CHAPTER NINE

The school week flew by much too quickly. Mom and Erik drove down the coast so that Erik could see more of Maine, so I had a few days’ reprieve, but I knew it wouldn’t last. Any day now they’d be back, and this time I’d be expected to spend “quality time” with them.

What would they consider quality time anyway?

My version of quality time was to sit in my kitchen nook writing stories. Usually, I wrote fantasy stories, but this week, I’d written about an obnoxious couple from California who toured Maine only to get lost in a fog that sucked them into another dimension. No one ever saw them again, so the story had a happy ending.

Bitterly, I wondered if this story would be relevant enough for Girl Power magazine.

Finally, on Friday afternoon Ana booted me out of the cupboard.

“Okay, Jane. Enough moping. Tonight is the tour of the Penmore Estate. You’ve got to be excited about that. The entire town is talking about it. My friend Sarah is on the landscaping crew, and she said the place is incredible.”

Ana had on old jeans and a Life Is Good T-shirt and her hair was pulled back in a bandanna. She’d been outside working in our garden. Actually, it was her garden because she was the only one who ever worked in it. She wiped away a trickle of sweat and left a smear of dirt along her forehead.

I shook my head. “I’m not going.”

“What? Of course you’re going! You and Kitty have been daydreaming about that place for years! How many drawings did the two of you do, imagining the inside of the mansion? How many stories have you set there?”

She was right, but I had my pride. If Devon Fairfax was going to look down on tourists at his house, then I wasn’t going to be one of them.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I lied. “I don’t care what it looks like inside.”

Ana shook her head. “You’re crazy. I’m dying to see the house.” She probably would have argued further, but we heard the rumble of Dad’s truck in the driveway. Ana glanced at her phone. “Five forty-five,” she muttered. “Not bad.”

Dad was notoriously late.

Then I heard a second car pull up. Did that mean Mom and Erik were here?

Ugh.

Ana swatted me on the backside. “Come on, Jane. You can’t avoid them forever.”

I followed her over and waited while Ana and Dad chatted. Mom and Erik got out of their shiny silver convertible and waved. Who rented a convertible in Maine when it was chilly to downright cold ninety percent of the year?

“Jane! We missed you so much! How are you, sweetie?” Mom flew over to me, making air kisses. Only my mother would give air kisses to her daughter.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled.

Ana got into her truck. She was moving faster than usual and I couldn’t help feeling as if, despite her directions to me, she was making a speedy getaway. “If you change your mind, maybe I’ll see you tonight,” she called through the open window as she backed out.

I shook my head. I wouldn’t change my mind.

“How was Bar Harbor?” Dad asked, turning to Mom and Erik.

“Wonderful,” Erik said. “What a great vista!”

“Wasn’t it perfect?” Mom agreed. “I’ve always loved Bar Harbor.”

This was a flat-out lie. Mom couldn’t stand Maine. She’d once told me there wasn’t an inch of the entire state she could tolerate.

“It would be awesome to film something there,” Erik said. “It’s getting tough to think of new things to blow up out in California.” He laughed uproariously, but I think he was serious.

“Well . . .” Dad said, and then it was obvious he didn’t have anything else to say. “There’s that.”

Mom sashayed over and kissed the top of my head.

“How was your first week of school?”

“Fine.”

“Are you still friends with that girl . . . Trixie?”

“Kitty. Mmm-hmm.”

“Any cute boys in your grade?” Mom said the words all singsong, and I rolled my eyes, but my mind flashed to Devon. Traitorous mind.

“No.”

Mom’s smile wavered. “Your father and I met in seventh grade. We were the school sweethearts right up through graduation. Of course, it didn’t work out for us in the end, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Mom,” I groaned. I did not want to hear about my parents’ failed romance.

Erik rubbed her shoulders. “We’re really looking forward to tonight,” he said, changing the subject. “A real mansion? Cool, huh? Maybe it’s haunted. Ooooo!”

He was doing that thing again where he spoke in an exaggerated way, as if I were two years old. I glanced at Dad to ask are you seeing this? but he avoided my gaze by inspecting a shrub.

