The Sententia: Second Thoughts Part 14

Amy could come back any minute.

It'll only take a minute.

That doesn't sound fun for me.

That was when the phone rang, and I answered it to the sound of Carter laughing. "You really won't let me come say goodnight?"

"You're incorrigible."

"No, you're beautiful, and I haven't seen you all day."

I was also an easy mark. I sighed. And smiled, but he couldn't see that part. "Fine. But I'll meet you outside. Under the tree in half an hour."

When I came out of the bathroom after my shower, he was lying on my bed, grinning exactly like the Ches.h.i.+re Cat. I'd have screamed, but I was only moderately surprised to see him.

"You really are incorrigible," I said as I pulled the towel off my head. My hair fell down with a heavy thunk, dampening the back and shoulders of my robe.

His grin didn't diminish a bit. "And you," he said, "are late." He tapped my alarm clock, which of course read more than half an hour after I told him to meet me. c.r.a.p. "Plus it's freezing out, and your hair is wet."

The great, and not so great, depending on the day, thing about dating Carter was he could easily sneak in with no help from me. Our quirky old building featured a beautiful window conveniently placed in the first floor landing of the back stairwell. It was locked, of course, as was my door, but that was a minor impediment to most Thought Movers, and none at all to Carter. Once he'd seen the locks, he could get in without opening any doors that would either set off the fire alarm or require him to pa.s.s Ms. Kim's apartment.

Now that he was here, it wasn't like I was disappointed to see him. I laid down next to him and snuggled into his open arms. "Thank you for thinking about me."

"I'm always thinking about you."

MORE THAN A minute later, as he played with my hair that was drying in tangles, Carter said, "So, when are you going to ask me?"

"To go home? I didn't exactly invite you in the first place."

"You were late on purpose," he said and tickled my nose with one of my tangles.

"You're delusional."

"You could have kicked me out," he countered.

With a p.r.o.nounced sigh, I elbowed him in the ribs and got up to fix the mess on my head he was only making worse. "When am I going to ask you...?"

"To the Winter Ball."

My hands stilled in their brus.h.i.+ng. The Winter Ball. The Winter Debacle, as I thought of it. I didn't exactly have fond memories of it. This year, it had the added bonus of being held on my birthday. I didn't want to go.

"Who said I was going to?" I joked, except I wasn't joking.

He tipped his head to the side, as if he knew I wasn't playing around. "You had another date in mind?"

"Yes." I told him the truth. "None."

He stood then, turning his perfect bare back and, well, everything to me while looking for various pieces of clothing, and I lost all cognitive abilities. "...stag? I'll miss wearing the tux, but okay."

I shook my head. "Wait, what? No." He was mostly dressed and I was thinking again. "You think I'd go without you? I meant I don't want to go at all."

He looked up from tying his shoes. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"It's your senior year. And your birthday. You should go. We should go."

"So all I can do the whole time is think about last year? No thanks. Ugh!" I concluded, pulling too hard on my brush.

Carter came and sat on the ottoman across from the divan, where I was fighting with my hair. And, really, my feelings. "Hey." He gently removed the brush from my hands and held them. "It's not last year. That's all in the past."

True. "But what about the future?" I wasn't sure what came over me, but every one of my worries, from the real to the insignificant, poured out of me. "Everything just feels so messed up. Amy and Caleb fighting, and I'm afraid she's not going to get elected to the court this year but I will, and I still can't see what's going to happen with you and me, and I'll still be wearing this ugly thing." I held up my cast, another thing making my life more difficult than it should have been. "And I don't even have a dress-"

Carter leaned forward and kissed me, stopping any other complaints I might have come up with. Kisses had their own language, and this one said shhhh. Relax it told me, and I'm here. It spoke to my heart, rather than other places, and my heart thumped in response. When he pulled back, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly while I tipped my head against his chest. He scooped me onto his lap and held me even closer. It would have made more sense to sit on the couch, where I'd been, but still. It was nice.

"Nothing's going to happen to you, remember?" he whispered, hugging me so tightly I almost felt safe.

"You don't know that," I whispered back.

"I do know," he said. "Because you do too. What you saw once, fate realized wasn't for us." We sat together like that until my tension of moments ago started to ebb.

"As for the rest of it," Carter went on, "you can't fix Amy and Caleb's problems. They have to do that." When I started to interrupt, he stopped me, lightly kissing my forehead. "Just listen, okay? Turn off the worry machine for a few minutes. Next, who cares who gets elected to the court? You've both already been nominated and you can't do anything more now. Besides, you'll probably be Queen, not just on the court."

G.o.d I hoped not. Alexis already hated me enough. "That's not helping."

"But it's true. I mean, my girlfriend's going to be prom queen. How sweet is that?"

"Not if I don't go."

"You can wear a dress you already have and we'll get some sparkles or something for your cast." He knocked on it for emphasis. "No one cares about that."

"I'm not the kind of girl who bedazzles her cast. The purple is bad enough." I kind of hated whoever let that happen. I a.s.sumed it had been the doctor or a nurse who chose it, thinking I'd like it, but I a little bit suspected it was Carter, who thought it would be funny. Short of coloring it entirely black, I got my aunt to do some art on it with a black Sharpie after I'd gotten to Mexico.

