Excerpt from Teacher's Pet
Chapter One
"Benny's Botticelli Beauty!" The front page headline from the tabloid, the National Reporter, was bad enough, but Susan Shaw was horrified by the accompanying pictures of her and poor Benny, making the most of the contrast between her zaftig build and Benny's small stature.
"Benny's appetite for this woman is only matched by her obvious appetite for food"
Susan threw down the paper, feeling at once embarrassed and humiliated. She looked up into the sympathetic eyes of her best friend, Gwen Delaney. The two women sat in Susan's sitting room in the staff quarters of the private school where Susan and Gwen's husband worked. The two women were a study in contrast. Susan was tall, abundantly curved, with long auburn hair and large expressive eyes. Gwen was tiny and quick, her Asian father evident in her straight blue black hair cut pixie fashion, and her almond shaped eyes now flashing with anger.
"It's disgraceful what that rag is allowed to print," Gwen said. "You should sue!"
"God no!" Susan said. "That's all I need --more publicity. Wouldn't the public just love that. "Fat girl sues over insults"
"Hey, cut it out," her friend said. "No one with half a brain will buy into that rag's version of things."
"But the problem is," Susan said bitterly," they're not far off the mark. He did grab me in that parking lot that night. He did have pictures of me plastered all over his shack."
"Poor befuddled little guy," said Gwen. "I'm still finding it hard to believe that our Benny is this crazy stalker. I mean, I know he's a little eccentric, but he's always been so harmless and I can't see him capable of writing all those secret admirer letters. It just doesn't fit."
"I know what you mean," said Susan flopping back onto the couch and draping her arm across her aching brow. "He was so very sweet to me when I first started working at Highgate. I'd run into him all the time when I took walks around the campus. He never talked to me, but he'd smile and once or twice he gave me bouquets of wild flowers. I thought it was kind of sweet." She shivered.
Gwen smiled. "I kind of feel sorry for the awkward soul. I remember the day he showed up at the front gates looking for work. He was so timid. The principal almost didn't hire him, but Benny turned out to be a really hard worker and he did a surprisingly good job around the grounds."
"I know," said Susan, her exhaustion showing in her voice. "That's why this whole situation is so distressing. Gwen, what if it wasn't Benny?"
"But they have the evidence," Gwen said.
"All circumstantial." Susan sat forward and rubbed her temples. "Lord, my head is pounding."
"Too bad they couldn't trace those secret admirer notes," Gwen mused. She stood and walked briskly into the bathroom.
"I tried after about the third one arrived and they started getting weird and angry," Susan said. "I took them to the police myself but they said they were written using a standard PC and laser printer so virtually untraceable."
Gwen returned and handed Susan a bottle of Aspirin. "Big help, weren't they," she said.
Susan smiled her gratitude and quickly swallowed two tablets. "Well, they seem to think they solved the case with Benny's arrest. No one seems too concerned that he didn't have a computer, nor I suspect, the intellectual capacity to write the notes. God, I just go round and round with this."
"You need to get away," Gwen said, pouring fresh cups of tea for them both.
"That would be lovely," Susan said with a sigh, "but where? I can't afford anything too extravagant, not on a teacher's pay."
"And not with you carrying the whole load of debt from putting Justine through"
Susan held up a hand and grimaced.
"Pleasedon't start."
"What about" The phone's strident ring interrupted Gwen. Susan reluctantly picked up the receiver.
"Hello," she said, prepared to slam it down if it proved to be another reporter. "Oh hi Justine." Although it was her fraternal twin sister on the line, she was only marginally less apprehensive about the call. Justine could be as troublesome as the tabloid press.
"I've got a proposition for you." Just like thatno preliminary nicetiesno inquiry about how Susan was doing.
"How much will it cost me," Susan said and then regretted the bitterness of her outburst.
"God, don't be so bitchy," Justine fired back. "I'm trying to do you a favor but if you don't want"
Susan grimaced at the underlying whininess that was creeping into Justine's voice.
"No, no," she said, "I'm sorry. What did you want to say?"
Gwen mouthed what looked like "coward". Susan stuck out her tongue in response.
There was a sight pause and then Justine continued.
