Watch Out for Her Read online

  Maybe she doesn’t know exactly what she wants from life, but does she want this? Her mind is spinning today; she’s out of sorts. She looks at her father as he smiles proudly at her. He doesn’t get it. Every time she’s approached the subject of her sales meetings, he veers away. He doesn’t quite realize how much of Holly it takes to make these powerful men invest. When she manages to lure one in, it’s the best thing in the world. Her father laughs and hugs her, lavishes her with praise and love, tells her he’s the luckiest man in the world to have a daughter like her. So why isn’t she happy? Why isn’t it enough that she’s his little girl, the apple of his eye?

  Holly hears the click-clack of Lisette’s heels echoing dangerously on the Italian hardwood in the atrium. Fuck. Here she comes. Holly smells her before she sees her. Lisette’s expensive perfume clogs the air. Her stepmother’s dressed for her day of ladies lunching in a floral sundress that hugs her gym-toned curves. She stands next to Holly, her blunt-cut black hair sprayed into a helmet.

  “Your interview with the Goldmans is at nine,” she says to Holly.

  “Interview?” John asks as he pops a piece of mango in his mouth, smiling at his wife and daughter like they’re his treasures. Or chattels.

  Lisette grins, her face muscles barely twitching through the Botox. “Yes. Daniel Goldman is looking for a babysitter for their six-year-old son. They want someone all summer so his wife, Sarah, can have some time to herself.” She reaches for a porcelain cup on the credenza and pours coffee from the silver French press. “Don’t you remember him mentioning it at lunch last Sunday?”

  “I don’t think I heard that. But Holly babysitting for the Goldmans is an excellent idea. I like Daniel. He’s done very well for himself as COO of Code Tek. He’s moving up. Also, he’s a smart investor, so I think there’s potential there. For us, I mean.” He does this sometimes, talks about Holly like she isn’t there.

  Lisette hovers next to her. She puts her hand on Holly’s bare shoulder, but it’s far from comforting. Holly looks at the woman who’s a poor substitute for the mother she never knew. Her own mother, Caitlin, died giving birth to her. Holly isn’t sure her father has ever forgiven her for killing his wife. To Holly, his marriage to Lisette is a punishment meant for her.

  The fact that Lisette hasn’t yet moved means she’s waiting. She wants something. In the beginning, Holly tried to tell her father how sad Lisette made her, but he was so in love with the sultry beauty and truly believed Lisette loved Holly as much as she loved her own daughter, Alexis, and him. Men. They could be so dumb.

  Holly has long given up on any kind of mother-daughter relationship with this woman. At least Holly has Alexis, her stepsister and best friend, the product of Lisette’s first, short-lived marriage to a man whose name Lisette never utters.

  Holly was six when she met eleven-year-old Alexis. They forged an immediate bond, making it easy for Lisette to place the responsibility of Holly’s care on Alexis’s capable shoulders. Holly knows she’s blessed with her mother’s natural beauty, whereas Alexis is big-boned and clumsy, not at all the kind of girl—then or now—who’s the obvious glamour at a posh party or fancy event. The only time Lisette has ever showered attention on Holly is when she needs her, as she does now—for appearances, or for some kind of dirty work.

  John pushes his chair back, then nods at Holly. “Babysitting would be a beneficial addition to your résumé if you want to specialize in pediatrics for your residency. The market for children’s medicine is growing exponentially. It could be very useful. You should know that Daniel Goldman has friends in high places. I’ve seen him at the Canyon Club talking to Charlie. He’s also golfed with me and Stan Fielding recently.”

  Useful. Holly doesn’t want to babysit some whiny kid so his mother can get mani/pedis all summer long. Or hear about Stan Fielding, the CEO of a major oil company, her father’s golf partner, and longtime investor in the family firm. But the way her father is looking at her, with adoration and pride, and the greedy glint in Lisette’s eyes leaves her no choice. She’s a Monroe. It’s her job to help expand the empire. It’s interesting, though, the double standard. Alexis has never been invited to work with Health ProX. And she’s definitely not expected to woo clients. If anything, Holly’s father and Lisette want her as far away from the business as possible.

