"What are you talking about? We'll see each other all the time," Eliza promised.
Eliza turned into the Perry driveway, where several expensive cars were parked. The newest addition to the fleet was a shiny new Toyota Prius, a gas/electric hybrid car that was the latest Hamptons automobile obsession. Priuses were politically correct, environmentally friendly, and incredibly hard to find-- there was a six-month waiting list, and cars were selling for fifty percent over sticker price. Next to the Prius was Ryan Perry's Aston Martin. But since Ryan was a touchy subject, nobody said anything.
Laurie, Anna Perry's personal assistant, a frowsy-haired forty-year-old woman who wore a cell phone around her neck on a leash and lived vicariously through her employers, greeted them at the front door.
"Girls! Welcome back! Eliza, what are you doing here? Anna and the kids arrive t
omorrow morning from the city. They were supposed to come in today, but Kevin needed the heli for some emergency meeting in Connecticut, and Anna didn't want to sit in traffic. Ryan and the twins are around somewhere. Jacqui, Mara, you have the night off after getting the kids' rooms ready."
They all followed Laurie inside and found the Perry house
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the same as ever, with immense floral arrangements in every corner, the striped zebrawood floors polished to a high sheen, every room perfectly appointed and camera-ready for an Architectural Digest shoot. Laurie told them that the Perrys paid a skeleton staff to keep the house looking this way even in the dead of winter. It was important that the house be prepared for their arrival at any moment, even if months passed between visits during the off-season.
"What's that noise?" Mara asked. "Is that a cement mixer?" Her father was in construction, and she recognized the sound.
Laurie grimaced and put her hands to her ears. "It's the Reynolds Castle. They're not supposed to have construction after five. I've already told Anna we should report it to city hall."
The three girls scurried to the picture window and spied a humongous structure being built over a traditional Victorian house. The sprawling wood skeleton, complete with turrets, towers, and what looked like a moat, seemed to span the entire length of the property, all the way down to the beachfront. A huge crane was lifting up several gold-plated Grecian columns. They stared, fascinated, as a forty-foot-wide stained glass cathedral window was positioned on the top floor.
"It's a shame what they're doing to the old Rockefeller place," Laurie sniffed, as insulted as a true East Hampton blueblood. "It's a monstrosity!"
"Here, I'll help you guys with your things," Eliza said, grabbing Jacqui's makeup bag and Mara's magazines.
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The girls walked through the kitchen to the back door that led out to the terrace and garden. The grounds were pristine, the croquet set laid out for a game, and in the distance, the tennis and basketball courts shone with new paint.
"Oh my God. Who is that?" Eliza asked in a stage whisper, when they reached the pool patio.
Lounging on a raft in the middle of the infinity pool was the most beautiful boy they had ever seen. His entire lean, bronzed body was caramel-colored, from his honey-blond hair to his nut-brown tan. A cigarette dangled from his lower lip. He was wearing aviator sunglasses and holding a frosted cocktail glass with an umbrella in it.
"Bonjour," the beautiful boy drawled, trailing a finger on the water.
Jacqui's chest heaved. Had she said, "No more boys"? Did it count if he was the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen?
He raised his sunglasses to appraise them, a playful smile on his lips.
"Hi," Mara said weakly.
"Bonjour yourself," Eliza shot back.
"Boa tarde. " Jacqui smiled.
"Je m'appelle Philippe Dufourg. You must be my coworkers, two of you at least," he said, in a sexy French accent.
"Coworker?" Mara asked. "You're not..."
He grinned, puffing on his cigarette and flicking his ashes into the chlorine-blue waters. "Mais oui. I am the new au pair."
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aren't rules made to be broken?
LAURIE FILLED THEM IN AS SHE LED THEM TO THE SERVANTS'
cottage--Philippe was the French nephew of the kids'regular nanny, who took every summer off to go home to Cornwall. He went to school in London--hence the (almost) perfect English-- and had arrived just that morning. Philippe was an aspiring tennis pro and hoped to bolster his reputation by winning the Rolex Invitational, which took place in East Hampton each July. Besides babysitting the children, he was going to give them private tennis lessons.