Sunset Island - Sunset Secrets Part 2

She had, however, gone through two of the bottles of wine already. Lately she'd been treating herself to a gla.s.s of wine at bedtime. It helped her relax and fall asleep, and took her mind off the hodgepodge of questions that seemed to creep in whenever she let down her guard: Kurt, the Peace Corps, school, and most of all the constant tension in her family. Frankly, all of it made her sick sometimes.

Emma opened a bottle of chardonnay she'd been saving for a special occasion, poured a gla.s.s, and took it with her to change for bed. After slipping into her favorite Chinese silk pajamas, Emma walked back over the lush oyster-sh.e.l.l- colored carpet to the living room, where she flicked on her favorite cla.s.sical station. She savored the wine. This is definitely helping to clear my thoughts, she said to herself.

She now considered her father's offer from a new perspective. Wouldn't spring break on Sunset Island and a romantic rendezvous with Kurt be improved by a snappy new convertible? At the height of the previous summer's relations.h.i.+p, Emma would have said that Kurt was way too down to earth to be impressed by something as superficial as a new car. Then Diana De Witt had whisked him off to New York for a dream week- end on her bankroll, and Emma had learned a bitter truth: even people who insist they aren't influenced by money can fall prey to the lure of the almighty dollar.

Of course, if Kurt was still enthralled by that kind of display, Emma really didn't want him.

Still, it might not hurt to make a good impres- sion. Though she'd dated a few different guys since she'd begun college, no one could compare to Kurt. Just the thought of his blue eyes and the memory of his arms around her made her feel that her heart was still imprisoned by the magic of the previous summer.

But it was a scary way to feel. It made her feel too vulnerable. And no matter what Kurt's letter said, there was always the possibility that she cared about him more than he cared about her. So if she showed up in an incredibly hot new car, just maybe it would make it seem that her life without him was more exciting than it really had been.

Surprised to see that she'd just about finished her wine, Emma went to the refrigerator for a touch more. She had pulled the cork and was lifting the bottle when she recalled hearing-or had she read it somewhere?-that drinking alone was a warning sign of alcoholism. Ridiculous, she thought, / hardly drink at all! Still, she was careful to fill the gla.s.s only halfway this time.

Her parents had never thought twice about ordering her a gla.s.s of wine at any of their fancy restaurants or resorts. And certainly it had been available at all of the parties they had attended.

Screwed up as her mother and father were, Emma reflected, they were not alcoholics. When Emma's childhood companion Trent Hayden-Bishop, had deemed to make up for the trouble he had caused her on Sunset Island the summer before, sending her a very convincing ID stating her age as twenty-one, Emma hadn't hesitated to slip it into the inner pocket of her wallet. The fact was, people were generally impressed by her poise and obvious wealth, and a.s.sumed she was of legal drinking age anyway. They rarely asked her for identification.

Savoring each sip (she'd have to remember this vintage, it really was good), she settled back on the couch to think through her travel plans. She could always make a very, very short visit to her father, pick out a car, then scoop up Sam on the way north through Orlando. Wouldn't Sam just love a road trip in a brand-new, to-die-for con- vertible?

The thought of looking cool, rich, and carefree in Sam's eyes pleased Emma somehow. Sam was so good at grabbing the reins of her life and galloping ahead. Emma had to admit she envied her for that.

Suddenly she couldn't wait for the scheduled conference call with her friends. She was going to take up her dear daddy's offer, and she was going to plan the entire trip!

Emma took one more sip, set her winegla.s.s carefully on one of the hand-woven coasters she'd bought to protect her new mahogany coffee table, and reached for the phone.

"It's confession time, Ms. Goody Two Shoes!"

It was early the next morning, and Emma's voice was teasing over the phone, but Carrie felt like her brain wouldn't kick in until she'd had a shower and two or three cups of coffee.

"Huh?" was her sterling response.

"I must have left you four messages last night!"

Emma cried, "then I finally gave up somewhere past the witching hour. So was it Josh, or Billy, or someone new?"