"I'm down here in the Quintero Islands," she said and Susan felt an immediate stab of envy. International models got to lounge about the Caribbean, but not hard working private school teachers.
"Lucky you," she said.
"Yeah, well, a dear friend of mine" There was a mile of insinuation in that phrase. "a single dad, has a 9-year-old daughter. He's looking for a private tutor for the summer. I told him all about you and he's prepared to offer you the job."
Susan was caught off guard. It was completely out of character for Justine to do anything out of pure kindness. Susan suspected that the man was her latest conquest and the 9-year-old was cramping her style.
"Babysitting some spoiled rich kid is not my idea of a restful holiday," Susan said.
"God, you can be so snotty sometimes," Justine said, to which Susan laughed in derision.
"Look," Justine said, her voice thick with barely controlled pique. "I just thought you might want to get away from--your situation for a bit, and Steve is prepared to pay very well and you're always going on about money"
"Because I never have any," Susan thought.
"so take it or leave it. I don't really care. But I think you'd be really stupid not to."
Susan closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. She hated to admit it, but the thought of getting away to a tropical paradise was very compelling. And she had worked so hard the years since their parents had died. It was Susan who had taken on the task of getting them both educated and Susan who had supported her flighty sister when she went into the uncertain field of modeling.
When the insurance money had gone, Susan had taken the highest paying jobs in her field she could get to maintain living expenses and pay off university loans. She'd worked two jobs and taken extra work in the summers. Even though Justine's career had taken off and she was earning more, Susan was still carrying the financial load for them both.
Resentment filled Susan. Why shouldn't she take this opportunity offered by Justine's rich boyfriend. How hard could it be?
"I'll do it," she said.
"Great." She and Justine discussed logistics for a few more minutes. Susan hung up and grinned wearily at a curious Gwen.
"Looks like I'm taking your advice," she said and told her friend about Justine's offer.
"It will not only keep you safely way from those creeps from the media," Gwen said with excitement," but it's a chance of a lifetime. Just think of it! The Caribbeanblue water, white beaches, warm sun all the time!"
"Don't forget, spoiled 9-year-old and my dear sister lording it over me.'
"Okay, stop being a party pooper," Gwen said. "I'm so jealous." And Susan laughed, her headache fading for the first time in days.
***
Barry, Gwen's husband and Susan's department head, was less enthusiastic than his wife at Susan's impending departure.
"I was under the impression that you would be taking the summer's drama camp again this year," he said.
"Look Barry," she said, fighting to maintain her patience. "You know what I've been going through these past weeks. I need to get away and let things die down. I'm sure Eloise or Joe can take the drama camp his year. I'm going."
"Very well," he said, "but I'm not pleased."
Too damn bad, Susan thought.
Susan loved Gwen dearly but could not say the same for her friend's overbearing husband.
Susan thought back to her first meeting with Gwen's husband at Highgate. That was a very different story. She was sure that day Barry hated her on sight.
"Susan, this is Barry Delaney, your department head. He'll help you get settled
in," the principal said and then left her alone with the man.
"Hello Miss Shaw," Barry said with cool politeness. "Welcome to Highgate."
"Pleased to meet you," she replied, shaking his hand. She hoped he didn't notice her moist palms, revealing the extent of her nervousness. "And please, call me Susan."
He gave her a long once over, making Susan feel rather like a lab specimen.
"Very well...Susan. What brought you to Highgate?" Barry asked, again with forced politeness, his voice tight.
"Well..." Susan began, not clear how she should answer. "I love teaching and I heard it was an excellent school. But quite frankly, it paid the best and I could use a healthy salary at the moment." She chuckled self-consciously at her attempted humor and was embarrassed when he failed to respond in kind.
"Well, money isn't everything," Barry said, looking disapprovingly down at her from every inch of his broad-shouldered 6'2" frame. "We have very high standards here for our students and for the staff as well."
Susan was rather taken aback. "I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that I could use the extra money right now. I mean...things are pretty expensive these days...I--" She stopped. She was sounding like an imbecile.
"I believe it's important to live sensibly," Barry said with a pompous tone. "One cannot find fulfillment in things."