  Holly gets up from the table.

  “Wait,” Lisette says.

  For a split second, Holly imagines her stepmother might say something encouraging. “Yes?” She hates the hope that leaps in her chest but can’t stop it.

  “Bring a bathing suit to the Goldman interview. They have a pool.”

  “Okay,” she says. Even as she says it, she resents how sweet and obedient the word sounds as it leaves her mouth. It’s a complete betrayal of everything in her heart.

  Holly trudges up the spiral stairs to her wing in the massive Forest View house, passing Alexis’s old bedroom, now Lisette’s personal gym. It looks nothing like it did when Alexis lived here. Alexis moved out two years ago, because at twenty-five and a nursing school graduate, it was time to make her own way. It’s what she wanted. Now she lives in Lynnmour, a ten-minute drive from here, in a basement apartment. It’s a bare-bones one-bedroom because Alexis hasn’t been able to find a nursing job. Caring and attentive, Alexis would be a wonderful nurse, but she doesn’t interview well. She has no idea how to sell herself. That’s Holly’s domain.

  Holly misses having Alexis in the house so much. She’s good to the core, the most selfless, kindest person Holly has ever known. And yet only Holly seems to miss her. The PETA posters and colorful tapestries that adorned the blue walls have been replaced with floor-to-ceiling mirrors so Lisette can watch herself work out from every angle.

  Holly pines for the days when Alexis flopped awkwardly on her bed every time she wanted to talk, which was always, and how she ordered sausage pizza, because it was Holly’s favorite, on their movie nights in Holly’s bedroom because she has the large-screen television. For her stepsister, Holly has always come first. Even when Alexis was thirteen and was invited to a sleepover at Sloane Perkins’s, the coolest student in seventh grade, she chose Holly over the “it girl.”

  Alexis is the only person who fully accepts Holly. Of course, she only accepts her because she doesn’t know everything. And she can never find out.

  Holly sighs as she walks into her perfectly pink bedroom. She pushes the curtains apart and stares out her window, pressing her face to the glass. When her window’s open, she can hear the water rush down the Capilano River below. To everyone else, this place is paradise; to Holly, it’s a prison with a nice view.

  She knows her relationship with her stepmother isn’t normal, but she couldn’t find the words to describe it until she took an elective in psychology this past year. Now she understands that Lisette is a classic narcissist; Alexis is her albatross, and Holly her pawn. The only lesson Lisette has imparted is that love is conditional. The professor of the course, Luke Phillips, taught Holly a lot about human behavior. She smiles to herself as she thinks about it. This is one relationship Lisette hasn’t orchestrated.

  Why didn’t Holly tell her stepmother to go to hell? Why does Lisette have the right to tell Holly what job she has to take, how to behave, what to say? She’s tired of being a Barbie, the trophy daughter.

  Holly pulls on a navy one-piece, throws on her jean shorts, a tank top, and a hoodie, and grabs her backpack. On her way out the door, she spots Lisette’s emerald earrings on the front hall table. She shoves them in her pocket, relishing the thrill that courses through her as she takes them just because she can.

  Her irritation spikes when she gets to the circular driveway. “Damn it, Lisette.” Like a child, she kicks the tire of her stepmother’s Mercedes that blocks in the white Jeep her father gave Holly on her eighteenth birthday. She knows if she goes back inside and asks Lisette to move it, she’ll only blame Holly and say that when she was young, she never had her own vehicle—“Girls these days
are spoiled beyond belief. Not Alexis, of course, but others.” She’ll give Holly the silent treatment for at least a full day and complain about how even though one of her little birds has flown the nest, the house still feels too busy sometimes. Holly doesn’t have the energy or the bandwidth for more guilt and blame to be piled on her shoulders today. The burden she carries right now is heavy enough.

  She drags her bike from the back of the garage and decides to cycle the ten minutes to Cliffside Road, where the Goldmans live.

  When she makes a right onto Montroyal Boulevard, her phone buzzes in her backpack. She stops, even though she might arrive at the Goldmans’ a bit late.

