CHAPTER TEN

Despite my mortification, I couldn’t help being intrigued. What would a real author’s house look like inside? Would the Penmore Estate look anything like the pictures Kitty and I had once drawn in our notebooks?

Sure enough, there was a chandelier, multiple statues, and a huge spiral staircase. I could see two large rooms on each side of the foyer. Small groups were being led on tours by members of the Whickett Harbor Historical Society. I wanted to stare at the grandeur of the place, soaking in the sparkle, but then it was our turn, and Dad reached out to shake J. E. Fairfax’s hand.

“Ma’am,” he said, inclining his head. “We appreciate your hospitality tonight. I’m Emmett Brannen and this is my daughter, Jane.”

Dad and J. E. Fairfax were exactly the same height. Up close, she was really beautiful. Her skin was flawless brown, and she wore the exact amount of makeup to highlight her features. I wondered what Devon’s dad looked like, because Devon’s skin was very pale. Matthew’s too. But Caroline had a lighter skin color than her mother, yet a darker skin color than her brothers, making it appear as if she’d been lying on the beach and gotten the world’s most amazing tan. I thought about how pasty my own skin looked in comparison.

“So this is the infamous Jane?” J. E. Fairfax said it with a laugh and a smile as if to assure me that I was off the hook for the trouble Devon and I had caused. She reached over to take my hand, then leaned in as if to tell me a secret. “Jane is my name too. J. E. stands for Jane Elinor. I was named after Jane Austen characters. Jane from Pride and Prejudice, and Elinor from Sense and Sensibility. But I’m sure you’re too young to know much about Jane Austen.”

“Actually, I do know about her,” I corrected. “My babysitter, Ana, is a big fan. She got me this necklace.”

I’d been wearing the necklace every day, and now I opened the book charm so J. E. Fairfax could see inside and read the quote: Indulge your imagination in every possible flight.

“How beautiful!”

“We’ve watched all of the movies based on Jane Austen’s books,” I added.

J. E. Fairfax’s smile dimmed. “Ah. The movies. But of course the films don’t compare to the novels. In a few years, when you’re old enough, you’ll be able to read Jane Austen’s works for yourself. Has your babysitter read them?”

The answer to that was sort-of. Ana had started reading Pride and Prejudice, but then she’d cried because she wasn’t a great reader and the language from the 1800s was very different from today. Ana’s biggest fear was that she wasn’t smart, but she was wrong. She was plenty smart. So, we’d started over again, reading out loud, and we’d figured it out together. It wasn’t actually that hard once you got used to it.

“We read Pride and Prejudice,” I said.

J. E. Fairfax’s eyes shot open and she looked as though she didn’t believe me, but Dad jumped in to back me up.

“Jane’s a real good reader,” Dad said. “She’s already read many of the classics—Wuthering Heights, Great Expectations, Jane Eyre . . .”

“Oh how wonderful. You must be very proud to have raised such an intelligent daughter.”

Dad grinned. “Jane loves to write. She’d like to become—”

I couldn’t let him say it. Not in front of Devon.

“Dad, we’re holding up the line. Mom and Erik are waiting.”

Mrs. Fairfax turned to them and they both gushed over the house and the property, her books and her career. Erik handed her his business card.

“I’m sure the film rights to your books are all taken, but just in case you’re ever in need of a director . . . Susan is a screenwriter and I’ve directed quite a few films.”

He was all teeth and gleaming spray-tan, but J. E. Fairfax only had eyes for my dad. She nodded, accepting the card, but she kept glancing over at Dad.

“Thanks for the tour, Mrs. Fairfax,” I said, eager to get this over with. I strained on tiptoes to see if I could spot Kitty or Ana in the milling crowd. “We shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

“Nonsense,” J. E. Fairfax said. “It appears you’re the very last guests. And it’s Ms.,” she corrected, “not Mrs. Not since my recent divorce. But please, call me Elle. I’ve always gone by my middle name with friends, and there’s no need for formality among neighbors, now is there?”