"No, you don't understand," Susan blustered. He made her feel very nervous. "I only meant that I was trying to pay off some debts and perhaps save a little for the future. You never know what might happen."
"I see," he said, not seeing at all. "Well, I hope you've made a commitment to stay on and aren't planning to run off with your boyfriend to get married or some such nonsense. We've had two new women teachers in the last two years that have up and gone without so much as a goodbye and it's really unfair to the children!"
Susan was embarrassed--and rather put out--by the turn in the conversation.
"I don't have a boyfriend," she said bluntly. She looked down at herself, seeing clearly her massive body, hardly disguised in the well-cut royal blue business suit. What was he, blind? Did he honestly think she was some hot tomato who would turn men's heads and have them clamoring at her door?
"I'm very committed," she said firmly. ...or I should be! she thought wryly.
"Good!" He turned abruptly with a curt "Follow me," and showed Susan to her classroom.
Despite her shaky beginning, Susan fell in love with Highgate and the students. It seemed she had found a haven, for the students welcomed her with open hearts. It really wasn't surprising. Susan had always been a popular teacher wherever she taught. Her ready smile and ability to truly listen to the children made them feel special and cared about.
Susan worked up the courage once, to ask Gwen what she saw in Barry. Gwen had laughed, thankfully not insulted.
"He's really a sweetie deep down," she said.
"Way deep down," Susan had quipped, then felt bad. "I'm sorry. He is your husband. He must have some good points."
"Oh, we've had our problems. What couple hasn't? And he wasn't exactly a rock when I had my miscarriages." Gwen's face fell and she smoothed the wrinkles from the knees of her slacks. Then she lifted her head, a smile firmly back in place. "But we've worked hard at our marriage. Considering his awful childhood, Barry's come a long way. What can I say? I love him."
This shamed Susan and she tried hard to warm to the man. But after facing Barry's disapproval of her travel plans and his apparent lack of sympathy over her situations, she seriously questioned if, indeed, she could.
Chapter Two
An exhausted Susan sat in the comfort of the speeding launch, thinking about everything that had recently happened to her. Her shoulder length hair gleamed like burnished copper in the hot tropical sun, the thick curling tendrils whipping about her face with abandon. Idly, she thought she should have worn a scarf. Her hair would be agony to brush out later. Such thoughts seemed so mundane after the intensity of her recent experience.
Susan stretched her long legs. The seats on the plane had cramped her large frame and height. It felt good to be out of the claustrophobic aircraft and in the open air. She felt amazed to be here. She'd never had the opportunity to travel before, as it had always been financially prohibitive. Not like Justine. Models got to travel all the time. Justine had promised that her new boss would know nothing of Susan's recent ordeal. She promised that it would be a holiday more than anything else. Right. A junior high school teacher giving make-up lessons to a pre-teen so she could get into some private school--probably the same school for the spoiled offspring of the rich and privileged Susan had just left for the summer--certainly wasn't her idea of a holiday.
Susan let out a deep sigh. Maybe the stress and lack of sleep of the last few months was making her feel a bit jaded. After all, Highgate Private School for Girls wasn't a bad place to work. The kids weren't terrible. And it did pay better than normal high schools, which was the real reason she worked there. She wondered what had really prompted Justine's gesture, so out of character for the self-absorbed beauty.
Well, now that Justine's career was taking off and she was earning more, Susan would just have to approach her sister again about chipping in more money for the loans. As Justine Lafontaine, her picture appeared often on the covers of glamour magazines around the world. And she was getting lots of runway work in Europe. This time Susan wasn't going to take no for an answer.
Gazing at the beautiful blue water, and feeling the power of the launch under her feet, Susan was struck by how bright everything seemed in the tropics. The greens seemed greener, and the blues, bluer. She had to admit that maybe having a rich employer for the summer might not be too bad after all.
The Quintero Islands were a series of relatively unknown islands near Nevis and St. Kitts in the southern part of the Caribbean Islands. Susan remembered seeing a spot about it on 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.' Most of the islands were nothing more than small knuckles of rock, covered with a smattering of ragged flora and unable to sustain even the smallest of animal life. A few of the islands were large enough to have been purchased privately, and here you could find some of the world's most exquisite homes. Traditionally the playground of the wealthy and privileged, it boasted being the second home to some of the world's more reclusive people.
