Vere intercepts me at the entrance to the pool deck and points me toward an awesome looking cabana tent at the edge of the pool. She’s pushing a cart loaded with cheddar cheese so perfectly aged that it’s crumbling. Brie cheese that’s so fresh it looks like pure snow on a plate. There’s sea-salt topped crackers, dripping melon slices sprinkled with fresh mint, a gorgeous hand blown glass dish spilling over with raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries, and I nearly die when I eye the monster-sized tub of Nutella, adorable mini condiments, and a plate laid out like a flower, made out of salami, ham, turkey. There’s also the cutest, mini baguettes I’ve ever seen.

“It’s all too beautiful to touch,” I whisper, sitting down, trying not to gape like a hillbilly who’s never left her own home town, but the gorgeous black bottomed, shimmering pool that’s next to us looks like it’s made out of natural granite or possibly Italian marble. “Wow, all of this is so…wow,” I whisper, meeting her eyes.

Not understanding I’m saying wow about this deck, the view, and the entire life she takes for granted, Vere answers, “The meat flower impresses me every time, too. The bread will be warm from the oven. It always is so prepare to die of happiness. Someone orders this every day so we can smile at it and gobble it down.” She claps her hands again. “Dig in.” She grabs a dripping wet pitcher. “They also send iced tea. The kind loaded with caffeine. Do you want some?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Vere pours us two glasses, pausing to gulp down a few sips of iced tea. “Now…where were we? Oh, yes. Who are you, and how old are you, and what’s your whole life story?” She grins cracking into a baguette.

Working to keep up with her apparent endless excitement about everything, I pull the cart up next to us, pick up the silver tray that the feast is resting on, and get it from the room service cart onto the table in the center of the tent-cabana. Hoping she doesn’t flag me for not answering all of her loaded questions, I answer only: “I—I’m almost eighteen.”

“Ah ha! Knew it. Royce vowed you’re only fifteen and lying about your age. But he only said that after Mrs. Felix told us that you’d called him an old man way before you decked him. Did we ever laugh so hard when they were telling the story. For that matter, we laughed so hard when you actually decked him and took off while we all watched. We’re still laughing every time we see his face.”

Avoiding the part where I decked my boss, I answer only, “He does seem way older.” I bite happily into the salami and cheese sandwich I’d created, and with a full mouth add, “Because who knows how to order a fancy meat-shaped flower like this one, if you aren’t…older.”

“Right?” Vere starts taking one of each thing from the food tray and piling it all onto a small side plate. “Royce looks older because of how serious he always is. Oh, and because of that beard thing he’s got—which, by the way, has the ladies of all ages going nuts for him on Instagram.”

“Mrs. Felix told me about that.”

“She did?” She pauses to laugh and then drops a piece of salami into her mouth and eating it before going on, “The stylists are begging him to keep it, or worse, grow it out more! They want Adam to do a beard, too. What do you think of beards? We argue over this topic all the time.”

“If you’re the kind of person who likes your rockstars to look extra sinister, dark and smolder-sexy then, yeah, okay, Royce’s beard works very well. I guess.”

She raises one brow. “So you’re the kind of person that likes that look then? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Ehh.” I pull a face, evading a direct answer while I toss three of the giant raspberries into my mouth, and change the subject by adding, "Mmm. Love raspberries."

While Vere slathers an excessive amount of Nutella onto the next baguette I feel guilty about all of this abundance and ask, “Should we offer the security guard something to eat?”

“Oh. No. He eats with the other bodyguards.”

I nod, wondering how many other bodyguards there might be floating around here. “Is it strange to you, living like this? In hotels? With so many people that are hired to help while others are always watching you?”

“Completely bizarre. Yes. Sometimes it feels like a prison. But like everything, you will get used to it. It’s a real home and a family, of a sort. The only family we all have, and a great one.” Mouth full, she goes on, “So…have you graduated from high school, then?”

“Yes. I—we. We just moved.” I evade explaining who the ‘we’ includes in my comment, by adding, “I didn’t get to attend my graduation. I’ll have a diploma and I need to get my final transcripts and all that sent over. But yes. Just finished senior year.”

“Ugh. I hated the word transcript when I was a senior. So annoying, all of the college application hoops they make you jump through. Essay after essay and then that common app.” She mock-shudders. “Such bad memories. Will you go to a college in the fall?”

I take a huge bite of my sandwich, holding up a finger and chewing slowly, finally swallowing, while deciding to tell her the truth. My school choices probably don’t need to be kept secret. “I have a scholarship. A dream scholarship. It’s a full ride to Ridley Art Academy in New York City. But I’ve deferred.”

“Why? Hello. Your future awaits. Why defer?” She gets the Nutella off her chin by dashing over and dipping her napkin into the pool water.

“I’m taking a year off to think…and to do…different stuff. Try things I’ve never tried.” I make my voice extra cheery and wave the baby monitor around. “Like this cool nanny job.”

“Ridley. Why have I heard of that school? Wait. I’ve seen it.” She comes to a dead stop in front of me, twirling her wet napkin. “The complex is right next to Mrs. Felix’s flagship hotel in Midtown Manhattan. Is your school—next to the Orb Hotel?”

Unable to ignore how great the Nutella looks any longer, I grab my own baguette. “That’s the one.”

