Beach Lane

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 sew 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.

“Don’t they have a chef?” Mara asked. She had observed enough servants around the property.

“Uh-huh. Cordon Bleu. But he doesn’t do kiddie meals apparently. It’s probably below him.” Eliza shrugged. She was used to handling difficult help. Laurent, their former French chef, refused to cook anything other than five-star meals. He would throw a tantrum when her dad demanded a well-done steak. Her mother eventually had to replace him with someone more flexible.

“Hey, did anyone see the rest of the ahi?” Eliza asked.

“There’s just this itty piece,” Mara said.

Jacqui shrugged. She’d found a six-pack of beer underneath the soda cans and had helped herself to one. “Miller Lite?” she offered.

Eliza shook her head. She unwrapped all the waxed paper packages in a panic, but they all contained ground meat. Apparently Anna had decided not to waste the precious tuna on the likes of them.

The reality of her status finally sank in: she had been installed in an attic room instead of the corner bedroom. Fed burgers instead of tuna steak. She wasn’t a guest on the Perry estate. Eliza Thompson, former “it girl,” was now the help.





main beach: you can only keep eliza down for so long





THE BEACH WAS AS CROWDED AS CENTRAL PARK DURING a Dalai Lama blessing or a free White Stripes concert. The fireworks show had begun, and as rockets whizzed up to the heavens, Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony thundered from temporary overhead speakers. Stylish picnickers popping champagne corks and feasting on three-pound lobsters sat on checkered tablecloths and sent fuzzy photos via their cell phones to provide latecomers with location coordinates. Almost no one looked up. They had better things to do, like blanket-hop to exchange effusive double-cheek air kisses and discreetly check out each other’s flowered Murakami handbags.

The three au pairs secured a place on top of the hill, primo real estate, thanks to Eliza’s pushiness. She found them a postage-stamp-sized area bordered by two identical silk jacquard blankets and managed to expand their territory by letting Cody cry his lungs out as the rockets boomed. Nothing like an irritable toddler to motivate self-involved single Hamptonites to get out of the way.

Mara couldn’t help but overhear some of the chatter around them.

“How’s the black truffle ravioli?” a woman asked her guests as she handed out monogrammed china filled with plump, glistening pasta and smothered with a white cream sauce.

“Superb. And the cervelle de canut is divine with this Reisling.”

“Did someone bring the opera glasses?” another asked, motioning for a pair of binoculars.

She had never seen anyone picnic like this before. Back home, picnics meant a couple of sandwiches, a bag of chips, and a liter of soda. Not a four-course menu with a different wine accompaniment for each entrée. Wresting her eyes away from the neighboring sheets, Mara turned back to her own group.

“Madison, where did you find that candy bar?” she asked.

Madison looked up guiltily and stuffed the entire Snickers bar in her mouth for fear of having it taken away. Mara shook her head. She would have to find out where the kid hid her stash or they were all dead. She did a quick head count. One, two, three . . . That couldn’t be right. “William! Eliza, Jacqui, have you seen William?!” she asked.

The two shrugged indifferently.

“You guys stay here; I’ll try to find him,” Mara said, beginning to panic. She walked carefully around the perimeter, calling his name as softly as she could. “William?” she whispered. “William? Where are you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, tiptoeing by an uproarious group of clean-cut guys in matching khaki pants and Teva sandals, puffing on cigars as they cheered the spectacle in the sky.

“No worries. Why don’t you join us?” one asked, offering her a plastic cup filled with bubbly.

“No thanks. I’m just looking for a little boy.” Mara shook her head.

“We’re all big boys here.” He winked. “C’mon, stay awhile.” He looked about twenty-two, red cheeked, and well meaning, but she wasn’t interested in older guys (even older guys with the maturity of teenagers).

“Really, I can’t. I’m working.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an au pair.”

And with those four little words, his posture changed. He raked his eyes over her body. “Then you’ve got absolutely no excuse not to stay. It’s not like you’ve got a real job, right?”

Mara turned away without answering him, completely offended.

“WILLIAM!!” Mara began to yell in desperation, not caring if she caused a scene. The hyperactive nine-year-old finally reappeared, making airplane noises and screaming every time the rockets boomed.

“Don’t ever do that again!” Mara scolded. “You can’t just disappear like that! It’s not safe!”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” William screamed. “YOU’RE NOT MY MOMMY!”

“I know I’m not your mommy, but I work for your mommy.”

“No, you don’t—you work for ANNA,” William spat.

Back at the blanket, Mara recounted what the Dartmouth-undergrad-look-alike had said to her. “It was like I said ‘au pair’ but he heard ‘hooker’!”

