Page 14 of Considering Us

“I was,” she said. “They kicked me out after three days.”

This was a pattern with Adrienne, at least from what her father had told me. “What happened?”

“I borrowed the Dean of Student’s daughter’s horse for the afternoon. I rode it to Walden Pond. I figured it could use a swim. Hot day,” she said with a shrug.

I tried to imagine this scenario playing out and suppressed my laughter the best I could. It was a ridiculous prank. “Youtook a horse that wasn’t yours and rode it all the way to Walden Pond? Down actual roads?”

“I used my maps app and figured out some trails. But they had to close down the pond for a bit and kick paying guests out because I was in there with a horse, and it was a whole scene. So yes, I was asked to leave the school immediately.”

“You could probably get your own horse if you asked your parents,” I said with a sigh.

“I know,” she replied. “But I would have to keep it out in the suburbs, and I wouldn’t get to see it much. It wouldn’t be very practical.”

She was an odd child but likely correct when it came to being able to spend time with a horse. “I can see that. Okay, so you’re here. Why Rockwood? I would think your mother wouldn’t want you anywhere near me.”

Adrienne fiddled with her shoelaces. “She doesn’t even know you’re here. I didn’t know you were here until I showed up to lunch the other day. For whatever reason, my mother thinks this place is fantastic. They were willing to take me despite my impressive record, and she sent me up here with the driver. She didn’t even drop me off.”

I had to ask. “And your, um, father?”

She rolled her eyes. “She sent him off to Canyon Ranch in the Berkshires for a month to find inner peace or lose weight or something. She calls the shots anyway. You know the money is hers, right?”

I didn’t. Bentley and I had never discussed the origins of their family’s wealth, but I knew he worked as a hedge fund manager, so I had made assumptions. But if the real money was Julianna’s, it made sense that she was the one making the big decisions. “There’s obviously a lot I don’t know,” I said. “And you and I are going to have to coexist. So, let’s start here. What’ssomething from home you miss eating? I didn’t ask you with the other students around, but I’d love to know now.”

Adrienne looked to the side like she was trying to avoid something. “Your Chicken Milanese,” she acquiesced. “I hate to admit it, but it was my favorite.”

I was getting somewhere. “Itisgood, isn’t it? I’m afraid to know what you three ate after I left.”

She made a face. “It was really bad. She started getting food delivered from all these different restaurants, but everything was cold or soggy. Too much salt. Dad refused to eat more than a bite. He’d leave and go get ice cream. And then she decided he was eating too much of that and booked the Canyon Ranch visit.”

I groaned. Strangely, I didn’t miss Bentley at all, but we had bonded over our shared love of dairy. “Well,” I said, clearing my throat. “You lucked out then, coming here. We’re going to make Chicken Milanese tomorrow night.” I hadn’t planned for it, but now I knew we had to.

8

“‘Sup, Dev,” David Anders grunted from a weight bench in the middle of his living room where his coffee table used to be. His trainer, Johnny, was spotting him as he bench-pressed a ridiculous amount of weight. “One more set, Dev. Sorry ‘bout this,” he murmured in his Southern drawl. I walked past them and into the kitchen, where I silently started unloading the cooler bags on the counter.

“Okay,” he said, sitting up and wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel that Johnny handed him. “I’m good, man. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Johnny waved goodbye to me and left the condo, leaving us alone.

“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting on the leather chair next to the weight bench. “Since when are you working out here instead of the gym downstairs?” David didn’t like going anywhere he didn’t have to, and it worried me that he might be leaving his condo even less now.

He shook his head, taking a gulp of Gatorade. “Since some punk-ass down there told me that my game sucks and the Celts should trade me. I don’t need that shit. But the thing is, then I start thinking maybe he’s right. And it’s stuck in my head. I’ve been playing like crap, and I can’t seem to snap out of it.”

“You scored eight points last night,” I said, handing him a cookie. “That’s not horrible.”

“That was the most I’ve scored so far this season. I need to break into double digits again.”

“Dude,” I said, shaking my head. “The preseason literally just started last week. I can’t believe it’s October already. But you have plenty of time. And you’re home now for a few games. That’ll be good.”

“Oh yeah, my mom’s going to call you. I’ve got a game in LA at the beginning of December that she can’t go to—some medical conference. She wants you to go.”

“Oh,” I said with a nod, trying to keep a smile on my face. I had done this a few times during my tenure working for David and his mother, but I used to have more control over my schedule. I didn’t want to give him anything else to stress about, considering his uncertain state of mind. “Sounds good. Just tell her to give me a call.”

“Cool,” he said, giving me a high-five. “So, how’s it going? How’s fall up there in the north woods?”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call it that. If there’s a Whole Foods nearby, I consider it a place that is at least suburban. But yeah, the leaves are changing, and there are a ton of confused tourists going through St. George’s trying to find Wentworth by the Sea in New Castle. Wrong island! They get confused because there’s a dorm with the same name. Anyway, I’m figuring out the job and starting to win over the kids, so that’s good.” I left out Kyle,The Underground Stallion, Adrienne Preston, Ashlyn Lark, and a host of other things. Details, details. I tried to clear them from my head.

“What’s the key to winning over people? I feel like I should take notes or something. I’m on the struggle bus with this,” he said, shaking his head. According to David’s mother, his shyness had always been an issue. Even now, he sometimes found himself in hot water for not talking to the press the way his contract stipulated he needed to. It wasn’t malicious oranything; the guy was just hesitant and introverted. But he could rip it up on the basketball court.

“Cookies, David. That’s all I got. I make them these cookies,” I said, pointing at the plate I had brought over to the living room with me. “They call me the Cookie Lady now. I used to be Boston’s private chef to the rich and famous. Now I’m the Cookie Lady.”

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