliza shrugged. What business was it of theirs? “My dad went to college with Kevin. He called asking if I was available for the summer. I’m only doing this as a favor. I know these kids. Absolute terrors. My advice? Stay as far away from them as possible.”

  Well, that wasn’t really practical, Mara thought, since they were hired to take care of them.

  “Anna’s a total witch, too. She’s his second wife. Cody—the three-year-old—is the only one that’s hers. The others are Brigitte’s. She was crazy. Anna was Kevin’s personal assistant. She was having an affair with him for years,” Eliza said as she checked herself out in the mirror. White halter top, sequin-embellished miniskirt, white sandals with satin ties that laced up the calf—yes, that would work for tonight. Jacqui pulled on a pair of low-waisted jeans and a tube top. Mara changed out of her stinky poly-blend blouse for a T-shirt, shorts, and sneakers.

  Second wife. Stepkids. Personal assistants. Affairs. It was too much for Mara. Had she walked into some whacked-out soap opera? She was still wondering how she was going to heat Madison’s food to only “100 degrees Fahrenheit so as not to spoil its natural essence.”

  At sunset the three walked toward the pool, where the smell of gasoline hung heavy in the air. Packs of hamburger meat, hot dogs, and sesame buns were stacked next to an open, smoking grill. Finding no one around, the three girls sat around the table, which had been set for dinner with a white linen tablecloth, sterling silver cutlery, and porcelain plates.

  “She said seven, right?” Eliza asked.

  “Yeah,” Mara said, feeling a little apprehensive. Something was wrong here.

  Jacqui got up. “Where do you think the wine is?” she asked, poking in the Igloo cooler she found near the pots of citronella candles.

  Suddenly all four kids burst through the screen door, clamoring for food.

  “Something smells,” William said, wrinkling his nose at the smoking fire pit.

  “Is something burning?” Madison asked.

  “I’m hungry,” Zoë said.

  “Me too,” Eliza replied. What was going on? Where were the eats?

  “Camille always made me a double cheeseburger,” Madison said. “With lots of onions and pickles,” she added hopefully.

  “Who’s Camille?” Mara asked.

  “She was here three days ago,” Madison said, playing with her napkin. “But she did a bad thing and had to go away.”

  Just then Anna wafted by, humming to herself. She was wearing a grass skirt over her bikini and had put an orchid in her hair (which was still showing slight aftereffects of William’s water attack). “The invitation said Hula Couture,” she said with a laugh, walking out to the patio. “Isn’t this fun? I got Michael Kors to se
w it up for me.”

  Kevin followed, wearing a formal tuxedo jacket over his Hawaiian shirt.

  “Is everyone having a lovely time?” Anna asked.

  “No!” William roared. “There’s nothing to eat!”

  “We’re hungry!” Madison whined.

  “What?” Anna said, walking over to investigate. She found the three au pairs sitting at the table in front of empty plates. “Why isn’t anything ready? I distinctly remembered informing you we were having a barbecue tonight.”

  “Oh!” Mara said.

  They had assumed they were invited to the barbecue. None of them had realized they were supposed to be cooking it.

  “You said to be here by seven,” Eliza said weakly.

  There was a frosty silence as the misunderstanding sank in.

  Anna frowned. “Huh. Well, Kevin and I have to get to the party in a few minutes, so I guess it doesn’t matter. You can take them to Main Beach afterward to see the fireworks.”

  “No problem, we’ll get on it right away,” Mara said, standing by the grill and handing Jacqui a flipper.

  “And remember the tuna for Madison,” Anna reminded them as she hoofed it out of the patio without saying good-bye to the kids.

  “Mama! Mama! Cody wanna Mama!” the baby cried after her.

  “Sh . . . shh . . .,” Mara said soothingly. “Mara’s here.”

  But Cody continued to howl.

  “This is bullsh—,” Eliza said, catching herself, as grease splattered on her skirt and Jacqui burned another patty.

  Mara pried the tuna off the grill. She wondered if it was safe to feed it to Madison; didn’t fish need to be cooked? Mara decided to keep it where it was. Hopefully Anna wouldn’t find out she had broken the raw food rule on the first night. She’d have to remember to ask Madison who this Camille was and why she was sent away.