Enchantment (6 page)

“Bookstore sounds good.”

“And I need to drop a form off at registration, which'll be nuts. You can hang at the Student Union while I do that.”

Mad's brain was off in planning mode. Holly merely nodded, knowing no more was required. They finished eating and cleaned up, then Mad offered to show her the lake behind the apartment.

“I didn't know you had a lake!”

“It's not ours, actually. Technically it's part of the neighborhood to the west, but it's a real lake so they have to allow public access.”

“Real as opposed to man-made.”

“Right. Want to see?”

“Sure.”

Mad led her out to the patio and through a gate. The sun had set, and the sky glowed deep blue. A swath of grass sloped down to a running path, and beyond it was more grass going down to the lake.

It was fairly large, to Holly's surprise. The houses to the west looked expensive, with docks and boathouses. The water glimmered in the light of antiquey-looking lamp posts spaced along the path that followed the shore.

They walked down to the lake and watched a handful of geese playing hide and seek in some rushes. Holly stepped right to the edge of the water and looked into it. Mossy stuff growing in there. She wondered if there were fish.

Or other things. Did lakes have guardians? Did rivers? Oceans?

She peered intently, wishing it wasn't so dark. Were those eyes, looking back at her?

“If you're thinking about a swim, I'd advise against it.”

Holly stepped back. “I wasn't.”

Mad gazed at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “We'll come back in the daylight. Bring some bread for the ducks.”

She turned and headed uphill toward the townhouse. Holly followed, thinking she might come back alone for an early walk.

Music reached them before they got to the patio; jazzy, with a male singer Holly recognized but couldn't name. Mad unlatched the gate and held it open for her.

“Pam's home. Come on, I'll introduce you.”

Laughter came from the kitchen, where a cushy blonde was cutting up a lime while a guy with short, black hair and a U2 shirt was making a pitcher of something that involved alcohol. Holly could smell the fumes from the doorway.

“Hi, Pam,” said Mad. “This is my sister, Holly. Holly this is Pam Sheevers, and this is Rick.”

Pam put down the knife and smiled as she wiped her hands on a towel. “Hi, Holly. Nice to meet you.”

“Want a margarita?” asked Rick.

“She's underage,” said Mad. “Come on, Holly. Grab your laptop and I'll give you that network key.”

“You're underage, too,” Holly whispered as Mad dragged her out to the living room.

“Pam's a junior,” Mad answered in a low voice. “I have a drink with them now and then, just to be social. Don't tell the folks, OK?”

Holly shrugged. “None of my business.”

Mad would be twenty-one in a few months, anyway. And Holly had tried a few drinks herself, at parties—mostly just beer or wine. She didn't really get what the attraction was.

They went upstairs to Mad's room, which looked different from her room at home. In high school she'd been on the drill team and had sports stuff all over her bedroom. This room had less personality, more functionality. The blinds on the window were closed. The room overlooked the parking lot, so no loss. The TV that Mom and Dad had given Mad as a going-away present sat on top of a milk crate at the foot of the bed.

Holly sat on the bed and took out her laptop while Mad looked up the key on her own computer. While she waited, she noted the only decoration in the room: an art print on the wall opposite the bed, Monet's Water Lilies.

“So, you like this better than the dorm?”

“Way better. Dorms are crazy noisy, at least the one I was in was. Parties all the time. You'd hate living in one. Here it is—ready?”

Holly had already booted her computer and sniffed out the network. She typed in the key Madison read to her and immediately checked her email.

“Mail from Dad.”

“Yeah, he cc'd me. I should have checked when we got in.”

“I'll answer it.”

She tried to think of cheerful things to talk about; how nice the apartment was, the pretty patio flowers, the lake. She mentioned meeting Pam, but left out the boyfriend and the margaritas.

When she had caught up on her email and other online stuff, Holly packed up her computer and went downstairs. Pam and Rick were in the living room with frosty glasses, watching TV. The half-full pitcher sat on the table. Holly set her laptop down by the end of the sofa and got out her book, then headed for the patio.

