Cinderella Steals Home (2 page)

A tanned dark-haired girl dressed in a white bikini pops up from the water and brushes her hair back with a giggle.

"Did you see me, Justin? How'd you rate my splash? Perfect ten like always, right?"
 

It takes her a second to realize she has an audience.
 

"Oh!" she says, catching sight of me and my father. "Hi, Mr. Shaw."
 

Dad's shoulders twitch like he's trying not to sigh too loudly. "Hello, Katie," he says in a less-than-pleasant tone. "Justin, your sister's home."
 

Justin hasn't taken his eyes off me since he first noticed me standing here. He looks like he isn't really sure how to react to seeing me.

I have to say, I know the feeling.
 

But he gets over it pretty quickly.
 

"Holly! It's really you!" He swims over to the edge of the pool nearest me and hoists himself out of the water and runs over, flinging his arms around me.
 

"Ugh, Justin, you're all wet."
 

He shrugs and laughs. "So are you."

I sigh and roll my eyes, but it's hard not to smile. He's still the same goofy big brother I remember all those years ago even if I haven't lived with him in almost a decade.
 

"How ya doin', kid?" he asks.

"I'm good," I say, and it's mostly true. I'm not bad, anyway. "How are
you
?"
 

"Meh," he replies. "Could be worse. How's Mom?"
 

This time, I can't stop the sigh from slipping out between my lips. "She's happy."
 

He nods once. "Good," he says, then takes a step back and makes a grand sweeping gesture at the yard and pool. "What's mine is yours. Make yourself at home."
 

"Don't forget our dinner plans tonight, Justin," Dad says sharply.

"Yeah, yeah, Dad, I got it. You only told me twelve times today."
 

"I wouldn't remind you if I didn't think I had to."
 

I look back and forth between them. There's an obvious tension here, one that I know nothing about, but I've got a feeling I'm about to become all too familiar with it.
 

"Holly," Dad says, turning to me with a smile. "We thought we would have dinner together tonight. You me, Tanya and Justin, that is. Whadda ya say?"
 

Truthfully, I haven't given much thought to what I'd do for meals out in Arizona at all, so if Dad's offering, I'm not really in a position to say no. Even if I'd probably rather avoid the one-big-happy-family thing for as long as I can.
 

"Sure, that'll be great."
 

Dad nods, satisfied. "Justin, get your sister's things out of her car and put them in her room."
 

"I have company." Justin nods to Katie, who's taken to sunning herself on the pool's tanning ledge. She doesn't look particularly interested in our family reunion.
 

"Now," Dad says, tossing a dry towel at him.
 

Justin sighs and drapes it across his shoulders. "Car keys?" he asks me.
 

I dig them out of my back pocket and toss them to him. He snags them out of the air with ease.
 

"Be right back," he says to Katie, who just waves her arm in response without looking up.
 

Lovely.

I'm pretty sure she has an easier time making herself at home in my dad's house than I ever will.
 

"I'm going to help your brother," Dad says to me. "Why don't you head upstairs and pick any of the bedrooms you like? They're all free except for Justin's, and I don't think you'll have a problem figuring out which that is."

I nod. "Okay. Thanks."
 

He smiles at me, obviously thrilled with how this afternoon has unfolded so far, before following my brother around to the front yard.
 

I stand here for a minute, trying to collect myself with deep breaths, when Katie pushes herself up onto her elbows and lifts her sunglasses to look at me.
 

"Where'd you come from anyway?" she asks.

"Pennsylvania."
 

"Oh." She doesn't look impressed. "Why?"
 

"My mom moved to Europe with her new husband," I reply, not blinking an eye. "I didn't have a choice."
 

She nods sympathetically. "My dad takes his girlfriends to Italy all the time," she says, cracking her gum. "I know how you feel."
 

I look at her, surprised to find an ally in such an unlikely place. "Sucks, right?"
 

She shrugs. "He leaves me the Benz when he goes so it isn't that bad."
 

Okay, maybe not.
 

"I'll see you later," I tell her and wander inside.
 

I want to explore the house but I know Tanya's around somewhere and my dad and Justin will be back inside with my suitcases in a few minutes and I don't want them to think I'm a snoop.
 

Best just to head upstairs and pick out a bedroom like he told me.
 

I tiptoe up the iron stairs, not wanting to attract any extra attention, and open the first door I find. Linen closet. The second is a bathroom.
 

Behind door number three is a bedroom with pink walls, pink bedding and pink curtains. Nope.

I open what I'm pretty sure is Justin's bedroom next. It looks lived in: drum set, acoustic guitar, baseball posters on the walls, T-shirts on the floor.
 

Interesting that my brother is apparently a musician.
 

I don't remember that about him.
 

When I open the next door, I know instantly that I've found my bedroom. I don't need to see the others. The walls are painted beige to match the simple white, fluffy-looking comforter with tan accent pillows. The queen-sized bed takes up most of the room, but that isn't what draws me to the space.
 

There's a low wall a few feet away from the end of the bed and two steps that lead into a sitting area with two cozy-looking chairs. The giant window takes up most of the wall and overlooks not only the pool, but the entire Phoenix valley. There's even a small balcony.
 

I'm in love. It's perfect.
 

"Ahem."
 

I spin around and see Dad and Justin standing in the doorway, each with two suitcases in hand. My purse is slung over Justin's shoulder.

"Thanks," I say. "You can put them down anywhere."
 

"Good choice on the room," Dad tells me. "It's our guests' favorite."
 

"Oh!" My cheeks flush and I try not to look disappointed. "I can take a different one, then."

"Nonsense. This is your house now," he says, and I notice he doesn't make the mistake of calling it my home a second time. "Settle in. We'll have dinner at seven."
 