Vere pauses eating to tighten the rubber band around her bun. “The Orb NYC is Mrs. Felix’s main place of residence, which makes it our main house, too. It’s set up kind of like this place. Commune style with the shared massive living room, kitchen and dining but with hallways still set up in hotel suites. Each suite there, has its own kitchen inside and we all have actual apartments so we can hide out if we’re not feeling social. It’s smack in the best area of Manhattan. I love it there.” She makes her eyes go round. “Gosh. If you go to this Ridley place, then we’ll get to hang out some. A lot! We’re going to be neighbors!”

“Maybe,” I answer noncommittally, because I’m sure after this job is over, and as nice as Vere seems to be, the Guarderobe people are not going to hang around with the hired help they met down in Florida.

Vere’s hand goes lightning fast to her phone, and she opens Google. “Ridley. Ridley. Hmm. Why have I heard of Ridley?”

“A lot of people who are into art know about it.”

“Wow…it’s top five in the world!” She shows me the school’s website on her phone and the sight of it tugs at my longing for how badly I’ve missed staring at that website, and how badly I want to be there at the end of this summer. “So what do you do? Fine Arts or design?”

“Both, I guess. I like to paint and draw. Maybe I’d like to be a sculptor, but it’s expensive and intimidating.”

She’s dragging her finger over her touch screen. “Holy cow, it’s, like, 90k for one year to go there. You must be an artistic prodigy or something to get a full ride scholarship. And you’re lucky, because if you’re going there, you must know what you want to do with your life. I’m always so jealous of people who know that. I’m still deciding. Everything I study seems so great. I find that I want to major in pretty much…everything. Only that’s not allowed. Being an artist would be great.”

Grinning at her, I pour some blueberries out on a side plate and watch them roll until they stop. “You make it sound so romantic, but anyone can create art. Like I mentioned I’m taking a year off to think because I’m actually not so sure if I’m good enough. What if I don’t have what it takes?”

“It says here they accept only one percent of all applicants, so uncertainties aside, let’s not gloss over your awesomeness.” She pauses and blinks up at me, contemplating my face all over again, and I feel my cheeks go hot. All I can do is shake my head and hope she’s going to change the subject. She adds, “You’re really humble, aren’t you? And maybe, shy?”

I look away. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you do ask a lot of questions.”

Unoffended, she cracks up and sets down her phone. “I know. I know. Hunter says I give people headaches, and that I’m like a ping-pong ball. And you’re nice…so nice, like Mrs. Felix and Gregory said you were. I’m pretty sure by your expression you want to tell me to shut up right now, but you haven’t?” Her grin grows wider when I don’t answer. “I think I really, really like you, new bestie. I, do.”

Relieved she’s let the subject of my scholarship and my shyness drop, I grin back at her. “Yeah, okay, thanks, ping-pong girl. I also like you. But just like how you can’t decide on a major, I get the impression you like everyone and everything by default. I only just met you but I suspect it’s got to be part of your personality.”

She crosses her arms. “Yes, I like everyone and everything, but like Mrs. Felix said, you’re the real deal, and I really do like you. A lot. Which is why I’m keeping you as a friend forever.”

“Thanks.” I shake my head again, and leave off the argument that she doesn’t even know me. I pick up the baby monitor, answering only, “Do you want to go with me to check the baby?”

She leaps away from the tray and is already heading back into the suite. “Yes! Race you.” We come to a skidding halt just outside of the pool cabana and I slam into her back just as she says, “Royce Devlin! What are you doing outside this tent? Eavesdropping again? Have you just been standing here, listening? You’re so chronic. It’s rude, you know?”

“I…didn’t want to interrupt.”

“So busted. How long have you been out here?”

His voice rumbles down my spine when he answers, “Long enough to Google that Ridley school for myself.”

Embarrassed and also wondering what he’s overheard I stay directly behind Vere and don’t move so I don’t have to look at him. No need to get all flustered and awkward.

“Come check the baby with us, stalker,” Vere says, unaware of my discomfort or my determination to not look at anyone above the kneecaps. She pulls at Royce’s arm.

“No thanks. My baby shift starts after the nanny’s gone. I was honestly just coming to see if you had leftovers on the food cart. Do you?”

“Sure you were,” Vere laughs in a teasing tone. “Sorry, though. We’ve demolished everything. Come with us to see your little girl, and I’ll order you more food?”

“Again, no thanks,” he says, and then in one whoosh, executed so quickly I can feel the air moving like a windstorm around us, he’s disengaged himself from Vere’s grip.

The guy’s done the world’s fastest 180 and he’s speed walking away!

“Royce. Come on,” Vere’s shouting as we follow him off the pool deck.

As he gains distance and we enter the living room area again, I step out from behind Vere. The guy is halfway down the marble hallway that leads to some of the rooms. I note how he hasn’t even glanced toward where his baby is housed as he passes by the nursery room.

Vere turns to smile at me, shaking her head and cracking up. “See? It’s like I said. He’s totally afraid of you and that baby. So funny. Wait. Again, why are you not smiling? If you knew him you’d laugh so hard right now.”

I shake my head, just as the baby starts squeaking through the monitor speaker. “Maybe to you he’s funny, but to me there’s nothing funny about a father who won’t take every chance he can get to check on his own daughter. I’m sorry, but if he keeps doing this I don’t think I can ever like him. And I’m pretty sure I will never find him funny.”