Carrie cleared her throat and wiped her eyes blearily with the back of her hand. "As a matter of fact, I was in the darkroom until seven, the library until it closed at eleven, and downstairs in the study room until almost two."

"Yale's tough, huh?" Emma said compa.s.sion- ately.

"Nothing I can't handle," Carrie a.s.sured her.

"So what were these frantic phone calls about?"

"A great idea I wanted to run by you and Sam,"

Emma said eagerly. "I finally found Sam after eleven. I was bursting by that time!"

"So what is it?" Carrie asked.

"Could I interest you in a plan that would take us to Sunset Island in high style?"

"Sure," ventured Carrie, "let's hear it."

Quickly Emma filled Carrie in on her conver- sation with her father. She'd planned on asking for some words of wisdom about her mother's call, too-Carrie was so level-headed-but Emma decided that with Carrie working so hard at school, it really wasn't fair to ask for free mental- health counseling.

"A new car!" Carrie cried. "That's great! You mean you're going to drive it to Sunset Island?"

"We're all taking it to Sunset Island-that is, if you guys agree," Emma answered. "Here's the plan. First I'll fly to Palm Beach and pick up the car, then I'll drive to Orlando and get Sam."

"You mean you'll pick up the car and meet Valerie," Carrie corrected Emma. "You left out that detail." Emma had told Carrie about her father's girlfriend months earlier, and Carrie knew that the last thing Emma wanted to do was to actually meet the woman.

"Silly me," Emma said in a flat voice. "Did I forget to mention that trivial thing?"

"Maybe it won't be as bad as you think," Carrie said. "Maybe she's . . . nice."

"And maybe she's loathsome," Emma responded.

"My father put her on the phone with me once.

Carrie, she squeaked."

"Bad sign," Carrie said solemnly.

"I sort of wish Sam could come to Palm Beach with me," Emma admitted. "I don't really want to face Valerie alone-but she can't get away from Disney World any earlier."

"Just as well," said Carrie. "Sam is not known for her tact, so she might just stick her foot in her mouth and make the whole thing worse. On the other hand, maybe Valerie will turn out to be a decent person."

"There you go," Emma quipped, "being nice and giving people the benefit of the doubt. You've got to stop that."

Carrie laughed. "But maybe she really is nor- mal!"

"Right," Emma scoffed. "She's only a few years older than we are. Can you see yourself marrying an insecure guy old enough to be your father?"

"Not really," Carrie admitted.

"I rest my case," Emma said. "Valerie is defi- nitely in it for the bucks, and it makes me sick."

Carrie sensed the conversation drifting into rough waters. Fortunately she was adept at steering a smoother course. "So, anyway, where do I fit into this travelogue of yours?"

"Of course we can pick you up in New Haven, but I wish you'd think about meeting us in Orlando. Sam thinks we should check out Day- tona on the way up."

"I wish," said Carrie wistfully. "But I don't see how I'm going to meet all my deadlines as it is.

You'll just have to give me the gory details once you get here. Which, by the way, will be when?"

Since Emma started spring break one week ahead of Carrie, they agreed to meet in New Haven the following Friday. They decided on an early lunch at the Hummingbird, one of Carrie's favorite near-campus cafes. That would give Carrie the morning to tidy up loose ends, and the trio could still make Boston for an overnight stay at Emma's apartment. The following day would put them easily into Portland with time to catch the ferry to Sunset Island.

"We'll arrive in time to see the sunset on the island." Carrie sighed longingly. "It's hard to believe this is really going to happen!" She glanced over at her clock. Eight-thirty! She still had to shower, dress, and make a stop at the Yale Daily News office before her first cla.s.s. "I've got to fly, Em!"

"I can't wait to see you!" Emma told Carrie.

"Me, too," Carrie added. She hung up the phone.

Carrie jumped off the bed, her usual efficient self, but suddenly a feeling of loneliness and sadness. .h.i.t her in such a wave that she had to sit back down again. Get a grip, Carrie, she coun- seled herself, commanding her legs to carry her to the showers.

