Sam frowned. “They’re here in Los Angeles? Why didn’t you say something?”
His answer was to extract an envelope from his pants pocket. “For your graduation.”
Sam tore it open—it held a pair of old-fashioned plane tickets. “Lima …
Peru
?”
“We leave in four hours,” Eduardo said calmly. “I apologize, my father’s jet is in use. We have to fly commercial, but we’ll be in first class.”
“This kind of stuff only happens in movies with Jennifer Aniston.”
Eduardo laughed. “Stop home and pack—you can see your dad. We’ll be back on Tuesday, in time to see your mother. If you want, that is.”
“Is this really happening?”
“If you want it to.”
“But … but what about a visa?”
Eduardo laughed heartily. “You forget where I work. Your visa is all arranged. There’s only one thing for you to do. Say yes.”
Sam smiled a smile so big she thought her face would break. “Yes, Eduardo. A hundred times, yes!”
The front of Beverly Hills High School featured a circular driveway, just like so many other buildings in a city addicted to the heroin of the internal combustion engine (with the exception of Prius owners, who’d replaced it with hybrid methodone). Most mornings the driveway was vacant, since the vast majority of students owned their own vehicles and queued up at the parking lot.
Not so on graduation night, when the circular drive did its best impression of Hollywood Boulevard and Cahuenga an hour before the Academy Awards. As Anna and most of her family stepped into fresh air, the roadway was already packed with Beemers, BMWs, and Hummers—the urban-assault vehicles of the rich and famous.
They stood in a little knot, waiting for Jonathan to arrive. Anna had already called Caine to come and pick her up.
“I’m so proud of you,” Susan beamed. “Really.”
“Thanks, Suze. I mean it.”
Susan linked her arm through Gordon’s. “And this is amazing: Gordon got a fantastic idea at the exact moment that you were getting your diploma.”
Anna raised her eyebrows. She noted that her mother was making the exact same dubious gesture.
“Tell her, Gordon,” Susan implored excitedly.
“I’d love to.” Her sister’s boyfriend looked at Anna as if he was about to offer the Nobel Prize in literature. “You sister and I were wondering if you’d like to come back east for the summer. To work at Kripalu, before you start at Yale in the fall. There’s a summer opening in housekeeping that I’m sure I could arrange for you to get. I have a lot of clout around the place.”
“Wouldn’t that be great?” Susan prompted. “We could spend the summer together!”
Anna smiled sweetly, though it was hard to imagine anything more insufferable.
“That is a very kind offer, Gordon. And it would be great to see Susan every day. But no. I’ll be here in Los Angeles until I come back east.”
Gordon looked disappointed. “Thought I’d ask, is all. If it was me, I’d definitely leave all this superficial pap behind.”
“Me, too,” Susan echoed.
“What will you be doing for the summer, Anna dear?” her mother queried.
What, indeed? Anna wasn’t sure. She’d hoped to just have fun with Ben, to be young and carefree—well, as carefree as she ever got—for one last summer before she became a serious college student. But now what? She knew that if she were a different kind of girl, she could easily forgive him. A different kind of girl wouldn’t even have gotten mad at him. But she wasn’t that different kind of girl, and doubted that she ever would be.
And that, she decided, was okay.
“Sam mentioned the possibility of our working as production assistants on
Ben-Hur
. Her father is shooting through August.”
“That sounds very educational,” Jane declared, clearly a lot more comfortable with that course of action than with Anna in yoga threads scrubbing other people’s toilets with all-natural toilet brushes. “I’m leaving for Florence on Monday. You must keep me posted on how it’s going.”
“Our chariot awaits.” Gordon pointed to the driveway, where Jonathan inched up in the Mercedes and flashed his lights a few times. Then he frowned. “Anna, do you think your father has any idea of the evil history of Daimler-Benz, or how much it hurts the Earth to drive one?”
Jane gave Anna a thin little smile. Anna knew exactly what it meant: I can put up with this young man for the duration of this visit.
I would rather have your sister be with this young man than be drugged out in some squat on the Lower East Side. However, if they decide to get married, I might have to reassess.
“I’ll see you in the morning, dear.” Jane kissed Anna’s cheek. “Enjoy your evening. I’m sorry it won’t be with Ben, but your father says that Mr. Manning really is quite an interesting young man.”