Eliza rolled her eyes. She could have warned her about using the “a” word to describe herself. “Most of the young investment banker types around here think au pairs are easy summer lays with little or no responsibility. Stay away from them; they rent tract homes in Westhampton and are totally not worth your while,” Eliza advised.

Madison removed a Ziploc full of gummi bears from her pocket. She nudged her brother. “The other au pairs were a lot nicer.”

“Wait. What other au pairs?” Mara demanded.

“Camille, Tara, and Astrid. They were taking care of us because Nanny went back to England this summer,” Zoë piped up.

“What happened to them?” Eliza wanted to know.

“They were fired,” William said gleefully. “It was funny.” He hugged his knees, remembering how the Porsche Cayenne careened through the streets of East Hampton and screeched to a halt at the Jitney stop and how his stepmother used bad, bad words as she threw their suitcases out of the window.

“Fired?” Mara asked, a chill in her heart. The possibility had never occurred to her. That would totally ruin her plans to earn enough money for her college tuition.

Fired? Eliza thought. Now, that would definitely complicate matters. She was supposed to spend the whole summer here—God help them if they tried to ship her back to Buffalo.

Jacqui didn’t much care about being fired. As long as they did it after she found Luca.

“I miss them,” Zoë said. “Tara was supposed to braid my hair today.”

But before they could ask them any more questions about this mystery, a particularly loud firecracker exploded and Cody started to bawl again.

“Oh my God, can you hold him? What should we do?” Eliza said, thrusting the toddler into Mara’s arms.

“Shh . . . shh . . .,” Mara said, rocking him on her lap and trying to hum a lullaby.

“Thees one says she’s a little hungry,” Jacqui said, pointing to Madison. “Maybe we give her something?” she asked when Mara had her back turned.

“What’s in the basket?” Eliza asked.

“Pringles.”

“Yeah, fine.” Eliza shrugged.

Mara looked up. “Hey, where’d William go? William! Stay here! On the blanket! Don’t move!” Mara said in her best sophomore class secretary voice. “Zoë, come on, honey, look at all the colors, aren’t they nice?”

“Cody, it’s okay, baby, it’s only fireworks. I know, they’re loud, but it’s okay,” she soothed.

A few minutes later the kids were crowded around Mara, who put an arm around all of them. “Look at that! The Stars and Stripes! Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Mara asked the little girls, who were sitting raptly looking at the night sky. The boys were passed out on the blanket, William utterly spent from chasing dragonflies and Cody sleeping in his stroller with his thumb in his mouth.

Eliza looked at her cell phone. Uh-oh. Almost eleven. Time to motor.

“Hey, you know what, I’ve got to run. I’m meeting some friends . . .,” Eliza said, brushing grass stains off her knees and starting to walk away.

“Excuse me?” Mara asked.

“Where are you going?” Jacqui asked.

“Party. Wanna come?” Eliza said.

“Sí.” Jacqui nodded, standing up.

“Yeah, after all, you’ve got things under control here, right, Mary?” Eliza asked. But before Mara could answer, Eliza and Jacqui were running down the hill as fast as their stilettos would take them.





resort is the hottest party in the hamptons. at least until next week.





ELIZA TOOK A DEEP BREATH AS SHE SCANNED THE MOB scene outside Resort. Five hundred people were elbowing each other to get closer to the velvet-roped entrance, and there was a backup of twenty stretch limos parked on the driveway, waiting to discharge their famous (or merely showy) passengers. Skinny, toothpick-sized women with significant cleavage, lathered in layers of foundation, blush, and hair spray, wearing brightly colored tank tops and formfitting knee-length skirts, picked their way across the gravel in spindly sandals. Their dates, slick older men with equally artificial tans, jangled enormous gold bracelets on their hairy wrists.

Two spotlights directed up in the air lit the entire scene like a movie set. Several overwhelmed publicists tried to control the crowd while burly, three-hundred-pound bouncers glared at the overeager revelers.

Eliza fought her way to the front armed with the magic words: I’m on the list!

“Eliza Thompson!” she screamed at a beleaguered girl in a headset.

After rifling through her pages the door girl snapped, “You’re not on the list. You’ll have to wait in line.”

“Under Kit Ashleigh?!”

“You should have said that you were on Kit’s list in the first place,” she said sullenly. “What did you say your name was again?”

“ELIZA THOMPSON!”

“Oh, there you are.” The girl nodded at the gorilla in the three-piece suit. He lifted the rope reluctantly. Eliza tugged at Jacqui’s arm, and the two were swept inside the nightclub.