Carter snickered. "Fine. I'll get you a corsage that covers it."

"I'm not the kind of girl who wears wrist corsages either."

"No. You're the kind of girl who has to make everything difficult."

He tickled me then, and I shoved him, and about when we fell off the ottoman is when Amy opened the door.

"OH, G.o.d." She shut it quickly behind her. "Seriously? And why can't Penrose be the one wearing a robe that's showing, like, everything."

We got up, Carter laughing, and me hiding my blus.h.i.+ng face behind his shoulder. "Hey," I squeaked. I cleared my throat. "Hey. You're back kind of early."

"I'm not, really." She dropped her bag by her desk and went about getting ready for bed like Carter wasn't even there. "You just obviously haven't looked at a clock in a while." She ducked into the bathroom while I did what I obviously hadn't done in a while. She was right. It was later than I realized. "And also," she continued, voice floating out the open door, "you could have texted. Or put out the ribbon you insisted we needed."

Carter interjected, "I take it the coast is clear now?"

"Ah, good," Amy said, the words garbled by her toothbrush. She poked her head back into the room. "So you're actually on your way out. At least that explains why your shoes are still on. I was a little worried. Night, Penrose." She shut the door behind her.

"Night, Penrose," I echoed and he kissed me.

"I love you, Young." Just before he slipped out, he turned his head back and said, "And pick a nice dress, okay?"

"I'm not going," I replied, but he'd already shut the door.

Chapter Sixteen.

The morning of my eighteenth birthday started with a surprise. At the beginning of second hour, I was summoned to the Administration building. I hoped it was something about reviewing my increased permissions, now that I was technically a legal adult. Some other seniors could leave campus on weekends and I thought that would be nice.

But it was actually something much bigger for which I found myself in Headmaster Stewart's office for the first time since the beginning of the school year. Dr. Stewart and I saw each other, of course, at Honor Board meetings and other things around campus, but you didn't usually come to her office unless you were in trouble. Practically all of the staff wished me a happy birthday as I climbed the stairs, and Dr. Stewart met me at the door to her suite.

"Happy birthday, Ms. Young," she said as she ushered me inside. It was a lot warmer than the way she might have said it the year before. She gestured for me to help myself to coffee from the service waiting on her sideboard.

From her collection, I picked a cup patterned with wide cobalt stripes and pewter flowers. Every time I visited the office I used a different one. If I could be said to have a favorite thing about Dr. Stewart, it would be the stacks of antique teacups that were just one of the ways she embraced Northbrook's old-world charm. She asked me about college as I stirred in my cream.

"Well, I haven't gotten my acceptances yet. It's still a little early for those."

The headmaster regarded me with an expression that seemed to say only with great effort was she containing a sigh. "Elaine, really. I admire your humility, but you must know your acceptance at nearly any school worth attending is guaranteed. Your performance here has been exemplary, as are your references. Senator Astor's name alone is enough to ensure your admittance, and I'm well aware of the personal interest he has in your success."

As always, I had to remind myself to stand up straight when I was around Dr. Stewart. Even her praise could be as intimidating as her scrutiny. "Thank you," I said, trying not to stammer. "I guess if everything goes okay, I'm probably going to choose between Baltimore and Boston, but maybe New York. They were always my favorites."

She nodded, unsurprised. "I'm sure Senator Astor will be pleased to hear it, and that you'll make the best choice." After a brief pause she continued in a softer voice. "You could do great things, Lainey. I think you will."

I barely knew what to say to that, so once more I told her, "Thank you." I hoped I didn't disappoint her, disappoint everyone. The truth was, I didn't want to be great. Maybe I lacked ambition or drive or my life was too easy or whatever. But what I wanted was to have a small life, be a good person, and be happy. Deal in antiques and then, someday, get married, maybe have kids or at least be a really good aunt to Amy's.

Dr. Stewart interrupted my thoughts by saying, "Well, now, let's not keep your guest waiting."

"Guest?"

She almost, just barely smiled as she opened the door to her inner office and stepped away. Behind it was my Uncle Martin. He was wearing an enormous smile along with his typical suit and tie, and when he opened his arms for me, I flew into them.

"What are you doing here?!" I said into his shoulder. I couldn't believe he hadn't told me he was coming. Much like my aunt, "Uncle" Martin wasn't technically my uncle at all. But he was family. Before the accident, he'd been my father's financial manager and, more importantly, his friend.

"I thought it would be fun to surprise you," he replied. "Happy birthday, Lainey. It's so nice to see you." He stepped back to look at me and gently inspected my cast. "I see Tessa's gotten a hold of this."

"For sure the only thing I'll miss about it when it's gone is the art."

My uncle chuckled. "I like the purple on you, though I don't suppose you do. I hope you've chosen a lovely dress to coordinate with it for this evening."

"I guess Dr. Stewart told you about the Winter Ball," I said. She'd left the office for our privacy, but I dropped my voice for the next part anyway. "But, well...I didn't actually want to go this year anyway, so now that you're here, we don't have to! Carter and I will take you to dinner!"