  “Hey, I can’t talk,” Holly tells Alexis when her round face fills the whole screen. She always holds the phone too close. She doesn’t wear makeup anymore, not since she left home two years ago.

  “You’re all dewy under that helmet. Where are you going?”

  “Biking to a babysitting interview. Your mother. Don’t ask.”

  “Babysitting? I thought you were helping John with sales all summer.”

  “I am. Day job, night job.”

  Alexis shakes her head, then turns to someone behind her.

  That’s when Holly realizes where her stepsister is. She’s at work. And behind her is Luke. When Alexis couldn’t land a job in her field, Holly stepped in. She arranged for Alexis to work part-time over the summer, filing and researching for Holly’s former psychology professor. Holly practically had to beg Luke—and more.

  “Please. Alexis is amazing. A super hard worker, diligent. Totally different from me. She needs real work experience if she’s ever going to get a job as a nurse.”

  “I’m not sure I can handle two Monroe women,” he teased, kissing Holly’s shoulder, because she’d snuck him into her bed while her dad and Lisette were in the opposite wing of the house, completely unaware he was there.

  Holly shivers now, her stomach tightening with guilt. There are so many things she can only accomplish one way. Alexis still has no idea about Holly’s relationship with Luke. No one does. So many secrets. But Holly’s liaison with the professor is cooling. She got what she wanted. She’s not into him at all anymore. He’s a loose end she has no energy to tie up.

  Holly refocuses on Alexis. “I’ve got to get to the Goldmans’ house. Your mother wants me to take care of their kid. The dad’s recently joined the Canyon Club.”

  “Ah,” Alexis says. “I see.”

  “They have a pool at least. You good?”

  “Yes. Want to come over after work? Or go out? Thai and a movie?”

  Does she want to? She doesn’t want to go home, where Lisette and her father will grill her about Daniel Goldman and coax her to ask him questions about his finances. And she should probably break up with Luke tonight, get that over with.

  “Maybe. I’ll text you when I’m done,” Holly says.

  “Okay. Drink water. Love you. Oh, Dr. Phillips says hello.”

  “Say hi back.” Holly clears her throat. “Love you, too.”

  She clicks off, exhales a heavy breath, and cycles up Cliffside Road to an earth-colored detached home with aluminum siding and a porch with two white wicker chairs and a small wrought iron table. It’s a nice, regular family house, unlike the gilded cage she lives in.

  Leaving her bike propped up near the basketball net on the driveway, Holly pulls off her helmet, hangs it on one of the handlebars, then ties her hoodie around her waist. She grits her teeth as she lifts a hand to knock on the Goldmans’ red door.

  It bangs open, and a little boy in Iron Man pajamas hops over the basketball on the porch, hurtling past her, right into the street without checking for oncoming cars.

  Instinctively, Holly runs and catches him around the waist. “Hey, speedy, the end of the driveway is the stop line, okay?”

  The boy regards her with bright blue eyes, his shaggy blond hair falling in his face. He grins, and two dimples deepen his rosy cheeks. If she has to babysit, at least this kid is adorable.

  He runs back to the open door where a woman appears, tugging a hand through her shoulder-length, limp blond hair. She looks shaky and tired, but her smile is friendly and warm. She wears no makeup and does not look like one of Lisette’s society ladies. Holly can’t imagine her lunching with Lisette’s gaggle of shallow girlfriends.

  “Hi, Holly. I’m Sarah, and this monkey is Jacob.”

  Jacob gives her an impish grin.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Thank you. As you can see, Jacob needs to learn a few things, including how not to run out into the road.” Sarah scolds her son, but it’s accompanied with an affectionate head shake. “Or answer the door by himself before I can make it upstairs from the basement. I was in my red room just now.”

  “Red room?” Holly instantly thinks of “redrum” and shudders a little. She used to ask Alexis if they could watch The Shining when their parents went out. And Alexis would say, “Only if you promise to come to my room and not Mom and John’s if you have a nightmare.” Holly always had nightmares and always climbed into Alexis’s bed.