Quintero Primo, the largest of the islands, had the only thriving town in the entire chain. Dunlee had a bustling daily farmers' market providing that touch of local flavor so important to island visitors. People walked to the local dock each day to purchase freshly caught fish allowing the wealthy island residents to feel a sense of roughing it or getting back to basics. Of course, the fish they purchased would be cooked by household cooks in elaborately stocked kitchens in incredibly expensive homes.
A private airstrip, an exclusive yacht club, and the world famous five star Four Winds Resort completed the island complement of facilities.
Getting off the plane, Susan had felt a little like Dorothy stepping into the Land of Oz for the first time--almost as if she had always been living in black and white, and all of a sudden she'd discovered color. The quality of the light was almost painful. It was an incredible sensory experience. It touched Susan's sensual core and she felt something begin to awaken in her.
Justine told her the island she was going to had everything one could want for an idyllic, paradise vacation. There were, of course, miles of sandy beaches, all the water sports one could imagine, a fantastic local market and, the most important element according to Justine, a hotel providing a lively nightlife where one could gamble or dance the night away. This was where Justine's jet-set cronies hung out most of the time.
Settling herself back into the comfortable leather seat, Susan felt herself giving in to the overwhelming urge to sleep. Perhaps it was the heat and the calming drone of the engine. She released a heavy sigh.
She let her eyes close and her mind wander. Dancing the night away was something that she had never done. Fat girls didn't dance the night away. And at three hundred pounds, she was fat. Firm, but fat. Full-figured to the politically correct. At home Susan enjoyed walking for hours alone with her thoughts or meditating as she did her daily modified yoga routine. Dancing was something that her sister did. Her younger by three minutes, prettier, sexier, more outgoing, thin twin sister, her frustrating, immature, irresponsible, headstrong, desirable sister.
Susan closed her eyes and smiled. There was that cynical attitude again. Well, maybe that would stop now that she would be getting a decent night's sleep and didn't have to worry. She drifted off into a light slumber to be assailed by troubling dreams.
She was grabbed from behind as she unlocked her car, and dragged towards a beat up van parked nearby. As she fought to free herself from the iron grip the terror was mind numbing. She heard sirens and the yelling of approaching voices. She screamed with every ounce of power she could muster. Susan had always felt that her size would keep her safe from attack. After all, it would take a pretty big man to be able to move her bulk. But here she was at the mercy of this guy, and it seemed quite clear to her, that he was smaller than she. Yet he had her under control. Fear had such a paralyzing effect, Susan reflected later.
She could hear the man breathing heavily as he resisted her efforts to get free. "Please don't hurt me," she whimpered as he maneuvered her toward his van. "Please"
"Let go of her scumbag!!" Out of nowhere it seemed, Susan and her attacker were surrounded by uniformed officers. All had their firearms drawn, ready to take him down. The maniac slackened his hold as the shock of getting caught hit him. She broke free and stumbled to safety behind a line of armed police. As the enormity of what had just occurred hit her, she broke down in great gulping sobs. A policewoman helped her to her feet and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Despite its warmth, Susan shivered uncontrollably. She watched as the uniformed officers had her assailant spread-eagled on the ground while they searched him for weapons and read him his rights. Within moments he was cuffed and unceremoniously thrown into a squad car. Gently she was led to a car and driven to police headquarters for an initial inquiry into the attack. Gwen had arrived and in her usual motherly fashion took Susan over.
Susan snapped awake, her heart hammering and her breathing, labored gulps. It took her a moment to recognize her surroundings and calm herself.
Doctors pronounced Susan physically unharmed after the attack but cautioned her that there could be serious emotional aftershocks from her experience. Actually Susan just felt relief, until she found out the identity of her attacker. She was completely shocked to learn that her secret admirer had been Benny, the school groundskeeper, the quiet, awkward little man who Susan had barely noticed in her months at Highgate. At the trial, he maintained his innocence of stalking Susan. But he was a strange, confused character. Yes, he said, he had grabbed her in the parking lot but he thought she liked him. She had written him and told him so. He had a note to prove it. A search of his ramshackle dwelling failed to turn up the alleged letter.