How typical of her mother to be so diplomatic in public. Anna waved as Jane, Susan, and Gordon got into the Mercedes and rolled away into the night.
The line of vehicles coming for their passengers was endless; Anna realized it could be quite a while before Caine arrived. There were stone benches close to the auditorium doors; she decided to wait on one of them.
“Congratulations on your graduation.”
Anna looked over at the next bench. Ben was sitting there, in faded jeans and a white T-shirt under a light red cotton jacket. She felt herself turn to something less than solid, the ground sliding beneath her feet. What good was it to say she was in control with him when just seeing him made her want to fling herself into his arms?
“I came. Feel any different?”
So. He’d been there. Funny how she hadn’t sensed his presence.
“Relieved, I guess,” Anna responded carefully. “To have it behind me.”
“You weren’t a big fan of high school, huh?”
“It was an art I never really mastered,” she admitted. “Pep rallies and gossip and who broke up with who …”
“Snob,” he teased.
She nodded seriously and flexed her calf muscles. “I suppose I am in some ways. Not about class—at least, I hope not. But about … I don’t know … seriousness of purpose? Intellect.”
“You have to admit I brought fun into your life.”
She smiled. “Yes. You did.”
“Woohoo! I’m outta here!” a graduating senior with an ill-advised mohawk screamed out the passenger window as his Jeep circled the driveway.
“If I could go back and do things differently, I would,” Ben said softly.
“Which part?” Anna asked. “Sleeping with Blythe or not telling me about it?”
He puffed out some air. “Both, I suppose. I swear, I was honest with her. When I told you that she and I agreed to just have friendly sex—nothing more—I wasn’t lying to you. She said that was all she wanted too.”
Anna thought about this a moment. “Maybe she was being honest, too; at the time. Maybe afterwards, she had all these feelings. For some people, it’s hard to have sex without love. Impossible, even.”
“You’re talking about yourself,” Ben proclaimed gently.
“Yes. What did you think I would have done if you just told me about it?”
He looked off into the distance. “Thought less of me. Definitely.”
Well, that was honest, at least.
“Can I take you somewhere? Not my house or the boat; I mean some place to celebrate your graduation. How about Grace on Beverly Boulevard? The bartender makes this killer drink called an Orange Blossom Special. You have to try one.”
One part of her wanted to call Caine, say that she and Ben had reconciled, apologize profusely. And another part of her … didn’t. Not because she didn’t want to be with Ben, and not because she didn’t love him. So what, then, was keeping her from flinging herself into Ben’s muscular arms?
“I’m always … reacting to you, Ben. You saved me on the airplane. You whisked me off to Jackson Sharpe’s wedding.”
“You’re still thinking about that?”
“I am,” she hesitated for a second. “It’s almost as if … you’re the center of the universe for me. It’s been like that ever since I met you. And now I think maybe … I should be, instead of you. The heroine of my own life.”
“From where I sit, you always have been.”
She was surprised. “Really? Well, that’s good. But I need it to be true from where I sit, too.”
“Hey, there.”
Anna looked up. Caine was leaning out the driver’s window of his blue F-150 Ford pickup. His eyes flitted from Anna to Ben and back to Anna, questioning.
“The guy from the movie line?” Ben was aghast. “Tell me you’re not going out with him.”
“I’m not,” Anna assured him. “Not in the way you think. He’s my friend.”
Ben reached for her hand. “C’mon. Blow him off.”
“I could,” she agreed. She got up and kissed Ben’s cheek. “But I’m not going to. Thank you for coming. We’ll talk soon, okay?” With that, she walked around to the passenger side of Caine’s truck and got in, doing everything she could not to turn back and look. She wasn’t sure what she was doing exactly, but inside somehow, it just felt … right.
“Juggling guys?” Caine wondered aloud.
“He just showed up. We talked.”
The truck inched forward. “So, you good?”
Was she? Tonight was an ending; not so much with Ben, but of her high school self. Tomorrow would be … something else. She hoped Ben would be a part of that. But this time she’d be the active heroine, the one behind the wheel.
Was she good?
“Yes,” she told Caine as they finally made it to the end of the driveway. She realized just how true it was. The summer, new adventures, Yale, her entire life—all of that lay ahead of her.
She was very,
very
good.