I enter the password and look for documents. There’s nothing labeled WORK. I scroll through, searching, and finally come upon a folder labeled CRAP. Close enough, knowing Tim. I click on that, and up pops a series of documents. Give that Girl an A: A Study of Hawthorne’s Hester Prynne. A Comparison of Huckleberry Finn and Holden Caulfield. Danger in Dickens. The Four Freedoms.
I click on The Four Freedoms…and there it all is. Nan’s prize-winning Fourth of July speech. Dated last fall.
But she wrote it for American government. This spring.
Daniel took American government last year. I remember him going on and on about John Adams at our lunch table. So Nan must have gotten the syllabus from him. She’s always prepared like that. But still…writing the paper before the class even started? Extreme. Even for Nan.
And why would it be on Tim’s computer? Okay. Nan did borrow his laptop a lot when hers was a mess.
I shift the mouse, edging it to Holden Caulfield and Huckleberry Finn, Nan’s essay to be published in the literary journal. Here it is, the Lazlo-winning essay, word for word.
I know she covered for him. We both have, let’s face it. But this is so much further than I thought she’d go.
I can’t believe it. Tim’s been using Nan’s work.
I continue to stare at the screen, feeling like someone siphoned all the blood out of my head.
“Samantha, I need you! Can you un-Velcro yourself from The Boyfriend for a while?” Nan’s voice crackles over my cell, high and shaking.
“Of course. Where are you?”
“Meet me at Doane’s. I need ice cream.”
Nan’s going for sugar-rush therapy again. Bad sign. Did she go to New York with Daniel? It’s only Saturday. I thought Tim said she’d told her parents he was taking her to some Model UN and they were staying at his very strict uncle’s house.
I don’t even know if Daniel has an uncle who lives in NYC, although if he did, that the uncle would be strict is a safe bet.
The Masons’ house is much closer to town than mine, so I’m not surprised to find her sitting at the counter at Doane’s when I get there. I am surprised to find her already plowing into a banana split.
“Sorry,” she says through a mouthful of whipped cream. “Couldn’t wait. I almost jumped the counter and dug into the buckets with my fingers. I definitely need some chocolate malt salvation now. Just like Tim. Since he stopped drinking he’s like a maniac with the sweet stuff.”
“But you’re not kicking a habit,” I say. “Or are you? What’s up with Daniel?”
She turns bright red and tears come to her eyes, spill down her flushed, freckled cheeks.
“Aw, Nan.” I start to put my arms around her, but she shakes her head.
“Order yours and let’s sit at the picnic table outside. I don’t want everyone in Doane’s to hear this.”
The only other people in Doane’s at the moment are a mother with a toddler who is screaming because she won’t let him buy a foot-long Tootsie Roll. “BAD MOMMY. I’M GOING TO KILL YOU WITH A SWORD!”
“Yeah, we’d better get out of here before we’re material witnesses to a homicide,” I say. “I’ll get ice cream later. Lead the way.”
She sets her bowl in front of her on the table, scoops up the cherry, and dunks it in a pool of chocolate sauce. “This is how many million calories, you think?”
“Nan. Tell me. What happened? Tim said you were spending the whole weekend.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Daniel didn’t want anyone to know. I only told Tim the truth because I thought he could help me come up with a better cover story, but he said the Model UN and the strict uncle were inspired. Although he said it would have been even better if I’d said we were staying with his aunt at a convent.”
“You could have told me. I would never tell on you.” Does she know about Tim stealing her essays? Should I tell her?
Her eyes fill again and she dashes the tears away impatiently, taking another mountainous scoop of ice cream. “I know. I’m sorry. I was…I felt like you were too busy with the Hometown Hottie to care. I thought I’d just go and come back a Sophisticated Woman Who Took Her Relationship to the Next Level in the Big Apple.”
I wince. There’s no way I’m bringing up Tim right now. “Did Daniel use that phrase again? Maybe if we made him a little dictionary? We could translate his words into something remotely sexy. Take Our Relationship to the Next Level could be Come on, Baby, Light My Fire.”
She gulps another scoop of ice cream, swallows, then says, “What would It’s Time to Push Our Comfort Zone be?”
“Oh Nan. Really?”
She nods. “He can’t really be our age. Maybe it’s like Freaky Friday and some middle-aged insurance salesman has taken over Daniel’s body.” She scoops up another enormous spoonful.
“What comes after pushing the comfort zone, Nan?” I probe.
“Well, we were at his uncle’s town house—that part was true. But his uncle was away in Pound Ridge for the weekend, so…we’d had dinner and walked in the park—not for very long, because Daniel kept thinking someone was going to mug us. Then we walked back, and he put on music.”
“Please tell me it wasn’t Ravel’s Boléro.”
“Actually, he couldn’t get the station he wanted, so we wound up with all these rap songs. But he thought that was sort of funny too. I noticed that he got less starchy when we, well, when I got more—um—”
“Confident?”