The ensuing weeks offered little relief to Susan. The court case was swift and relatively easy. Benny pleaded not guilty and insisted that he hadn't been stalking Susan. But there was enough circumstantial evidence, and Benny's own peculiar appearance and manner, that the jury was quick to declare him guilty. The newspapers and television had a field day with the trial.
Susan prayed fervently that this time in the Quintero Islands would bring peace again. She needed the nightmare to end.
Chapter Three
Steven Carson slammed the phone into its cradle and uttered a particularly crude expletive. Would this day ever end!? His office had just informed him the Japanese investors he'd been courting to finance his latest venture, had abruptly ended all talks and were threatening to leave unless he returned to New York immediately. He had counted on his staff to be able to finish the deal after the months of preparation he'd personally put into it. Exhausted and homesick, he had come home to rest and spend much overdue time with his only child.
That was his next worry. Becca was nine, a touchy age in any girl's life. But she seemed to be having a particularly difficult time growing up. At times she was sullen and moody and at other times, insecure and awkward. Steven had no experience with pre-teen girls. It was tears or tantrums it seemed with his beloved daughter. It didn't help that her self-image was in the dumpster. She was still enveloped in baby fat. Round, soft, and pudgy she was at a physically awkward stage. Braces worked to straighten a slight overbite. Glasses corrected her near-sightedness. No amount of brushing controlled the blonde frizzy mess atop her head. When she looked in the mirror, she saw an ugly freak. Steven saw his beautiful baby girl and wanted to help her see that as well.
Steven would never forgive the selfish bitch that was his ex-wife for deserting him and their only child. He hoped wherever she was tanning that carefully toned body, she was miserable and unfulfilled. He would never understand how a woman could willingly leave her baby behind. Not that he would ever have wanted Becca to be subjected to her mother's whims, erratic behavior, and easy ways. It was bad enough having to deal with the emotional aftermath caused by each sporadic visit. No. He was happy that Becca was safe with him. But he knew the emotional price Becca had paid for her mother's desertion. And he wasn't sure he knew how to compensate.
He felt a profound sense of guilt, partly for his role in the breakdown of a less than perfect marriage, and partly for being foolish enough to have married Dierdre in the first place. He'd often cursed the day he met her. But then he'd look at his wonderful daughter and feel gratitude that she had been born.
He seemed to be in a constant state of emotional turmoil. In an effort to forget his woes, he had immersed himself in his already thriving business. It meant long periods of time away from Becca, but she was away at boarding school throughout the school year and so he felt she was being well taken care of. But her grades at school had suffered terribly of late.
As Steve mulled over the dilemma created by this business trip and his concern for his daughter, Becca was ensconced in the kitchen with Ruthie, their island housekeeper. Becca loved the kitchen. It was her favorite room in the house. It was always full of wonderful aromas and Ruthie kept a supply of Becca's favorite oatmeal spice cookies on hand. And Becca loved Ruthie. The perpetually happy woman was always ready to talk to the lonely little girl and to share her simple island wisdom.
"Have another cookie, child," Ruthie said. "There's no use lettin' them go to waste."
"But Mrs. Horne says cookies make me fat," the girl said regretfully.
"And who is this Mrs. Horne?" Ruthie asked, disapproval evident in her face and stance.
"She's the nutritionist at school. My gym teacher said I was too chubby and sent me to her to go on a diet."
"A diet! Lawd, child! Does your father know this?" Ruthie's anger was evident.
"I don't know," Becca said, her eyes wide. She rarely saw Ruthie lose her temper.
"What kind of people put a perfectly normal nine-year-old on a diet?" Ruthie continued, more to herself than to Becca. "Lawd, Lawd, but your father will be vexed and that's for sure!"
"But Mommy said--"
"Humph!" Ruthie responded at the mention of Becca's mother. "That woman has no sense as well! There's nothing wrong at all with you, child, and that's a fact!" Ruthie's island accent got thicker as her temper flared.
"But I am pudgy," Becca said, a quiver in her voice. "My tummy sticks out and my bum jiggles and my legs rub when I walk. Some of the other girls made fun of me."
