Father Knows Best Part 7

I hit Send, then waited.

Mere moments later, my phone made that telltale blip.

Lila wrote: How old???

Leave it to Lila. Just because I crushed on one way-old guy didn't mean I hadn't learned my lesson-shees.h.!.+ I texted back: Not Bobby old. Bobby as in Bobby Slade, my embarra.s.sing older crush from last year. But hey, the embarra.s.sment eased, we were friends now that he was recording music with my dad, and he'd gotten me this job, so I suffered that trauma for a good reason, at least!

Then I added: Looks like way younger version of Taye Diggs. Way.

Lila texted: Just go! And try 2 get a picture of him if U can.

I blurted a laugh, then slapped my palm over my mouth. I glanced over, but he hadn't seemed to notice me. So I keyed back: Right. Turn me in2 a stalker. Thanks.I hesitated, then added, how RU?

Her response took a bit longer. When it came, it said: I still don't know. Afraid 2 ask. I miss U.

Me: Miss U2. More L8R. ciao.

Lila: With a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and cut through the crowds toward my driver. I stopped in front of him. "Hi."

"h.e.l.lo." He paused, his eyebrows raising. "You Caressa?"

I smiled. "That's me."

He extended his hand, and I shook it, feeling all grown up and giddy and stupid all at once. "I'm Thomas."

"You're my driver, right?"

He laughed, this deep full sound that made you want to laugh right along with him. "I'm going to drive you to the Rosenthals' house, yes. But, to clarify, I'm your bodyguard."

My jaw must've dropped. I don't really know.

Thomas goes, "Your dad didn't tell you he'd hired a bodyguard?"

After a sec, I remembered to answer. "Nuh-uh."

He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Well, don't worry. I promise not to cramp your style, but those shows you're working on end pretty late at night, and Tibby Lee didn't want his daughter hailing cabs or hitting the subway." He winked. "I'm just here if you need someone to run to, okay?"

"Oh. Okay."

Cue in the romantic music.

Mr. Thomas the Hot (and too old for me-I know, I know, I know!) was going to be glued to my side all summer long. I think I might've sighed, which was so inappropriate. I didn't care, though.

Glancing around, I saw a savvy-looking grandma-type from Somewhere Other Than New York standing against the wall near us. I held up a finger to let Thomas know I'd be right back, then approached her. "Ma'am?" I said.

She pointed at her chest as if to ask, "Moi?"

I nodded, bestowing my winningest smile. "Can you do me a favor? I'm in New York for the summer to work on a Broadway show, and I just arrived. Would you mind taking a picture of me and my bodyguard? For posterity?"

"A Broadway show! Why, how exciting," she said, her eyes lighting up. "I'd love to, dear. And when you're famous, I'll tell people I took your photo in LaGuardia Airport." She pushed away from the wall and took my camera phone from me, studying it.

"It's that b.u.t.ton on the side." I showed her. "Pretty much point and shoot."

"Alrighty."

I moved next to Thomas and faced the woman, smiling.

He glanced down at me, confused. "What's up?"

"She's going to take a picture of us. A keepsake."

"Ah." Thomas draped his arm across my shoulders and flashed this unbelievably s.e.xy (too old) smile. He looked like the star, not me. And he was mine for the summer!

Snap!

"Can you take one more, please?" I asked.

The lady moved closer, focusing on us from the shoulders up.

Snap!

Thomas and I broke apart, and I moved forward to the lady. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure." She handed me the phone, then extracted a pen and a wrinkled receipt from her giant handbag. "Now, what's your name, dear?"

"Caressa Thibodoux," I said. "And yours?"

"Oh, who cares about me," she said, flapping a hand. "I'm just a tourist. But you! Why, you're an up-and-coming celebrity."

I laughed.

"Anyway, it's Esther. Esther Newberg." She aimed her finger at me and grinned. "And I'll be looking for you in People and US Weekly, Miss Thibodoux."

Everything around me bubbled, like a freshly poured gla.s.s of 7-Up. Esther made me feel like such a star, I didn't have the heart to tell her I was strictly a behind-the-scenes part of Broadway, and unpaid, to boot!

Floating on the effervescence, I returned to Thomas's side.

"Ready?" he asked, clearly amused by my excitement.

"Definitely," I said. I couldn't wait to get to Tribeca and explore. We gathered my luggage and made small talk as we carted it to Thomas's Town Car. He stowed everything in the trunk while I climbed in the backseat and stealthily texted the photos Esther had taken of us to Lila, along with the message: News-he's my bodyguard, not just my driver. I get 2 spend all summer w/ him.

As we exited the airport property, my cell bleeped.

Thomas glanced back in his rearview mirror.

"Sorry," I told him, waggling my BlackBerry where he could see it. "Incoming text."

He chuckled. "Guess I'm gonna have to get used to that sound, right?"

I giggled, then opened the message from Lila.

It read: OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah. Exactly how I felt.

Lila: He does look older tho, C.

She was right, of course. Definitely over twenty-one. But it didn't matter, because guys weren't on my radar at the moment. Still, who had expected Thomas? Harmless eye candy, and I got to hang with him for the whole summer!

I texted: Older, 4-sure. Don't worry, not looking 4 any more Bobby Slade-esque luurve, just having fun, fun, fun. I slipped my BlackBerry into my bag and grinned to myself.

New York City, watch out! Caressa Thibodoux's in town.

Chapter Six.

Meryl I slid the antique cash register drawer closed, enjoying its familiar coin jangle, and handed the customer her change. "Here you go. Be sure to use two droppers full of the green tea extract in an eight-ounce gla.s.s of water."

"Thank you. I will," she said with a smile.