“Right. I kind of knew that was Daniel’s Kryptonite. So I was wearing my green dress with all the little buttons down the front and I just ripped it open. Buttons everywhere. You should have seen his face!”
“Wow.” I can’t imagine Nan doing this. She still changes in her closet when I spend the night.
“Then I said, ‘Stop talking, Professor.’ And I ripped open his shirt.” She’s smiling a little now.
“Nan, you shameless hussy.” The smile fades away and she puts her head down on the table next to her melting sundae and sobs. “I’m sorry, I was kidding. What then? He didn’t make you go right out to Madison Avenue and buy him a new one, did he?”
“No. He was totally into it. He told me this was a new side of me and he wasn’t threatened by confident women.” She digs out a chunk of banana dribbling with syrup but then drops the spoon back down and blows her nose on the hem of her T-shirt. “That I was beautiful and there was nothing better than brains and beauty together, and then he stopped talking and started kissing me like crazy. We were lying on the floor in front of the fireplace and—” Another sob.
My hand is stroking the back of Nan’s head, my mind racing with every possible scenario. Daniel announced he’s gay. Daniel has Erectile Dysfunction. Daniel confessed to being a vampire and not being able to have sex with her because he might kill her.
“His uncle came in. Right into the library. He wasn’t even away. That was supposed to be next weekend. He’d been at work when we dropped off our suitcases and now he was upstairs taking a bath and he heard noises and he came in with a cane ready to kill us.”
Oh poor Nanny.
“He’s shouting at Daniel and calling me a slut and all this stuff and Daniel can’t find his pants so he’s just standing there nak*d, and then he shoves me in front of himself.”
Damn Daniel. Couldn’t he even be gallant and shield her? Tim was right. He’s a putz.
“What a coward.” Oops, will that make Nan mad? I brace myself. But she just nods her head and says, “I know, right? Steve McQueen would never have done that. He would have beaten him up like he does to the bad doctor in Love With the Proper Stranger.”
“So then what?”
“So then the uncle and Daniel start fighting. Daniel’s begging him not to tell his parents and his uncle keeps screaming at him. Finally, he agreed not to tell if we ‘Left the Premises at Once.’”
I can see where Daniel gets his diction. “So you came home then?”
“No, it was really late. We used my emergency American Express card to stay at the Doubletree Midtown. Daniel tried to pick up where we left off, but the mood was gone. We just watched a Star Trek marathon and fell asleep.”
I reach out my arms and this time she slides into them, her drooping head on my shoulder, her own shoulders shaking.
“Why can’t things ever work for me? I just wanted to be irresistible and adventurous. Now I’m a Scarlet Woman and I didn’t even get the sex. I’m a Faux Scarlet Woman.” Her hot tears soak my collarbone.
“I think you were awesome. Ripping off his shirt, taking charge. You’re a Scarlet Woman in all the best ways, Nan Mason.”
“It was really hard to rip off, actually.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Brooks Brothers must sew those buttons on with wire.”
“He said you were beautiful and brave,” I tell her. “And you were.”
“Don’t tell anybody what happened. I didn’t even tell Tim. I told him Daniel rocked my world. Ugh.”
Seems to me Tim would understand things not turning out as planned.
I rub her back gently and say, “Pinkie swear.”
She sits up suddenly. “No matter what you do, don’t tell that Garrett boy. I can’t stand the thought of you guys laughing at us.”
I wince. Knowing how protective Jase is of his sisters, how he tried to nudge Tim into having more compassion for Nan, I know he would never laugh. That Nan would think he would hurts, almost as much as it hurts that she thinks I would. But all I say is, “I won’t tell anybody.”
“I need more ice cream.” She says. Her face is so red and swollen that her eyes are squinted. “Want to split that Doane’s Dynamo thing that has ten scoops and comes in a Frisbee?”
Chapter Thirty-three
“Wish me luck at Chuck E. Cheese.” Mrs. Garrett sighs as she drops Jase and me off at the hardware store. “Hell on earth, with pizza and a giant talking mouse.”
It’s Jase and Tim’s shift today. Except that Tim didn’t show up to give us a ride. Mrs. Garrett, saying she didn’t need me to babysit because of a birthday party George is invited to at Chuck E. Cheese, drove us. My early afternoon free from Breakfast Ahoy, I’m thumbing idly through the SAT test prep guide Nan gave me.
Jase begins unpacking a shipment of nails. We say nothing about Tim’s absence, but I notice Jase’s eyes, under their thick dark lashes, flicking to the clock over the door, just as mine do. I don’t want Tim to screw up. But ten minutes go by, then twenty, then half an hour.
Mr. Garrett comes out of the back room to say hello. He claps Jase on the back and kisses me on the cheek, telling us there’s plenty of coffee in his office. He’s holed up back there, he says, doing the quarterly books. Jase whistles under his breath, sorting nails, scribbling amounts down on a pad. I hear a little repetitive sound coming from Mr. Garrett’s office. I flip pages in the prep guide, trying to identify the sound.