As I’ve said before, I’m no actress. Even if the Eli drama department weren’t one of the best in the country, I’d hardly be commandeering roles that weren’t of the “Girl on Left” or “Apple Tree” variety in campus productions. But I plastered a look of wonder on my face and went, “Wow.”
The Cavador Key tomb was decidedly not wow-worthy. There was a simple table in the center, sporting a scratched surface despite the layers of finish meant to spiff it up, and the chairs surrounding it included a few hardwoods, a mildewed wicker rocker, and three folding chairs. There was some art on the walls, grimy with smoke, and the upholstery on the armchairs and couches around the perimeter was faded.
I reminded myself that however unimpressive this building was, it represented a second property belonging to my society. The whole island, the free food, the fact that we employed this man to take care of it all—all spoke of a more-than-ample income. So we used folding chairs instead of the fine carved teak I was used to in New Haven! So what? We used it, as Clarissa had pointed out, on our own private island. Dragon’s Head couldn’t hold a cricket to that.
I began to grow very nervous about my future earning potential. What could I do for a living that would provide the type of spare cash that Rose & Grave no doubt expected out of their patriarchs? Jenny was already a millionaire, Clarissa an heiress, Odile a movie star. What could I do to make myself half as worthwhile?
“You haven’t even seen the best part,” he said, tossing his machete casually to the table. (Well, that would explain the scratches.) He crossed the room to a large hutch on the opposite side and flung the doors wide. “Look at this!”
I’d blown my wad on the first “wow.” But this was the one that actually deserved it.
“Those are swastikas,” I said, my voice flat. I was shocked the china had survived Demetria taking a look at them.
“Word is, one of our boys swiped them right from Adolf’s compound when they invaded Berlin.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say. That we had Hitler’s dishes sitting in a hutch seemed perverse to the extreme. “Why?” I finally managed.
“Why else?” Saltzman asked. “Because we beat him!”
Battle spoils. I nodded. I remembered Malcolm telling me about this one time. Still, I had no intention of ever eating off them. Gross.
The caretaker closed the hutch doors again, locking them with a tiny gold key. “Yep. There are lots of people who would do anything to see what we have hidden away here on Cavador Key. So you can see why I have to be so careful about who I let go sneaking around the place. I didn’t know you were a knight this morning.”
“Right.” Was it a little stuffy in here?
“I’m dead serious. You’ve got to keep constant vigilance around here. I catch trespassers all the time. I’ve made a proposal to the board about a couple of guard dogs.”
I pictured packs of pit bulls roaming the beach, with the machete-wielding Saltzman close behind. “That would be…”
“Especially recently.” He nodded. “What with all the troubles our poor Barebones has been going through.”
Barebones. Kurt Gehry.
“Too many people saw the family arriving at the airport down here, and it’s well known in town what we are. Ever since they got here we’ve been fending off boats loaded with photojournalists. There were even a couple of news helicopters.”
“Really?” Demetria had clearly been barking up the wrong tree last night. She should have been nicer to the caretaker. He seemed more than ready to talk about the Gehrys’ presence on the island.
“Vultures. Parasites.” He picked up the machete again, hefted it in his hands. “I’m sure our man’s got an excellent reason for his sabbatical.”
Our man. I began to wonder what Saltzman’s deal was. Not even Hale was this devoted an employee of the Trust. The caretaker of the New Haven tomb regularly called us on our bullshit. If we were too loud, or left a mess in the kitchen, or dared to skimp on coaster usage in the library, we were sure to get an earful in the next memo sent to our private Phimalarlico e-mail accounts.
“Have you been getting it bad up at the school?” he asked me.
I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”
“You know. For jumping to his defense and all. You’re the newspaper girl, right? Any backlash in the letters column?”
Um… “Backlash?”
“For your articles.”
Oh. My theoretical articles defending him. Of course. Well, this one didn’t require a lie. “I actually worked on the literary journal. We…stay out of politics, for the most part.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “Literary journal? That’s a new one for us, isn’t it?”
He had no idea.
“You might think about doing something, though. I’m sure the Eli Daily would take a guest editorial.”
“I’m sure,” I agreed, turning toward the door. Get me out of here. “I’m going to go check out the library. Thanks so much for showing me the tomb, sir.”
“Anytime, young lady,” he waved at me with his knife. “I’m going to get back to trimming those weeds.”
I guess that was indeed the proper purpose of a machete. Oddly enough, it was the least sketchy thing about the man. At the door, we went our separate ways, and I walked a little more quickly than necessary up to the main house, hoping that someone else had woken early.
Turns out, someone had. I entered the rec room and found Darren Gehry idly racking up the balls at the billiard table.
“Hey,” I said, stopping short just inside the room.
“Hey,” he replied.
“How you doing?”
He shrugged. “You okay?”
“Are you kidding?” I smiled. “I’m totally a celebrity. No one could stop talking about my little adventure yesterday.”
“Oh.” He looked down at the cue ball. “That’s…cool.”
I pointed at the table. “Want to play?”
“Do you think we’ll be too loud?”
“Good point.” I imagined the crack of the balls shattering the stillness of the Florida morning. “Darts, then?”
As Darren set up the board, I sifted around for topics of conversation that didn’t start off “So, sucks about your dad, huh?”
“Didn’t see you at dinner last night,” I finally said.
“We eat as a family,” he said. “We’ve got our own kitchen and all.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“Mom doesn’t wake up till late, though, so I usually get breakfast down here when the kitchen is serving. It’s much nicer. French toast and stuff.” He flicked a dart at the board, and it landed in double twenty. I had a ringer on my hands. “They’re supposed to do pancakes today.”
“Ooh, pancakes. Sounds great.” I watched him throw two more darts in quick succession, all closer to the center than I’d have predicted, then took my place at the line. My first throw went wide. “You’re much better than me,” I admitted.
“Nothing to do here,” he said. “I practice a lot.”
“What are you doing about school?” Oh, crap. I shouldn’t let on that I knew he’d been taken out of his school back in D.C. My second dart bounced off the board and landed in the carpet. I suck.
He frowned. “I’m not really supposed to talk about personal stuff.”
If I were his age, would my parents trust me with the kind of truth the Gehrys were facing? And regardless of the adults’ wishes, would I have the right to know? “Sorry, I don’t mean to—”
“Whatever. I’m homeschooled for now. But it’s pretty much a joke. I’m not doing anything. It’s not like we have a chemistry lab in the house. I do some math problems, read a couple of books.”
“What are you reading?” My third shot hit the mark underneath the three. Woo-hoo!
He gestured to the shelves around us. “You’re looking at it. Actually, I’m supposed to be picking something new right now.”