What a Girl Needs (26 page)

F
rom my vantage
point on the kitchen stool, I spy Emily outside, lounging in the sun by the enormous, sparkling pool. Maggie is lying beside her, and the two of them don’t seem to have a care in the world.
The very sight annoys me. Doesn’t she know how worried everyone else has been?

I put my cup down on the counter. “Excuse me, Clara, I think I need to talk to Emily for a minute.”

As I cross the travertine floor, through the dramatic arches and cross the oversized family room, I keep my eyes fixed on Emily, so I don’t notice when Fish comes by my side near the arched doorways. “Ashley, you made it.”

I nod. “I did. I’m just going to speak with Emily for a moment.” I point to the pregnant, lounging princesses.

“Before you do, would you mind if I have a word?”

My muscles tighten. “I shouldn’t have brought her here. This is Clara’s doing, not yours. Let me go talk to her and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Fish shakes his greying head, his eyes are smiling. Every time I’ve ever met Fish, he garnered that smile, as if he held some magical secret to the world that the rest of us were not privy to. He is eternally, unnaturally happy, and like a soaring hummingbird, I want to reach out and take hold of some of its magic.

“Sit down a minute, Ashley. Ever since you were a child you were full of that energy and you never stopped.” He sits on the couch and raises his arms. “Look where you are. You’re on vacation, you’re in Sonoma, the heart of wine country, and you’re so focused on fixing everything, you’re missing the moment.”

“At the moment, I want to harm my sister-in-law.”

“I imagine that happens a lot with Emily. She’s quite a storyteller.”

“That’s one way to look at it. I’d be more apt to use the term,
deceiver
.” Lioness of Satan?

He chuckles. “I’m sure you would, but for today, let’s say she’s a storyteller and she is queen of her own magnificent kingdom.”

I plop on the plush, white sofa and stretch out my legs.

“Isn’t that better to take a load off?”

“Fish, leave her alone!” Clara calls from the kitchen.

“We’re just having a conversation. No need to butt in here.”

“I promised her mother we’d take care of things, so don’t go worrying her about Emily.”

“Am I worrying you?” he asks me before raising his voice again. “I know, Clara. We’re just having a discussion, don’t go getting all excited. Why don’t you make me a sandwich?” Fish winks at me. “That will get her going. You watch.”

Clara appears in the doorway. “What did you say to me?”

“I said, why don’t you make yourself useful and slap me together a sandwich.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Clara disappears for a moment, we hear her rifling through a drawer, and Fish wiggles his brows. Clara appears again with a rolling pin in her hand.

“Do you want to ask me that question again?”

“Not on your life.” Fish chuckles. “I’m just talking to Ashley about the job. Give us a minute.” He turns back to me. “I have a patent I’d like you to look at it. Your dad tells me you haven’t been working much in Philly.”

“I know my dad did
not
say that.”

“You’re right. He said you were turning into a bum and after all that expensive education they mortgaged the house for.”

I nod. “That sounds more like my father.”

“I’ve got the new patent written and it’s on my computer, but I’m too old to follow through with it. I thought that part of life was over, and I don’t know if all the T’s are crossed, the I’s dotted. You know the drill. The red tape drives me crazy anymore.”

I smile. “Red tape makes me a living. What’s the patent for?”

“It’s a software program for managing a winery and making it profitable. So many wine lovers come up here to retire, buy a vineyard and have no idea what to do with it. Some vintner comes along, offers them money for the grapes and that’s where it ends. The business aspect of running a winery is not complicated, but there is a business model. I figure if I can teach them that business model, they can fulfill their dreams of having their own winery and making a profit in retirement. Very simple if you follow the business model.”

“The trouble is, no one knows that simple business model,” I tell him.

“Precisely.” Fish sits back on the sofa and crosses his arms across his chest. “It won’t be a huge seller, but that’s why we can ask more for it. People can put $1,000 or so into the software and make a living and fund their retirement much more effectively. It will be their decision if they want to just sit on their grapes and wait for surrounding wineries to pull in the profits.”

“And if they want to sit on the grapes?”

He shrugs. “By all means, sell the grapes. But I fail to see why successful businessmen retire here and let money fly out the door by allowing the grapes to be mere landscaping. It makes no sense to me.”

“I’m happy to look at the patent, but you realize I’ll have to research competing software and you may have to make changes depending on anyone else’s process. And that this is nepotism, and I’m perfectly capable of getting a job without your help.”

“You think way too highly of me. I want you to file it. Do all the research, change the wording as necessary and get it working. I’m not going to pay you; I’m going to give you 50% of the profit. You’ll have to make the patent work internationally. I suppose there are idiot retirees in France and other wine regions, too.”

I laugh. “I’m certain we do not have a corner on the market of village idiots. But if you have to be the village idiot, this isn’t a bad place to be one.”

“Agreed.”

I watch as Emily flips herself over on the chaise in the sun, and moves the cushions to cradle her tiny belly. “Really, Fish. I appreciate what you and Clara are trying to do, but I need to take her back home with me.”

He shakes his head. “You act like Clara hasn’t brought home some doozies. I’d say 90% of what they tell us isn’t true in the beginning. Sure, there are some honest ones who are really in trouble and appreciate the help right from the start, but the rest of them? Oy! Fahgettaboutit.” Fish waves his hand. “They’re always the victims, but I guarantee you, most of them have done something to contribute to their situation. Oh we’ve had some girls that were harmed, I’m not talking about them, of course. But we’ve had quite a few who set a trap for marriage, and the man-child they were toying with didn’t come through in the end.”

“I don’t even know what her story is.”

“Emily hasn’t told you truth yet, and she won’t until she’s ready—or, until she’s forced to. That’s my experience. Take it for what it’s worth. If you back her into a corner, she’ll feel as if she’s fighting for her survival and the results may be worse.”