She smiled at my father when she said that part, and Dad smiled back, but I shuffled uncomfortably. Somehow, the idea of the Fairfaxes considering themselves our neighbors felt ludicrous. Sure, they might have a Whickett Harbor address, but otherwise, they lived in another universe.

Ms. Fairfax—Elle—turned toward her kids and made a flourish with one hand. “May I present my children,” she said. “Caroline, Devon, and Matthew all go to school with Jane.”

I could feel Devon’s gaze taking in my windblown hair, sea-spray-soaked jacket, and torn overalls. He kept studying me until I glared at him.

“Such beautiful children,” Mom said. “What fun to meet Jane’s friends!”

“Mom,” I groaned, but Elle had already moved on.

“Tell me, Emmett . . . what do you do for a living?”

Without thinking about it, I locked eyes with my mother and we both made the exact same horror-stricken face. Elle had just given Dad an opening to talk about plankton.

Then I caught myself. I would not collude with Mom against Dad.

“I’m a senior research scientist at OSI—that’s the Ocean Science Institute,” Dad said. “I have a doctorate in planktology, but I combine that with general field research as well. I’ve just extended our grant to study the effects of ocean acidification on marine plankton to determine how climate change will disrupt the food chain.”

Devon’s eyes flashed from me to my father. He opened his mouth as if he might be going to say something, but whatever he’d been about to say was eclipsed by his mom’s over-the-top reaction.

“Oh, my word! How fascinating! How noble!”

Noble? Dad?

I tugged at his arm. “Dad, we should go if we’re going to catch one of the tours.”

“Don’t be silly,” Elle said. “I’m happy to give you a personal tour. After all, I feel like we practically know each other since our children got into mischief together.”

Dad blushed. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it! The whole point of this evening is to get to know our neighbors. Isn’t that right, kids?”

Caroline gave a small nod, as if she were royalty at court. “Exactly. I think I’ll join one of the other groups, so as to meet even more of our new friends.”

“Me too,” Matthew piped up. I couldn’t help noticing that when Matthew left, he joined the group that included Kitty. I waved to her, but she was too busy looking dreamily at Matthew as he approached.

I waited for Devon to make his excuse, but he didn’t. He hung back as his mother looped her arm around Dad’s elbow.

“So what exactly is plankton?” Elle asked. “They’re the little creatures that whales eat, correct?”

Mom and I both rolled our eyes. Then I caught myself. Again.

Dad chuckled. “Plankton is the collective name for organisms that drift with the currents. Of course, there are a few species of plankton that can swim, but not strong enough to avoid being carried along by the tide. Independence isn’t their strong suit.” Dad laughed like this was some sort of hilarious joke, and Elle laughed as if Dad were actually funny. Which only encouraged him.

“Of course, most people think plankton is one category, but in fact there’s phytoplankton, zooplankton, bacterioplankton . . . or you could divide them into holoplankton or meroplankton based on their life cycle modes.”

Someone kill me now.

“There’s incredible diversity among plankton since they aren’t defined by taxonomy or size. And yet, these tiny creatures provide almost all of the energy for life at sea. They’re producers, consumers, and recyclers!”

Dad always thought that statement should induce awe in his listeners. The odd thing was, it did seem to produce awe in Devon. He leaned forward, hanging on every word.

“What’s the largest plankton in the ocean?” Devon asked.

“That would be jellyfish,” Dad said. “You’d be surprised how large some jellyfish grow.”

As Dad talked, we walked around the house. Devon asked Dad one question after another while Elle attempted to interrupt in order to point out some historic feature or a painting they’d had shipped from their home in Wales. The whole time Mom and Erik drooled over everything, and Erik kept mentioning his films with only the slightest tie-ins to the actual conversation.

I was convinced the situation couldn’t get any worse, when I heard Dad speak the words I’d dreaded. I’d long since tuned out his impromptu science lecture and I was studying a white marble statue.

“You know, Jane wants to be a writer someday,” Dad said. “This is such a wonderful opportunity for her. Not every aspiring author gets to meet someone who’s published so many successful books.”