As the steaming water ran over her body, Carrie thought about how much she missed her two best friends. But she also thought about how much they didn't know about her life. They simply had no concept of the intensity of the life she was leading now. It was a far cry from the, seemingly carefree existence they'd enjoyed as au pairs the summer before.

To all outward appearances, Carrie's freshman year at Yale was a complete success. Privately, she felt like a juggler, wondering how much longer she could keep this many plates in the air at once. Her long-distance romance with Billy seemed to intensify with each separation, just as seeing Josh almost every day on campus was creating new and stronger bonds. And jealousy was creeping in from all sides of the triangle.

While Carrie's dream of becoming a photojour- nalist was moving along on schedule, the burden of success was beginning to weigh on her. Win- ning a statewide high school photography contest at the end of her senior year had started opening doors, and her summer on Sunset Island had taken her to new heights in her chosen field. Her backstage pictures of the local band Flirting with Danger had been picked up by Hard Rock News.

And the Templetons, who had hired her as an au pair, had turned out to be the family of legendary rock idol Graham Perry. Respect for Carrie's talents had led Graham to request her as his photographer for an interview in Rock On.

Now her coveted position as freshman photog- rapher for the renowned Yale Daily News was making her name known around New Haven as a talent on the rise. Clifton Hughes, the newspaper editor, had even sent her to New York on two occasions to cover theater productions involving recent Yale alumni. The trips had been grueling and had required a couple of all-nighters in the study room to keep up with her coursework, but Hughes had been highly laudatory of the resulting photos.

Carrie turned her face into the spray of the shower and let the water pulse over her head. In spite of studying at least as hard as anyone in her dorm, she was not altogether pleased with her academic performance. Though her first-term grades had been excellent, they had fallen short of the straight-A average she'd been able to maintain in high school.

"My heart jus' bleeds for ya, girl," her friend Mona had quipped on the day grades were posted.

"What'd you expect, a cakewalk? This here's Yale, babe."

Mona lived in the room across the hall from Carrie's. She was a National Merit Scholar from Atlanta, a freshman representative on the Minority Council, and handled a part-time job in an off- campus clothing boutique as well. Mona was, in her own words, "bi-dialectal," and could whip into a metropolitan black dialect at the drop of a hat.

"Here you are, a published photographer,"

Mona had said, "with not one, but two studly dudes fallin' at your feet. You're smart, you come from a good family, you have rich, excitin' friends to go to exclusive islands with-your life is the pits, girl!"

"In other words, I should get over it," Carrie had said ruefully.

"You don't learn to chill out, you gonna grow up to be a stereotypical uptight white woman,"

Mona had told her with a twinkle in her eye.

In some part of her mind Carrie knew that even though Mona was teasing her, she was serious, too. It's just that everything seems so ...

overwhelming sometimes! she thought.

She shut off the shower and returned to her room.

"Oh my G.o.d, I'm a moose," she murmured as she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall. She pulled her well-worn terry-cloth bath- robe tight around her, but then took it off and climbed back into bed for a few minutes to contemplate the situation. She could hear Mona's voice in her head, telling her she was nowhere close to being fat. Unfortunately, I know the truth, Carrie silently answered the voice. She had gained over fifteen pounds since she'd started college.

She pulled the covers up over her head.

It was all so terrible, so scary, so out of control!

The form-fitting wardrobe she had finally gotten up the nerve to wear had moved to the rear of her closet, and she was back to wearing loose, baggy clothing.

The cause for the weight gain was no mystery to her: her days were so hectic that she often missed scheduled meals in the dining hall. In- stead, she found herself buying junk food, meals and snacks that could be eaten quickly over textbooks or outside the darkroom. Whether she needed to calm down or power up her energies, eating seemed to work.

She was aware that food was becoming a crutch. Just last night, she'd managed to eat an entire medium pizza by herself in the confines of the study room. In spite of how much work she accomplished, she'd gone to bed feeling totally out of control. For Carrie, who was used to being totally in control, the feeling was terrifying.