I nod and he smiles and walks out. Justin lingers for a second.
 

"Yeah?" I ask him.
 

He shrugs and shakes his head. "Nothing," he says. "Just nice to have you around again, Holls."

His old nickname for me sends a wave of nausea pumping through my veins. "Your girlfriend's waiting by the pool."
 

He studies me for a second, then nods. "She isn't my girlfriend, but yeah, you're probably right. I should get back out there. Let me know if you need anything."
 

"Close the door behind you."
 

When the lock clicks firmly into place, I let out a sigh and sink down onto the plush bed that isn't mine and feel tears spring to my eyes.
 

I don't even have my bed anymore. I just have these four suitcases, my guitar, my backpack and my purse. The bed I've slept in for the last ten years belongs to someone else in eastern Pennsylvania now, sold alongside everything else from our life because my mom isn't going to need the furniture -- or the house I grew up in after the move -- where she's going with her new husband in Europe.
 

I wipe frantically at my eyes and dig around in my suitcase for dry clothes to change into.
 

No crying. I'm here now.
 

I can't do much about it.

And I've got to figure out a way to make it work.
 

CHAPTER TWO

I wake up curled in a small ball on the bed an hour later and almost don't remember where I am or why I'm here, but it comes back to me with a bang like it always does. I glance at the bedside alarm clock. 6:15. That only leaves me with forty-five minutes to get ready for whatever Dad has planned for dinner.

I crack open my door and peek my head out into the hall. Empty. I creep down to Justin's room and tap lightly on his door.

A second later, he opens it and sticks only his head out.

"Oh, it's you," he says, opening the door a little wider.
 

"Who'd you think it was?"
 

"Dad. Or Tanya. I'm not used to having you around. What's up?"
 

"What's dinner tonight? I mean, do I have to dress up?"
 

He laughs. "We're going out, yeah."
 

"What are you wearing?"
 

"Why, you wanna borrow something from my closet?"
 

I roll my eyes. Maybe Justin hasn't changed so much after all.

"Khakis," he says after a second. "And a button down. No tie or anything. Don't get crazy."
 

I smile. "Thanks."
 

He nods and I turn and head back down the hall to root through my suitcase for something suitable. I decide on a flowery sundress, white sweater and flat brown sandals. Nice enough to match Justin's clothes but not so elaborate that I look like I'm trying too hard.

Dad, Tanya and Justin are already waiting in the foyer by the time I reach the stairs, and I instantly feel bad that I'm holding them up.
 

I'm already an intruder in their house. I don't want to make it worse.

I follow them down another hallway that I haven't taken yet and we come out in a giant five-car garage. Only one of the stalls is empty; the rest house a Jaguar, a BMW, a Range Rover and a Mercedes.

Oh.

We get in the Range Rover and I immediately long for the comfort of my Honda. There's nothing in here -- it may as well be the model unit on a dealer's showroom floor. It doesn't look lived in. No character.
 

I hate it.

We ride to the restaurant in loud silence as I take in everything about my new town that isn't really new. I used to live here (not in such a fancy house, of course) but it doesn't feel familiar to me. Pennsylvania is what I know even if Arizona was my first home.
 

Dad doesn't bother parking the Range Rover; he drives straight up to the valet service, which is something I can't ever remember taking advantage of in Pennsylvania. It always seemed silly to me, and it still does as we pile out of the car and he hands his keys to the pimpled teenage guy who looks like he can't wait to get his hands on a car like this.
 

Risky business, if you ask me, but then again, I'm not the one with the money to throw at a full garage of fancy cars.
 

We march into the restaurant, every employee seemingly falling over themselves to make sure we don't touch the doors ourselves and we're shown immediately to our table, without so much as a word spoken by any of us.
 

A far cry from the familiar restaurants back in Pennsylvania where they know me by name and aren't afraid to ask about the last bit of drama they remember hearing about from my last trip in for a burger and curly fries.

I have a feeling I'm not going to be able to find fries like those on the menu tonight.

"What do you think, Holly?" Dad asks once we've been seated and the waiter has placed our napkins on our laps for us. "Nice, isn't it?"
 

I glance around the restaurant. It isn't very full, but each table has a long white linen tablecloth with one flickering candle on the center. The dim lights and low-hanging chandeliers suggest a place more suited for romance than a family dinner, but Dad is right. It's nice.

It's just not really my thing.
 

"It's very pretty," I say diplomatically.
 

Dad smiles, but I don't miss the look on Tanya's face even if she doesn't glance my way. She knows better than Dad does.
 

"Please, order whatever you like," he says, gesturing to the thick leather menu on the table in front of me. "The steak is always outstanding here."
 

I flip open the menu. I love steak, and had already been thinking about getting it, but now that he's suggested it, it's lost its appeal. Maybe it's childish, but I just can't stand the idea that he might think I'm giving in to him, that this is some kind of peace offering on my part.
 

I don't know how he'd get all that from a steak, but it's a chance I'm not willing to take.
 

I force my eyes away from the different cuts of meat and over to the pasta section. When Justin and I were kids, our parents hated it when we ordered spaghetti and meatballs at restaurants because it was one of the few things they knew how to cook for us at home, but we did it all the time anyway.
 

I don't see it listed on the fancy menu in front of me, but I know what I'm ordering, anyway.
 

I close the menu and wait for the rest of the table to figure out what they want. When the waiter appears, Justin asks for lobster, Dad a steak and Tanya a salad.
 

He turns his attention to me. "For you, miss?"
 

I smile sweetly at him. He can't be much older than twenty, so I hope this works. "I have a bit of a favor to ask," I say. "I'm hoping you could help me out with something that isn't on the menu. I just really have a craving for spaghetti and meatballs. Can you do that?"