Suddenly, plankton didn’t seem so bad. I wanted to melt into the floor as Devon turned to me with the king of all smirks.

“You didn’t tell me you want to be a writer,” he said.

“It’s just a hobby,” I mumbled, but Mom practically fell over herself contradicting me.

“Jane won a Maine Coast writing contest last year. Best short story in her age group. And she’s had two poems published in the Whickett Harbor Gazette. She’s already submitting her work to magazines. Erik and I are hoping she might spend some time in California with us and learn screenwriting. Wouldn’t that be an excellent opportunity, Jane?”

I might have turned around and run—sacrificed the last of my pride for a chance to hide out in Dad’s truck until the tour was over—but Elle jumped in. Now she was all over Dad and me.

“Good for you!” she said. “That’s wonderful, Jane. I love hearing about young people who are serious about writing. Goodness knows my own children want nothing to do with it.”

Beside her, Devon kicked at a loose thread on the carpet.

“Maybe you have some advice for Jane?” Erik prompted.

Despite myself, I sucked in a sharp breath of anticipation. Did she? Something other than write what you know?

“Of course,” Elle gushed. “Jane,” she said, very seriously, squeezing my arm, “you must read everything you possibly can. Nothing prepares a writer better than reading.”

I let out my breath. That was it? I already did that. I tried not to let my disappointment show. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Come, come,” Elle said, “there’s one more painting I want to show you all, and then we’ll visit my office.”

She snaked her arm with Dad’s again as she led him toward a huge painting that took up most of the wall in the hallway. I was about to follow, but I stopped to peer over the railing at the scene below, and that’s when I heard a familiar laugh.

It was Ana’s, coming from the opposite side of the staircase. A small group had just come out of the dining room, and I saw Ana’s blond hair before I noticed anything else. I waved, thinking I’d catch her attention and maybe she’d want to come with us instead. But right then, Dad’s laugh made Ana look up. Elle’s arm was linked with Dad’s, and they were still laughing over something Elle had said. Ana saw them and her eyes seemed to lose their sparkle.

Then I heard Kitty’s voice. “Jane! Over here!”

Nobody objected when I made my way down the spiral staircase to the table that was set up with punch and hors d’oeuvres. Kitty and Matthew were standing together, sipping punch, and when I reached them Kitty hopped up and down.

“Did you see them? It’s so incredible!” She pointed at my father and Elle. “You needed someone for your dad to date and now look! She’s exactly right.”

It was true. Elle was everything I’d wanted for him . . . wealthy, sophisticated, with a great house. But she was also related to Devon.

“Jane’s dad wants to date my mom?” Matthew said. “Cool. She totally needs to meet someone. She’s been depressed since the divorce.”

I chewed on my lower lip.

“Of course, you’ll have to learn to get along with Devon and Caroline,” Kitty mused.

“Trust me,” Matthew said, “they’re not as bad as they seem. Most of the time, anyway.”

“Jane?” Kitty prodded. “Isn’t this great?”

Things were moving way too fast. Before I had time to respond, Mom and Erik made their way down the stairs.

“Trixie!” Mom gushed. “It’s so good to see you again!”

She’d never met Kitty. Not even once. The only reason Mom knew what she looked like was because I’d shown her pictures.

Mom thrust out her phone. “Would you take a photo of me, Erik, and Jane? I want to get a good one of our whole family so I can have it framed.”

Kitty pushed the cell phone back to my mother. “My grandmother won’t let me have a phone, so I don’t know how to work these,” she said coldly.

Mom’s face fell, but Matthew jumped in. “I can take it.” He gave Kitty an encouraging nod. “It’s super easy.”

I could tell Kitty was exasperated that he hadn’t caught on to her lie, but I didn’t blame him. How was Matthew supposed to know my mother’s history with family photos? Reluctantly, I stood between her and Erik, posed beneath a glittering chandelier, but the whole time my eyes were focused above.

On Dad and Elle.