"Come back and see us!" I called out as she headed toward the door, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt. I don't know exactly why I'd been worrying about this lately except that it seemed like business might be slowing down. To say I loved my job at Inner Power was a gross understatement. Everything about it fit me-the serenity, the size of the store, the products we sold, the women I worked for.

But we'd been deathly slow all day thanks to a steady, chilly rainstorm hanging low over White Peaks, and weak sales always set me on edge. I guess people felt they could only get metaphysical in good weather or something. In any case, the lack of foot traffic had me tightening my shoulders and searching my brain for ways to bring in more business. There had to be something. Reese, one of the owners, had sensed my tension earlier and asked about it, but I put it down to missing Caressa. Which I did, but that wasn't the real reason I'd been stressing. The truth is, I don't want to lose this job.

I've been with Inner Power for two years now, and I can't think of another place in White Peaks I'd rather work. But if we kept having low sales and zero foot traffic, there was a distinct possibility Reese and Kelly might have to let me go. Not that they'd ever mentioned that, but we studied economics in school. I'm not blind to the realities of small business.

I don't know...maybe I was overreacting.

Maybe I wasn't.

Maybe I needed to calm down. Meditate. Do a yoga pose, or have a little of that green tea extract myself.

Still, I glanced out the front display window, silently willing customers to simply open the door. Was that so hard? The store is cozy and clean, filled with treasures. Once they come in, I guarantee I can sell them just about anything we stock. Sales, as it turns out, is one of my latent talents. I guess people tend to trust earnest, freckle-faced, redheaded nerd girls. Or maybe they can sense how much I believe in our products. I don't know.

The rain continued to pelt the street, turning everything a hazy gray. It pinged on the roof, steamed the front door. And no one came in. Dang.

With a sigh, I picked up the ostrich feather duster intending to keep myself busy by making the shop sparkle. Anything's better than sitting here fretting about the possibility of impending unemployment.

I headed toward the display of crystals, and that's when I saw her. Jennifer Hamilton.

Again.

She sat on that same park bench where I'd seen her the first time, the day she'd told me she was pregnant. Today, she sat hunched in an oversized gray hoodie she wouldn't be caught dead in normally. But obviously nothing was normal in her world at the moment. She didn't have on her usual full face of makeup, and her chunky blond highlights were growing out, exposing a wide alley of mousy brown straight up the middle of her head. Sopping wet at this point. She looked so not Jennifer. So alone, and it made me sad. Maybe she wanted some alone time, but come on. Out there? The rain was really was coming down.

Ever have one of those internal struggle moments?

Count me in, right then.

A pang of that signature Meryl Morgenstern compa.s.sion made me forget that, oh yeah, she hated me and my best friends. I tucked the feather duster under one arm and bit my pinky nail, warring with myself over the whole convoluted situation. I didn't know what to do. Fact: Jennifer Hamilton is Lila's archenemy now that Lila and Dylan are an item. Not only that, but Jennifer has treated me like a leper since the first day of middle school for absolutely no reason other than the fact that I don't fit her mold of someone "worthy." I'd count that as fact number two.

Still, she's pregnant, friendless, and sitting outside in a chilly rainstorm hanging her head. Dejected. Lost.

Moral dilemma.

What was I to do? Turn away? Reach out? The whole thing was awful.

Some might say her predicament is pure karma in action, that Jennifer deserves what's befallen her for all the evil things she's perpetrated over the years. Maybe so, but I just can't buy into that kind of nanner-nanner meanness. I don't believe in paybacks. What good do they do?

It only took me a moment to get clear on my decision.

"Reese?" I called toward the back as I set the duster aside and grabbed my rain jacket off of the coat rack adjacent to the door. Reese and her partner (in life and business) Kelly had started Inner Power together, and I loved them like second moms, even though they aren't old enough to be my moms really.

"Yeah, hon?" The familiar rhythm of the adding machine permeated the shop as background. Reese is old-fas.h.i.+oned when it comes to tallying up sales. So cool.

"I'm going to run outside for a minute if that's okay."

"It's pouring, you know."

"I have a slicker," I said. I crossed to the back of the shop and peeked my head into the office. "I'll watch the front door. If any customers show up, I'll follow them in so you don't have to interrupt your work, okay?"

She smiled. Her long dark hair was wound into a messy knot at the back of her head with an ink pen stuck through it. "That's fine. Try and stay dry."

"Right," I replied in a wry tone.

The bell jangled over the door as I exited. I grimaced at the tiny bullets of rain that immediately pelted my face, then lifted the hood of my bright yellow slicker over my head and tucked my chin into my chest. The pavement had that chalky rain smell, which I usually loved, but to be honest, right then I couldn't enjoy it. I was concerned for Jennifer. I was concerned that Lila would hate me for being concerned.

Concern, concern, concern.

I know, I'm a sap. A doormat. A sucker.

Bottom line, Jennifer hates me, so why should I care?

That was the Great Imponderable.

The thing is, if I were in her predicament-not that I ever would be-I'd want someone to reach out. Period. Her fair-weather friends obviously didn't want anything to do with her now that her life had gone from wild popularity to sad statistic, and she didn't seem to have anyone else. I mean, her mom wasn't even sitting there with her. It just seemed so wrong to me.

After looking both ways at the curb, I jogged across the desolate street, my shoes slapping up sprays of water that soaked my socks and the ankles of my jeans. On the other side, I sat on the bench next to Jennifer without saying a word, mostly because I didn't know what to say. I huddled into myself, stuffing my cold hands into my pockets. For a minute, we stayed that way, tight from the chill, awkward from our not-so-pleasant history.

Finally, she sniffed. "What do you want?"

"Are you okay?"