"Oh Lawd, child, you're still growing," Ruthie said with gentle understanding. They had covered this territory before, and Ruthie thought they had settled matters. Now these teachers had filled Becca's head with doubts again.
"Everybody is made their own way," she continued. "God did not intend for us all to be the same. Look at you and me. Your skin is white and mine is brown. Is either one wrong?" Becca shook her head, intent on Ruthie's words. "Of course not! You have yellow hair. Mine is black. Different, that's all. And bodies are the same. We are what we are. And that's how it should be. Look at me." She gestured to her large, round torso. "I was a tiny little baby and look at me now. You don't know how you will turn out until you get there. And the only person you need please is yourself. I'm a happy woman. My family loves me. I'm a good person. The rest is just the package we have until we go to heaven."
"So I shouldn't go on a diet?" Hope gleamed in Becca's eyes.
"It's all nonsense!" Ruthie said emphatically. "You are a normal little girl. Normal little girls don't need diets. Now, here's your cookie and I'll be talking to your father about that school!"
Steve was already deep in thought about the school. A normally bright girl, Becca seemed unable to concentrate or to care. Becca's head mistress advised Steven that his daughter missed her mother, or rather the presence of a mother figure in her life. She went on to state that these pre-teen years could be very difficult for a girl as her body changed and she began the journey to womanhood. She was fraught with conflicting feelings and confusion. And it wasn't always easy to discuss such things with a father. She advised Steven to find a female family member or hire a governess that could help Becca through these difficult years.
The conversation made Steven feel even guiltier than before. He was desperate to help his little girl. So, he hired a tutor for the summer in the hopes that intensive one-to-one teaching would help Becca gain back some of her academic standing. Justine had spoken highly of the woman, some relative of hers, he thought, stating her teaching qualifications and years of experience in an exclusive private school. He hoped she could also help Becca with her personal needs. Why she would want to come all this way to tutor during her summer break and why he would take Justine's advice on anything, was beyond him, but he was grateful just the same.
Justine Lafontaine. He'd have to do something about her when he got back from New York. She was beginning to wheedle her way into his life again and he was determined to bring that to a stop. He thought he had made it patently clear to her long ago she and he would never be an item. In fact, at one point he was sure that she and his brother Marty were getting close. But it appeared that he'd been wrong because Justine had taken to showing up on his doorstep again, attempting to make herself indispensable.
Steven cursed again. The teacher was arriving today. But he had to go to New York. He couldn't afford to blow the Japanese money. He picked up the phone. A groggy voice answered.
"Marty? I need to ask a favor."
"Hey big brother. What's shakin'? You finally taking me up on my offer to scare up a date for ya?"
Steven chuckled at the response. "No, I don't need you to introduce me to any girls. That kind of trouble I don't need! I need you to come stay at the house and watch Becca for me while I make a quick trip to New York."
"Sure, no problem."
Relief transformed Steven's face and he smiled. "Thanks little brother. I owe you. Can you get here in the next hour?"
"Sure."
"Good. By the way, Becca's tutor is arriving sometime today. I'd like you to make her feel welcome and get her settled in. I have a feeling that Becca isn't going to make things easy for her.
"What's the little monster done now?" Marty chuckled.
Steven smiled wryly. "Well, you know how she feels about Justine and--"
"What's the Ice Queen got to do with it?" Marty's humor had disappeared from his voice. "Is she sniffing around your bank account again, wedding bells in her eyes? Did she try to get you to send Becca to her mother again?"
Steven sighed, "No. You know I'd never stand for that sort of garbage. It's just that Justine recommended this woman. She's a relative of some sort and very qualified. That connection was enough for Becca to hate her on spec."
"So what does teach look like? Another bleached-blonde bombshell?"
"I have no idea what she looks like, but behave yourself anyway. She's Becca's teacher!"
"Okey-dokey, bro'. You're the boss."
Steven smiled. "Like anything I say will stop you! Anyway, I'm leaving shortly. Just hold the fort until I can get back."
"Just leave it to me, big brother."