Mom had on a bright green dress and stiletto heels, and now she smoothed out the shimmering fabric. It was tight-fitting with a plunging neckline, like something a celebrity would wear on the red carpet.

“So, Jane, are you almost ready to head out? The tours start at six p.m.”

“Head out?” I echoed.

“Didn’t your father tell you?” Mom glanced at Dad, but he didn’t look up. “We’re taking you on the tour of the Penmore Estate! We said we’d pick you up at quarter of six.”

For a moment, my heart stopped beating. I glared at Dad and he cringed. No, Dad hadn’t told me because I’d specifically said I didn’t want to go. And he could easily guess that I doubly wouldn’t want to go with Mom and Erik.

Well, two could play that game.

“Oh, right,” I said smoothly. “Dad and I changed our minds. We’ll meet you there. He was so excited to go on the tour that I couldn’t let him miss out. Right, Dad?”

Dad gave a longing glance at the house. I knew he had a stack of science journals inside that he was dying to read.

“Uh . . .” He paused. “See . . . we thought you could go with—”

Supersonic mind-piercing eye rays of doom.

“Me,” Dad finished. He cleared his throat. “Let me just get cleaned up and then I’ll take you.” He gave Mom a half shrug. “We can all meet there.”

My mother’s lips pursed tight. Dad headed into the house, his work boots clunking up the front steps. Mom and Erik shuffled awkwardly.

“I’m surprised your father is interested in this kind of thing. There’s nothing scientific on the tour that I’m aware of,” Mom muttered.

“Actually,” I argued, “Dad’s interested in many things these days.”

Mom snorted. “Like what?”

I tried to think of something non-scientific that Dad was interested in, but everything I came up with tied back to marine biology. Boats? Dad loved his science vessel, The Clam. Books? Dad loved books about oceanography. Movies? Dad watched movies with me, but if left to his own accord, he’d choose documentaries every time.

“Women.” The word popped out.

“Really?” Erik laughed and Mom’s lips parted in surprise. “Your father is dating?”

“Uh-huh.”

Okay. It was technically a lie, but once I’d set Dad up with someone, it would be true.

“Wow,” Mom breathed.

“That’s great,” Erik said. “Good for him, right?” He reached over and patted my head as if I were a terrier. “I produced a movie for children once where both of the little boy’s parents got remarried to spies who worked for opposing governments. All kinds of explosions in that one.”

Finally, Dad came back outside. He’d changed from his old stained blue jeans and T-shirt into a non-stained pair of blue jeans and a less faded T-shirt. I looked down at my favorite baggy overalls with my plain blue shirt underneath. Part of me considered changing, but another part refused to change for the likes of Devon Fairfax.

“Guess we’re all ready to head out?” Dad said.

“Sure. We’ll follow you over,” Erik agreed.

“Are you certain you don’t want to ride with us?” Mom pressed, but I just smiled.

“I’m sure.”

Mom sighed. “Okay then. See you there.”

---

When we finally left, Dad and I were silent for a long time. I could tell he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how to get the words from his brain to his mouth.

“You’re going to have to spend time with your mother eventually,” Dad said at last.

I nodded. “I know. That’s why I agreed to go tonight.”

“Erik’s probably not as bad as he seems on the surface.”

“You think? Have you seen his teeth, Dad? They’ve got to be dentures. They’re unnaturally huge and white. And the hair—”

“Jane,” Dad warned.

“Fine. I’ll give them a chance, but can we at least go the long way to the Penmore Estate so I can fortify myself?”

Dad chuckled. “Fortify, eh?” But he turned off on the road that would take us by the sea.

“So how come you’re not more excited about this tour? Won’t Kitty be there? I thought you’d be champing at the bit to meet this author lady.”

I shrugged. “She has an annoying son.”

“Oh. Right. The boy from the library fiasco.”

I nodded and Dad gave me a sympathetic half-smile. We’d reached the road that paralleled the ocean, so we both stopped talking. The wind was up and the waves were high, crashing against the seawall at every turn. Thousands of water-worn pebbles dotted the pavement where the waves splashed them up and over, making Dad’s old flatbed truck rumble and jolt. Most folks avoided this street, but Dad couldn’t get enough of the sea. Even when he wasn’t at work, he needed to be near it. Needed to hear the bass rumble of the water and feel the sting of salt against his skin.