  She’s so lost in her thoughts she fails to register what Sarah just said. She snaps her attention back to the woman in front of her.

  “Anyway, I’m a photographer. The red room is my darkroom. Jacob calls it that because of the red lighting. I’ll show you sometime, if you want. If you’re into photography at all.”

  “I am into photography,” Holly says. “I like travel shots.”

  “Nice,” Sarah says. “I like travel shots, too, but these days, I stay pretty close to home. I shoot what I see around me.” She looks at her son, who’s pulling at her arm.

  Sarah is the polar opposite of Lisette. Warm eyes rather than cold ones, her posture inviting rather than rigid. She’s friendly and open, if a little tightly wound.

  “Do you have an Instagram account I can follow?” Holly asks, then grins at Jacob, who’s obviously desperate for her attention. “I’ll bet you can jump really high.”

  “Watch this!” And he leaps into the air.

  “Awesome!”

  Sarah says, “Careful, Jacob,” then turns back to Holly. “I don’t know a thing about Instagram. I’m on Facebook, though.” She shrugs. “But even that confuses me. Posts and tags and those emojicons.”

  Holly bites back a smile. “Emojis, yeah. It’s all confusing at first.” She already feels at ease with this down-to-earth mom with no social media sense. “If you’re a photographer, Insta’s the best platform for you. I can help you set up an account if you ever want.”

  Sarah touches her throat. “Oh, that’s a very kind offer. Let’s see how it goes. I haven’t worked as a professional photographer since I got pregnant with Jacob. It’s been such a long time. It’s all just a lot right now, you know?”

  “Of course. I totally understand,” Holly says. She beams at the active little boy standing between them. He hasn’t stopped moving throughout their entire conversation. “Can I see your basketball skills?”

  “My dad says I’m the dribble master!” He runs to the other side of the porch, retrieves his basketball, and dribbles on the spot like a pro. He stops and waits for praise.

  “Nice work!” Holly fist-bumps him and turns to Sarah. “My Instagram handle is ‘HollyGoLightly99,’ by the way. In case you ever want to check it out.”

  “Like from Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” Sarah asks.

  “Yes. One of my favorites.”

  “That’s so funny. I love that movie, too,” Sarah replies.

  Holly takes out her phone and angles it toward Sarah so she can view her feed: the selfies Holly has taken at the beach, on campus, and her latest favorite—a shot of her holding Becoming by Michelle Obama, a book she hasn’t yet read. Her picture-perfect life that looks great on this device but is a mess off-screen.

  “Wow. You have a good eye. Shall we go in?”

  Holly can’t tell if Sarah’s compliment is genuine. Sarah steers Jacob into the house, and Ho
lly follows. Once inside, she puts her phone in her backpack. The interior is all light grays and creams, with splashes of orange and teal in accent pieces like pillows and end tables. It feels like a home, in contrast to her own house, which Lisette has designed to look like a special feature section in a magazine.

  Jacob runs ahead, and while Holly and Sarah walk to the living room, they pass framed photos on the walls, stunning shots of Capilano River park, the Cleveland Dam, and the suspension bridge, candids of Jacob with his father, Daniel. He’s a good-looking man—a full head of brown hair, a boyish face, brown eyes, and a strong jaw—but he definitely looks like all the other Forest View dads she knows—rich, busy, and bland.

  “These are beautiful.” Holly points to the photos of Daniel and Jacob, mid-leap in the Pacific Ocean at low tide. Sarah caught them at the perfect moment, the waves rolling under their bare feet, faces lit up with joy and freedom. Holly’s heart twinges. What does that feel like?

  “Oh, thank you,” Sarah says, and looks over to the couch, where Jacob is now standing up, arms outstretched like he wants to fly. “Jacob, don’t you dare.” She blows out a breath and turns back to Holly. “Daniel thought it would be good for me to do something for myself this summer. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for a long time.” She walks to the couch and points to the floor. “Get down, please.”

  Holly stifles a smile at Jacob’s fearless mischievousness. Then she looks out the large picture windows to the backyard, where an in-ground pool glitters under the sun.