She stalks away, leaving us in silence. I glance at the twins apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’m guessing her sudden appearance has something to do with my parents. If I don’t deal with her, she’ll just come back.”
“Guess that’s our cue, then.”
“Just because I have to go doesn’t mean you do! Stay. Tan. I’ll be back eventually. Unless Mrs. Granger plans to knock me unconscious, wrap me in styrofoam, and ship me back to Switzerland against my will.”
“She seems the type.” Ophelia stretches her arms over her head. “Text us if you need extraction.”
“The clouds are moving in anyway.” Odette drains the final sip from her glass. “Besides, you know we’ll be back for more gossip once you’ve made up with your man.”
Ophelia points at me. “Spare no details!”
“Okay, okay. I promise,” I say, laughing.
The twins gather their belongings, layer on their sarongs, and slide on their sandals. They each give me a long hug before they depart.
“Don’t wait too long to tell him how you feel,” Ophelia whispers in my ear. “I know it’s scary to open yourself up to hurt again. It’s tough to play the game. But I think it’s way more terrifying to sit on the sidelines. Love isn’t a spectator sport. So put on your helmet and step up to the plate.”
“Did you just make a baseball metaphor?”
She shrugs, grinning at me. “Seemed appropriate, given the man in question.”
“Thanks, O.”
She chucks me lightly beneath the chin, then follows her twin down the garden path that leads to the driveway. I take a fortifying breath before I turn for the house — and the miffed housekeeper awaiting me inside.
* * *
Mrs. Granger is standing in the kitchen, as promised. Her expression is no more welcoming now than it was back at the pool.
“Miss Valentine.”
“Mrs. Granger.” I fold my arms over my chest. This might be more intimidating if I weren’t clad in a polka dot-bikini. “What seems to be the problem?”
“I received a phone call from your mother this morning. It seems Cormorant House is to be shuttered for the season, starting next week. The access codes will reset at midnight on Monday.”
The day after tomorrow.
I exhale softly.
It’s a blow — one I was foolish not to anticipate, but a blow nonetheless. I should’ve known they’d kick me out as soon as I dared rebel. Not that I particularly wanted to stay. I’ve already inquired with the Student Housing office at Brown about alternative accommodations in the undergraduate dorms — I could have a placement on campus by mid-August. Despite my desire to leave this place behind… it’s still somewhat surreal to hear that my parents are just as keen to cut ties.
Surreal, but not exactly surprising.
Kicking me off their property — via the housekeeper, no less — is just the kind of cold, calculated move my parents make in their business endeavors. I no longer serve their endgame; as such, I will be excised from their life without hesitation. Without so much as a conversation.
No more support — financial or otherwise.
It’s somewhat exhilarating.
Terrifying, but exhilarating.
I’m free.
I have no idea where I’ll be sleeping starting tomorrow. I have no money to my name except that left to me by my grandparents in a small trust, and the meager salary I earned as an intern at VALENT. But in this moment, I don’t mind.
I’m finally free.
“This will be my last full day here on the property,” Mrs. Granger tells me flatly. “I’ve already begun emptying out the refrigerator and covering the furnishings with sheets. I should be done in a few hours. If you need help packing your belongings—”