There was a porch light, fortunately. She turned it on and settled down in one of the lawn chairs to read. Amanda Cope's version of Las Palomas filled her mind, making her feel at home.

When the secret project came in, Amanda got a job as a secretary for one of the scientists. The pay was better, and the school had closed—bought out by the government. The whole place was being turned upside down. Military personnel came in and started building housing east of the school. Holly paused to think about those apartment buildings. They were still standing, old now.

Amanda didn't talk much about the project itself, but instead described the people she worked with and the changes that developed as Las Palomas was created mostly from scratch, built around the core of the boys' school. Absorbed in the gossipy details she'd never known before, Holly kept reading until the patio door slid open and Madison stepped out.

“Aren't you freezing?”

“Um … now that you mention it, it is starting to get nippy out here.”

Mad put her hands on her hips. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to read.” Holly closed her book and stood up. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten. Rick's gone home. Carla and Sheila are here, if you want to meet them.”

“Sure.”

Wondering why Madison was annoyed with her, Holly followed her inside. It couldn't be that she was reading, could it? Mad knew she read all the time.

She smiled as Madison introduced her to Sheila, a plump girl with frizzy dark hair and glasses, and Carla who had light brown hair cropped short and the lean body of an athlete. Both seemed nice. Holly hid her awkwardness with a question.

“Which of you guys picked the posters?”

“Oh, all the theater ones are mine,” said Sheila, “and the skiing and hiking ones are Carla's, and the music ones are Pam's.” Her voice was a bit on the loud side, but cheerful. She reminded Holly a little of a girl in her class.

“And who planted all the flowers out there?” Holly gestured to the patio. “They're beautiful.”

“That's Pam,” Mad said, picking up the empty margarita pitcher and carrying it to the kitchen.

Pam, who was on the couch with her feet curled under her, smiled. “Glad you like them. I have to have flowers around.”

“I hope you don't mind that I picked a few.” Holly gestured to the shot glass of pansies.

“I saw that. It's fine. I usually keep some in my room, too.”

The TV was still on. Holly put away her book and watched the evening news with Mad's roommates while Mad clattered around in the kitchen. At the commercial break Holly went in to see if she could help.

“No thanks,” Mad said, putting glasses in the dishwasher. “It's under control.”

“I could cook dinner tomorrow night, if we go shopping. As a thank-you to everyone for letting me stay a couple days.”

Mad shrugged. “Carla usually eats at work, and Pam just has a yogurt or some salad most of the time.”

Holly was already planning. Spaghetti with garlic bread, and a big salad for Pam. Extra sauce so Carla could have some later if she wanted; it was easy enough to boil pasta. Holly opened a cupboard by the stove, hoping to see what spices they had on hand.

“Looking for something?”

Mad's voice was sharp enough that Holly shut the cupboard door with a snap. “Sorry. Just checking if you had basil.”

Mad turned to face her and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. Holly gritted her teeth while Mad stared at her for a long moment.

“It's nice of you to offer, but it really isn't necessary to cook for us. We usually fend for ourselves.”

“Hang on,” said a voice from the doorway. “How good a cook is she?”

Holly looked up at Sheila, who was lounging against the door frame. She flashed her a shy smile.

“I like to cook.”

“She's OK,” Mad said. “But I figured it might be hard to get everyone together at once.”

“For a home-cooked meal? I think we can manage.” Sheila smiled at Holly. “None of us are great cooks. We should have made that a requirement the last time we advertised for a roommate.”

“Hey!”

Mad whip-snapped a kitchen towel in Sheila's direction. Sheila ducked behind the wall, then leaned in to stick out her tongue. Holly grinned in spite of herself.

“Guys!” Sheila called to the others in the living room. “Holly's going to cook us a feast tomorrow night!”

“I don't know about 'feast',” Holly said, but Pam's whoop of approval drowned her out.

She looked up apprehensively at Madison. “I won't if you'd rather I didn't.”

Mad looked annoyed, but she shrugged and went back to loading the dishwasher. “Who am I to rock the boat?”