Martin Carson was Steve's younger brother by three years. He was charming, lovable, sweet, and he didn't have a responsible bone in his body. At least, that's how he wanted the world to perceive him. He lived on the income from an inheritance subsidized by the odd paying job from his brother. He enjoyed wine, women and song, not necessarily in that order. All who met him were instantly charmed and exasperated by the dark-haired playboy. But Steven knew beyond any doubt that Marty would move heaven and earth to protect and care for his niece.
Steven packed quickly and called for his car. It would take him to his private airstrip where he would board his corporate jet for the brief flight to New York. He found Becca in the kitchen with Ruthie. He sat at the kitchen table and pulled his daughter onto his lap, hugging her close and kissing her temple.
"I have to go away for a couple of days, sweetheart," he said and felt Becca stiffen. "It's important, sweetie. I promise to be home as fast as I can."
"But you just got home," Becca said, a suspicious quaver in her voice. Steve felt horrible.
"I know, baby," he said, smoothing the hair back from her forehead. "And I hate to go. But it's business. It shouldn't take long and then we can spend some special time together."
Becca looked up at her father, her eyes large and soulful. "Promise?"
"Promise," he said and kissed her temple again. "Uncle Marty is going to babysit while I'm gone."
"Uncle Marty?" Becca smiled. "Yay!"
"And, sweetheart, the new tutor is arriving soon, and I want you to make her feel welcome."
Becca's smile disappeared and her jaw took on a stubborn tilt that Steve recognized.
"I'm serious, Rebecca. I don't want you causing any problems. She's a nice lady, I'm sure. Give her a chance, okay?"
Becca was silent for a moment and then muttered, "Okay."
With a last fierce hug and kiss, Steve left his daughter and went to his waiting car.
As he sped away in one direction, Susan arrived from another. The launch bumped against the dock, waking her from her heat-induced drowse and she took the first look at her summer residence. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she took in the sprawling glass and stone house perched on the hill, the sun glinting off the windows. Built in a u-shape around an inner courtyard, the house nestled amidst the tropical greenery as if it had sprouted there. Careful landscaping had created a partnership between man-made contrivance and nature's bounty. She'd never anticipated the sheer beauty of the home.
A steep incline led from the dock to the front lawn of the residence. A cleverly designed pathway zigzagged up the hill allowing a leisurely easy climb, while providing alternating breathtaking ocean vistas and island glory.
Reaching the summit, she was enchanted by the compact expanse of neat, velvety lawn, the crushed white stone of the circular drive, the low-roofed veranda stretching across the front of the house, and the lavish, outrageously colored gardens edging along the veranda. It was such a pleasure for the eye that Susan was immediately in love with this piece of paradise.
After knocking on the massive carved front door, she was greeted by the uniformed housekeeper. As Ruthie led Susan through the house, she chattered amiably about Susan's new employer and his young daughter.
"You'll have your hands full with that one," she said in her singsong voice as she chuckled loudly.
"Oh?" Susan's curiosity was roused.
"Don't get me wrong," Ruthie said with another warm chuckle. "I love that child. But she's pining for her mother, I think. It's a sad thing."
"What happened to her mother?"
"That one!" Ruthie made it sound like an oath. "She went and left her own daughter and husband many years ago. They're divorced now, thank you Lawd, and that's the best thing that ever happened. But my Becca misses having a woman in her life. If you ask me, this boarding school is a bad influence on the child."
"She has you," Susan said. "She's obviously lucky in that regard. You seem to really love her."
"That I do, miss," Ruthie said with feeling. "And I'd do anything for her. But I'm not her mother. I keep hoping Mr. Steve will meet a nice woman and get settled again." Ruthie stopped a moment and looked speculatively at Susan. "Are you married miss?"
Susan blushed to the roots of her hair. She wasn't used to such directness.
"No, I'm not," she stammered and then walked hurriedly ahead of the housekeeper. Attempting to change the subject, she said, "What a beautiful home!"
Ruthie beamed at the compliment, her proprietary air evident. Thus began a long diatribe on the history of the house and the island. Susan was enthralled at Ruthie's account. But she couldn't help harkening back to earlier words.
So Becca, her new student, was troubled. Susan wondered why this created such a sense of disquiet.
