“Ahh, L.A., the traffic capital of the world,” Dad sighed. The van chugged along the freeway as if we were dragging a load of bricks behind us. The CD player hadn’t worked when we’d first bought the van from the weasley-faced car salesman, but Dad had managed to get it working with the help of a paper clip. Naturally, we listened to Black Thunder. They were a bit too heavy metal and rock and roll for me but then Black Thunder was before my time.
As usual, Dad drummed his fingers on the steering wheel keeping beat with the song. Occasionally, he used his knee to steer so that he could use both hands on his imaginary drum set. After a few minutes of his drum solo, he reached forward and turned down the volume. “You know, Edie, if you get any bad feeling about this once you get there—”
“I know, Dad. Mom already gave me the call right away talk.”
“Good. Just remember.”
“Dad, I plan to send the money home for you—”
“Oh no you don’t, kiddo. That is your money. You can deposit it right into that savings account Grandma left you.” As desperate as my parents always were for money, they’d never touched the two hundred dollars my grandmother had left me before she died.
“I want you to use it for Sophie and Janie. You can’t say no when it’s for them.”
“Janie and Sophie will be fine. Save it for college. Besides, I’ve got a few good prospects coming my way.” My dad always had a few good prospects but a dismal few good offers.
He grew silent. The only sound was the occasional cough from the engine and Nicky King belting out the words to his hit song, Angel Tears.
“You know, Edie, I haven’t been the world’s best dad.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“No, seriously. I know I’ve made some mistakes, and I haven’t provided very well for you.”
“Dad, remember that time we found that old bike in the dumpster and you spent the whole afternoon teaching me to ride two wheels? And I took off but I didn’t know how to break.”
“How could I forget it? I got my first gray hairs that day. And I was only twenty- three.”
“After I crashed into the side of the parked car, I was stunned and sore, but I didn’t cry until I saw your face. You looked so freaked out when you picked me up that it scared the hell out of me.”
“Nearly dropped dead from a heart attack right then and there.”
“Exactly. That’s because you are a good dad. A good dad would be scared shitless watching his kid ride full speed into the side of a car. It didn’t matter that we’d pulled the bike out of the trash, what mattered was that you were worried that I’d hurt myself.”
Silence surrounded us again and then he spoke. “You know I’m damn proud of you, don’t you, Eden?”
“Yeah, I do. And that’s another reason you’re a great dad.”
The freeway opened up eventually and our crummy van rolled into Beverly Hills looking ridiculously out of place amongst the Corvettes and Porsches. The houses, or more appropriately, the mansions, looked like small cities with dark green lawns and manicured shrubs and trees.
Dad smiled over at me. “We’re almost there. Are you nervous?”
“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t. I just hope they like me.”
Dad held the piece of paper with directions in one hand as he steered the van down a long, shady street. He turned right up another long street lined with purple jacaranda trees.
I took hold of the directions. “What street is this?”
“This is the driveway.”
“Oh.” My mouth went dry and my stomach fluttered as if butterflies were doing an Irish river dance inside of it. We pulled up to massive black gates. In the distance, I could see an imposing mansion that looked more like a series of well-matched buildings rather than a home. The fountain out front looked larger than our entire apartment. “It looks like an English Castle.”
“King is from England originally. A lot of the big names came from Britain.” Dad cranked down the window, leaned out, and pushed the button on the intercom.
“Security,” a deep voice said through the speaker.
“Hey there,” Dad said lamely, “Uh, Eden Saxon is here for an appointment with Miss King.”
There was no further discourse, and the ornate iron gates swung open. Dad drove slowly as if we were driving through a field of land mines. His fingers were white as they gripped the steering wheel. I giggled at the irony.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“On the insanely crowded freeway, you used the top of your knee to drive, and here, on a deserted driveway, you’re gripping the wheel like you’re driving through a blizzard in the Alps.”
He loosened his grip and smiled. “Don’t know why. I guess I just didn’t want to make a mistake.” He leaned forward and glanced up through the windshield. “There are probably cameras all over the place.”
“I think that as long as you’re not doing donuts on the lawn, you’re safe.”
The front doors were made of highly polished dark wood cut in the shape of an arch. I stared at the doors a second and took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.”
Dad leaned across the seats and hugged me. “Remember, call if things don’t work out. I can be back out here in an hour.” He leaned down to get a better view of the house. “Man, is this place something.” His gaze was riveted to the shiny front doors.
“Dad, he’s not home, remember.”
“I know.” He kissed me again.
I reached back and yanked forward my duffle bag. “Love you, Dad.”
Chapter 4
The doors of the mansion were even bigger up close. I stood for a moment gathering my courage and then pressed the red button. I expected a doorbell. Instead, it was another voice.
“Welcome. I will be right out.” I was certain a young girl would open the door, but it was an elderly woman with rosy cheeks and a crisply pressed maid uniform. “Miss Saxon?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Tilly. I’ll let Miss King know you’ve arrived.” She ushered me inside, and while I’d told myself over and over again not to act like a total bumpkin by appearing overwhelmed by it all, the entry made my jaw drop. A smooth sea of white marbled flowed through the room and a glittering chandelier hung over the center of a dark blue floor mosaic. The chandelier was bigger than our van and every crystal had been polished like a diamond. I stood alone in the cavernous entryway feeling dwarfed and completely out of place in my faded jeans. Footsteps sounded behind me and I spun around.
“You must be the new governess,” the girl said, and then apparently noticing the shocked expression on my face, she smiled. “I’m only kidding. I was down in the theater watching Jane Eyre. Of course, if you were Jane then that would make me the little French girl and that would make my dad, Mr. Rochester, which is creepy because he’s old. Although his latest girlfriend is only twenty-five or something like that.”
She was extraordinarily petite with white blonde hair cut in a long shag, but as small as she was, she was definitely the type of girl who could walk into a crowded room and catch everyone’s attention. Two orange cats swirled around her legs as she grinned up at me.
“Oh my God, you’re so tall. One of those lucky girls who has legs up to her teeth— as my dad would say.” She walked over and shook my hand. “I’m Finley Tate King. Yeah, I know it’s a boy’s name.” Tiny as she was, she swung my duffle up onto her shoulder like a lumberjack. “The brilliant, highly skilled medical professional who performed the ultrasound on my mom told her she was ninety-nine percent sure I was going to be a boy.” Her ultrasound tale continued as she motioned with her head for me to follow. “I guess you have to give her credit. At least she didn’t say a hundred percent. Anyhow, my mom had already named me. She told my dad that even in the womb she’d come to know me as Finley, so she refused to change the name.”