Figuring she'd dodged a bullet, Holly slipped out and joined Sheila on the couch for the rest of the news. When the weather was over, Pam stood up, yawned, and waved a goodnight as she headed for the stairs. Carla stayed through the sports, then got a glass of water from the kitchen and went down the hall toward what must be the master bedroom.

Holly realized she'd been hearing the hum of the dishwasher for a while. She hadn't seen Mad go upstairs, but when she went in the kitchen it was empty. She got herself a glass of water, then noticed through the glass panel in the front door that the porch light was on.

She walked up to it and peered through the beveled glass. Mad was out there, leaning against the house and staring out at the night. Holly opened the door and Madison jumped, looking at her like a startled deer. In her hand was a lit cigarette.

“You don't smoke!” Holly blurted, then realized how stupid it sounded.

“Not at home.” Madison took a puff, then dropped the cig and smushed it out with her shoe. “Only once in a while here, and not in the house. The others don't, except for Pam but she only smokes grass.”

Holly gaped at her sister, still unable to believe it. Mad's mouth twisted into a smile.

“I've been smoking since tenth grade. Didn't know that, did you?”

Tenth grade? That was three years ago!

Holly shook her head. She felt like an idiot. A sad idiot.

“There's all kinds of things you might learn if you took your nose out of a book once in a while.”

Madison bent down to pick up the crushed cigarette and brushed past Holly on her way into the townhouse, leaving a smudge of tobacco on the sidewalk. Holly stared at it, wondering if Mad had changed that much, or if she had never really known her.

Mad didn't mention the cigarette the next day. She put up a wall of cheerfulness that set Holly at a distance, and kept them moving so there wasn't much opportunity to chat. Errands, both off and on campus, took up the whole morning. For lunch Madison chose the Student Union cafeteria, which was OK but not fabulous.

“This place is great if you're in a hurry, or out of other choices,” Mad said.

Holly glanced at some of the other choices—kiosks out in the hallway of the building that offered more interesting food than her grilled cheese sandwich and potato chips. She ate the pickle garnish and picked at the sandwich. She wasn't really hungry. Part of her wanted to plead with Madison to quit smoking, another part wanted to avoid the whole issue and couldn't wait to get away.

In the afternoon they visited the science department. Madison took her to the office of one of the professors, a geologist. He was younger than Holly had visualized but both uninterested and uninteresting. After five minutes of pretty meaningless chat, they left.

“So, want to see the classrooms?” Mad asked. “I think we can get a peek at a lab.”

The chemistry lab they looked at was empty; all the instruments were put away, so it was just a bunch of long, high tables. Mad yakked about a class she had taken there the previous year. Holly listened, uninspired.

She cheered up when they hit the grocery store on the way home. While Mad picked up raisin bran and single-serving bowls of soup, Holly filled a basket in the produce department. Cooking made her happy. Even though Mad pretended to be grumpy about it, Holly knew that the meal she was fixing was one of Mad's favorites.

Or was it? Maybe Mad's tastes had changed.

Doubt assailed her, but she ignored it as she picked out baguettes for garlic bread. At least two of Madison's roommates were looking forward to this dinner. If Mad turned up her nose at it, that was Mad's problem.

Holly paid for the groceries with some of the money Dad had given her, and remembered that he wanted her to buy Mom a gift. As they drove back to the townhouse, she brought this up.

“Pearl Street Mall,” Madison said. “We'll go tomorrow. You'll like it.”

The determined cheerfulness was giving way to impatience. Holly wondered if it was because Mad wanted a cigarette. She thought back over the last few days—over all of Madison's visits home in the last year—and saw Mad's behavior in a new light.

Her sister had become edgy, impatient. Holly had assumed it was because she was pursuing a line of study that she didn't really love, but maybe that wasn't true. Maybe it was just addiction.

She didn't like thinking about that, and she sure wasn't going to bring up the subject. Mad's choices were none of her business. She was an adult, and Holly was still a high school kid.