Uncle Martin led me over to the chairs in front of the headmaster's desk while I rambled. This was perfect. Now I didn't have to go to the Ball. Carter would be disappointed, and probably Amy too, but I knew they'd understand. Plus, Carter would love spending time with my uncle.

But that wasn't what was going to happen. "My dear," Uncle Martin said. "I have no intention of keeping you from your Winter Ball. It's your senior year-you should enjoy all the events that come with it." When I started to protest, he held up a hand. "And though I am here to wish you a wonderful birthday, there's more than that-there's business, too. You're eighteen today, Lainey. An adult. My time as executor of your trust has officially come to an end."

Wow. That hadn't even occurred to me. "I..." didn't really know what to say.

In truth, I didn't think a lot about money. For one, thanks to my parents, I was lucky enough not to have to. My allowance had always been generous, maybe even extravagant, and more than enough for pretty much anything I wanted or needed. I'd never spent much time thinking about this day, when all the money in reserve for me would become unrestrictedly mine. I couldn't say I'd looked forward to it; I'd surely have given it all up to have my parents here to celebrate with me.

But they weren't, and my life was what it was. Uncle Martin reached for my hand.

"Would that it were different," he said, echoing my thoughts, "and your father himself were here instead of me in his place, but congratulations, Lainey, you're an heiress."

I still didn't know what to say, so I leaned over and hugged him again. When I finally found a response, it was simply, "I'm just glad you came."

"Just doing my job," he joked and I squeezed him tighter.

From there, it was oddly formal, and easy to think of as distant and apart from myself. This thing I was doing, signing papers and initialing clauses and accepting a card printed with access codes. It was business. It was me retaining one Martin Schearer as my personal financial manager at nothing less than his usual rates.

Dr. Stewart joined us to serve as witness, along with the effusive woman from the front desk who usually served me tea but was also the school's notary. It amazed me that someone who worked with teenagers and Dr. Stewart all day could always be so jubilant, and I liked her even more for it. She seemed charmed by my uncle as she stamped and sealed our doc.u.ments, which was hardly surprising. He was polite and polished, the very definition of dapper, an educated, wealthy, and, also, gay man closer to sixty than fifty. He charmed everyone, especially women over forty. I adored him.

When the business was concluded, I was excused from the rest of the already abbreviated day of cla.s.ses. I took my financial manager to lunch. It was early enough, so we went to Dad's. Breakfast was their specialty, but during the week they served sandwiches with soup, chips, and a pickle too. I knew Uncle Martin would love it there, and that Mercy would love him as much as everyone else.

"E-laine!" she cried when we came through the door, using my full name and an extra-heavy accent for effect. The dining room was about half-full and split between people having late breakfast or early lunch. "I know you ain't skipping cla.s.ses because it's the very day of the dance, but what're you doing here?"

I laughed. "I take it Carter came in this morning?" He also had a rare day off today-and tomorrow too.

"He did." She bustled over to hug me. "But it's good to see you too. And who've you brought this time?" she added, eying my uncle, and his suit, with interest. Possibly no patron ever had worn a suit like my uncle's to Dad's Diner.

"Martin Schearer," my uncle interjected, taking Mercy's hand into his own for a warm shake. "Lainey's uncle of sorts, and also, though I know she'll protest, the man here to take her to lunch for her birthday. It's a pleasure to meet you; I've heard so much."

Mercy eyed him even more. "Well aren't you a delight. First the senator, now you. Our Elaine certainly brings the best dates to the diner." She turned her scrutiny on me. "And I wondered if you'd mention the birthday. Thank you, but don't worry, Mr. Martin Schearer. Lunch will be on the house, birthday girl."

From the back, Dad called, "Order UP! And happy birthday, Lainey!"

All things considered, this hadn't been the worst of my birthdays so far. I couldn't stop smiling as we chose an empty table in the back, actually the same table I'd shared with Senator Astor what felt like both forever and no time at all ago. I told my uncle as much as we sat down.

"Speaking of," he said. "I have an envelope for you he asked me to pa.s.s along. I momentarily forgot about it during all our business this morning." When I looked at him with surprise, he said, "Have I told you how Dan's persuaded me to join the board of the Astor Arts program?"

"Uh, no, you didn't mention it. Sounds perfect for you, though." It felt slightly strange, or ironic maybe, that the man I'd always considered my uncle was now on a first name basis, and joining the boards of charities, with the man who was actually my uncle. Aunt Tessa had introduced them, of course.

But I really couldn't think of someone better to help direct the Astor Arts charity than Uncle Martin. They funded youth arts programs across the country and provided grants for working artists early in their careers. Aunt Tessa had told Dan and me during our dinner in Baltimore how she'd actually been preparing to apply for a grant before my parents' accident. After a moment of mulling it over, I told my uncle, "You know what? I'd like to make a donation. That can be your first official act as my financial manager."

"Consider it done," he said. After a pause he added, "He looks quite like your father you know, the senator."

"I know." Boy, did I know.

"I'd seen him before, glimpses in the political news, but even with Tessa's warning, seeing him in person was...a bit like meeting a ghost. One I miss very much."