They found themselves in the middle of a chaotic scene, and Jacqui felt the familiar rush she felt whenever she was somewhere new, uncharted, and maybe even slightly dangerous. She licked her lips in anticipation. She was certain Luca was here somewhere. She could feel it.

“Hold up!” Eliza said, grabbing Jacqui’s arm. “I see my friends over there.”

Kit was sitting in the middle of the biggest banquette in the middle of the packed VIP room. His face lit up when he spotted Eliza. “Liza!”

“Kitty cat!” she shrieked, giving him a two-cheek air kiss as if they hadn’t just seen each other a few hours before.

“Who’s your friend?” Kit asked, wagging his eyebrows at Jacqui.

“Jacqui Velasco. She’s, uh, an exchange student . . . living with my uncle’s family,” Eliza said before Jacqui could open her mouth. She gave Jacqui a mute plea to play along.

“Sí.” Jacqui shrugged. What was that all about?

“Cool,” Kit said. “What are you studying?”

“Design,” Jacqui said.

“English,” Eliza replied.

They looked at each other. Eliza laughed nervously. “English design, right, Jac?”

“Whatever,” Jacqui conceded. She was too busy scanning the room for a sign of her beloved to deal with Eliza right now. But she was polite enough to smile at Kit, who beamed at her.

“About time you got here!” Kit’s girlfriend, Taylor, said to Eliza as she squeezed herself between her man and the hot South American girl.

“You’re back!” Lindsay, another friend, crowed, coming to join them.

“My girls!” Eliza said, triumphant.

So many people were coming up to hug and kiss her she felt like homecoming queen. Except that she’d never be caught dead at something as lame as a high school dance. This was homecoming Eliza style: frozen margaritas, flowing bottles of Cliquot, hot guys, good shoes, even better cars parked outside.

“Sweetie, you look fantastic!” Taylor said in an admiring and slightly jealous tone.

“You must be starving yourself!” said Lindsay, the master of the left-handed compliment.

“Is Charlie here?” Eliza asked, a little too eagerly.

“Not yet. Why?” Lindsay asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Nothing. I just thought it would be nice to see him, for old times’ sake.” Eliza shrugged.

Lindsay and Taylor exchanged a knowing look.

“Well, look who’s here,” purred a voice from behind the champagne bucket. A sloe-eyed blonde with a vixenish pout appraised them coolly. She was wearing a pink beret, aviator sunglasses, and a tight baby T-shirt that showed off a completely flat midriff.

“Sugar!” Eliza said, bending down to say hello.

“Careful—I just had it blow-dried,” Sugar Perry said, turning away before Eliza could get any closer.

“How are you?” Eliza asked, sliding into the seat next to her.

Sugar was the most popular girl at Eliza’s old prep school. At least, she was now that Eliza had left.

“I’m all right,” Sugar drawled, taking a cigarette from Eliza’s pack and tapping it on her hand. “I’m so over this scene.”

“I know, it’s so boring. The same every year.” Eliza knew this was the right thing to say in the Hamptons, even though the truth was, she was thrilled to be back.

“You’re so lucky your parents sent you to boarding school.” Sugar sighed. “If only I could get away from mine.”

“It’s never going to happen,” added a similarly hoarse voice. Eliza looked up to see Sugar’s identical twin, Poppy, looming over them.

“Eliza, you’re back,” Poppy said flatly. She had the same long platinum Donatella-Versace-like locks as her sister, the same seductive languor, but where Sugar had the makings of a porn star in a debutante body, Poppy, who was taller and two minutes younger, projected a more innocent air. Sugar was sexy; Poppy was just cute.

Finding the banquette fully crowded, Poppy parked herself on Eliza’s lap without a second thought. Eliza didn’t have the nerve to complain. She was too excited not to have to answer any difficult questions. Taylor and Lindsay receded to the background, pretending not to be bothered that Eliza had replaced them for the twins without a second thought.

Meanwhile, after downing two quick flutes of champagne and making chitchat with some of Eliza’s friends, Jacqui scanned the room again. These people were nice enough, and yes, she could tell they were rich, but after meeting Luca, Jacqui had started caring less about those things. Before him she probably would have made her way straight over to the handsome Almost Forty who was staring at her from across the room—Jacqui knew the benefits of seeing an older man (hello, expense account)—but Luca had changed everything. For once she had found a guy who really liked her for who she was, not what she looked like.

Jacqui looked around, trying to look through the older man still staring her down. I can see your wedding ring, she thought. And then a flash of familiar stripes made her sit up a little straighter. Was it? No way . . . there was no way. But it was worth a shot. She stood up, pulling her underwear-completely-optional-low-rider jeans up with her, and she walked off to follow the lanky guy wearing a very familiar-looking rugby shirt.