He rolled down his window and inhaled. Behind us, we could hear the rev of Mom and Erik’s rental car, and I bet that Mom was annoyed we’d taken the long way. Dad once told me that the year after I was born, Mom had given him an ultimatum: Move to Hollywood or get a divorce. They’d signed the papers six months later.

He told me that story on days when I was angry that Mom never visited us. Up until now, I’d always had to fly to her. And when I did visit, she spent the whole time talking about whatever new guy she was dating. She’d go on and on about how great it was to have me there, but when I got home, she’d forget to call. Or e-mail. Or communicate in any way.

So, Dad’s story was supposed to make me blame him for not giving in to save their marriage, but I’d never been able to see things that way. The way I saw it, Maine was part of my father, as important as the air in his lungs, and if you loved someone, you’d never ask them to stop breathing, would you? You’d never try to separate them from what they loved most.

Besides, no matter what Dad said, the truth was . . . Mom could’ve taken me with her if she’d wanted to. According to Kitty, courts always gave custody to the biological mother even if she was wicked. But my mom hadn’t wanted me, and I was grateful for that fact. Leaving me with Dad was the best thing Mom had ever done.

I reached over the seat and grabbed Dad’s hand, squeezing it tight. He looked up, surprised, but then I rolled down my window, just like he had, and took a deep breath. The air was so cold it made my nose hairs tingle, but it smelled briny, like seaweed.

Like my dad.

We rode the rest of the way to the Penmore Estate like that, holding hands in the truck cab, covered in a fine layer of ocean mist. When we finally reached the edge of the estate, I hoped the massive front gates might have already closed for the night, but no such luck. We pulled in, then followed the long, winding road up to where the mansion sat. The road was lined with trees, their leaves alternating reds and oranges. Beside the house, a makeshift parking lot had been roped off on the side lawn.

A heavy weight settled in my stomach, and I took several breaths, trying to dispel my dread. If I were Devon, and my house was on display, I’d stay holed up in my room the entire time—especially if I didn’t want people there in the first place—so maybe I wouldn’t even see him.

Mom and Erik got out of their car and Mom’s stiletto heels sunk into the grass. Erik gave her a sympathetic look and I heard him murmur, “Hey, at least this place has class.”

I knew Mom felt the same way. This was what she’d always wanted—the high life. Wealth, fame, and all that came with it.

I kept my hand linked with Dad’s as we walked up the long cobblestone walkway. Outside, it was dark, but delicate white lights decorated everything: every tree in the yard, the entire outline of the roof, and each of the small balconies that jutted out from the upper-story windows. Dad and I joined the end of a small line of people. While I strained to spot Kitty, he greeted everyone, making the usual small talk.

Just beyond the front door was a line of Fairfaxes, starting with the tall, dark-haired woman in a navy blue business suit who I recognized as J. E. Fairfax. She was followed by Caroline, Devon, and Matthew.

They were all dressed in navy blue, and the boys had blue sport coats with emblems on the front pocket. Their mother clearly had a fixation with dressing her kids alike in the nerdiest clothes known to humankind.

In order to enter the house, people had to shake hands with each of them. The closer we got, the more everything seemed to slow down and become distorted. An imaginary camera zoomed in on tiny imperfections, blowing them out of proportion. I noticed every stained flannel shirt, every person who laughed too loud or shook hands too hard.

The Fairfax family stood with their backs straight, polished and poised. Caroline, especially, seemed to be sneering at everyone as they passed her. She kept leaning over to whisper things to Devon. Were they making jokes? She waved at one of the girls from school, but when she turned back around, she rolled her eyes.

Right then, Devon noticed my presence in the line. He stared at me and it almost seemed as if he’d been about to smile, but I looked away quick. My cheeks burst into flames. If Devon Fairfax stayed in Whickett Harbor, I might need to invest in a personal fire extinguisher for my face. By the time I glanced over again, Devon was busy greeting the people ahead of us in line.

He didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at him either, but I could already tell that it was going to be a very long night.