“She’s going to be fighting for her survival if she lies to me again.”

Fish laughs. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly. You’re all talk.”

“Maybe, but why would anyone lie for no reason?”

“You don’t know that she’s lying for no reason.”

“She just does the strangest things. She makes no rhyme or reason.”

Clara comes from the kitchen. “She probably didn’t get enough attention at home.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it.”

Clara sits beside me on the couch. “It doesn’t matter. Quit worrying yourself over this.”

“I feel as if I’m shirking my duties.”

“Your duties are to get that patent written,” Fish says. “Let me give you a USB drive with the patent before you go.”

“Fish, don’t hustle her out. I’m sure she wants to stay for an early dinner.”

“I couldn’t intrude any more than I already have.”

Kay jogs into the family room. “Oh my gosh, this place is incredible! Every room has its own bathroom, and there’s a place for everything. And it’s all laaaa-bled!” she sings in operatic voice. “There are his and her closets, all organized by type, color and season. Can you handle it?”

“You were in their closet?”

Kay’s eyes widen. “Was I not supposed to go in their closet?”

“Well, it’s generally nice to ask before you walk into someone’s closet. It’s personal.”

“Does that mean I can’t look in the kitchen cabinets? Is that personal?”

“Kay!”

Clara laughs. “You can look anywhere you’d like, Kay. We have nothing to hide, and I do appreciate a connoisseur of organization. It’s not everyone who would notice the seasonal aspect.”

“Kay notices everything. I’ll bet she’s dying to look in your pantry.”

Kay nods eagerly. “I am!”

“Come on, we’ll let those two work and we’ll check out the pantry and see what’s for dinner,” Clara says. “You’ll let me know if you have any tips?”

From here on out, I will refer to my mother’s friend as Santa Clara
. A true saint.

Kay claps her hands together. She’s actually giddy. Let me mention that I saw none of this excitement when she thought Matt might be asking her to marry him…or that she might be getting a Tiffany ring on that left hand of hers. She saved all that dizzying enthusiasm for a closet of groceries.

Fish leads me across the house, through the enormous foyer, underneath the majestic staircase to his office, which overlooks the sun-kissed hills etched evenly by vines. His office is all wood, but not the dark mahogany of the entryway, but a lighter, airier color. Double glass doors lay open to a patio, and his large desk has nothing on it. “I can’t believe I’ve known you practically my whole life and never heard you built this house.”

“It’s just a house, Ashley. Clara hates it. She won’t say so, but she hates it.”

“Only someone who owned a mansion like this would say it’s just a house,” I laugh. “How could anyone hate this place? This is what I imagine heaven looks like. Only there are pretty, fluffy clouds beneath me rather than gravevines.”

He laughs. “Only, in heaven, someone else will do all the work that it takes to keep it up.” He sits down at his desk, and opens it, to reveal a pop-up desktop computer. “The house embarrasses her, so she never really invites her friends here. I got carried away. It’s a bad habit I have.”

“I never thought of that.”
And let’s face it, I never would think to be embarrassed by my own castle.
“Did you ever think of moving?”

“Oh yeah, and we will someday. When the property gets to be too much. For now, Clara will fill it up with people who need to find their path.”

“Someday,” I sigh wistfully. “Someday I’ll be out of our miserable little house and someday, I’ll work again and—”

“Here’s the thing about someday, Ashley, it never comes. Don’t wait for life to happen or you’ll miss it.”

“If I make a mistake, I have to fix it, unlike Emily. Everyone just takes care of her. She never has to grow up and take responsibility for herself.”

Fish looks up from his computer. “This bothers you?”

“It doesn’t bother me so much as it isn’t fair.”

“I know Someone else Who was nailed to a cross. It wasn’t fair either. Did you ever think that maybe Emily has that much faith to trust that life will work out for the best?”

Not Fish too
. Emily lives a touched existence. Everything around her turns to gold. And someone else is always paying its price.

‡

A
fter a lovely
dinner of curried chicken salad on fresh croissants outside by the infinity pool, all is quiet…peaceful. Emily is on her best behavior. Kay has seen about as much organization that her heart can handle, and Maggie is clearly excited to have someone her own age at the Mansion for Wayward Girls.

“I guess we’ll be leaving,” I say, as I scoot my chair out from the table. “Clara, this was—” The back right leg of my chair edges off the flagstone patio. I feel it go down into the pool, and struggle to maintain my balance, but it’s too late. I’m tangled in the skirt of my maxi-dress. I yank the edge of the table to keep from falling, but instead I grab the tablecloth and see only sky as I fall backwards. The water hits me like an icy breeze and I struggle in my summer dress as it wraps around my legs like a mummy’s dressing encasing me. I can see a few glasses and bits of silverware float around me in this surreal Salvador Dali imagery and some part of me just wants to stay underwater, but a need for oxygen makes this dream impossible and I press off the floor of the pool and propel myself upwards.

This is how I’m going to go one day. Some humiliating venture in front of people who matter to me, and they will struggle not to laugh at my funeral
. “Bahaha, it was so Ashley!”

“But it’s so sad she’s gone,” someone will say in a hushed voice.

“Yes,” Brea will say as she straightens her posture, and tries to maintain her composure before bursting into laughter again. “But really, didn’t we expect as much?”

I reach the surface, gasp for air, and lift my elbows over the edge to see everyone’s astonished expressions gazing at me. Let’s face it, there’s really no way to maintain any dignity at this point. Everyone is dressed in their lovely summer fare, staring down at my alien self with wet hair plastered to the side of my face.

Fish bends over the pool, trying to hide his smile, and takes my hand. With one force-filled yank, he pulls my entire body out of the water with ease.