To make matters worse, she had financial anxieties. The answering machine for the phone in her room had been a necessary extravagance for her newspaper work, but she couldn't really justify the expense of meals outside her meal contract. She felt trapped in a vicious cycle: stress led to eating wrong and eating more, which led to spending money; worry about money only led to more stress. It's not Sunset Island!

Carrie thought ruefully to herself.

Carrie's family, although fairly well off, was struggling to meet the costs of Yale tuition and living expenses. Carrie's parents had agreed to pay for her first two years at Yale, in hopes that Carrie could qualify for partial help from schol- ars.h.i.+ps or student loans to finish her degree. In addition, she was expected to meet half her monthly expenses, which should have been nom- inal, considering room and board were included in the deal with her parents.

Any combination of high grades, continued work with the school paper, and outside freelance photography could keep her at Yale without depleting the family college fund, which Carrie's four siblings would eventually need as well. But at this point there were so many factors and so many unknowns that Carrie sometimes felt she was in the first mile of a marathon, and already feeling winded.

A light knock on the door pulled her from the tangle of her thoughts.

"Hope n.o.body's poutin' in there, 'cause Santa Claus is right outside the door," came the melo- dious voice of Mona.

Pulling on her robe, Carrie opened the door to see Mona holding a clothes hanger swathed in the trademark print dust cover of Fables, the bou- tique where she worked.

"And don't you go gettin' all soggy on me-I still owe you for the pics you took of my family while they were here. I've been watchin' this since the day you tried it on, and when they slashed the price, I pounced."

Carrie knew immediately what was inside the garment bag, and was flushed with grat.i.tude at Mona's thoughtfulness. Slipping the garment from its wrapping, she held up the raspberry-colored silk jacket that was cut full in the shoulders, narrowing at the hips. Carrie had been eyeing it since the early spring fas.h.i.+ons had arrived at Fables.

Thigh-length, with scalloped side vents, the jacket was beautiful and feminine and would add tremendous versatility to Carrie's wardrobe. She could wear it with jeans, or she could wear it over a skirt for something dressier. Now she found herself wondering if the cut was full enough to hide what Mona called her "curves" and what she thought of as her "bulges."

Holding up the jacket for inspection in the mirror, Carrie had to admit the color flattered her chestnut hair and brown eyes.

"It'll look great with just about everything you own," Mona said. "Unless, of course, you were planning to spend the semester in that bathrobe."

"Yeow!" exclaimed Carrie, remembering the time.

"See you 'round the camp-i," laughed Mona, making for the door.

Carrie stopped her with a gentle touch on the arm. "Thanks, Mona. I really mean it, you're a doll."

"Yeah, yeah, and a real Georgia peach, too,"

sang Mona, but she grinned broadly and blew Carrie a little kiss before disappearing into her room.

Hurriedly Carrie hung the new jacket in her closet and pulled on her oversized gray cabled sweater with her black stirrup pants and black boots. Drab, she thought, trying to picture herself looking bright and slender in the raspberry- colored jacket. I wish I could peel off about ten pounds before this vacation.

In less than two weeks, she'd be seeing Billy.

In fact, Emma and Sam would be here a week from Friday! They always teased her about her weight worries. Emma, pert and pet.i.te, actually liked small portions of healthy foods and had never had a weight problem in her life. And Sam, who ate like a horse without seeming to gain an ounce, could probably carry an extra fifteen pounds without it showing on her long frame. It occurred to her, too, that neither of her friends could relate to her financial concerns. In Sam's eyes she was well off, and Emma simply couldn't fathom money problems.

Maybe if I don't eat anything at all for the next week, I can save some money and lose weight, too, she thought as she left her room. Even as she had the thought she knew the plan was ridicu- lous. For one thing, she knew herself. As soon as she got really hungry all self-control would fly out the window.

"Hi, Carrie," a girl called from across the hall.

Carrie smiled at Sarah Lovett as she walked by her. Sarah was in her biology lab, and she was enviably thin. Even Josh had admitted that he found Sarah very attractive. Sure, Carrie thought, she weighs maybe ninety pounds.

And then Carrie remembered something that had happened only a few days earlier.