27. Claire
27
CLAIRE
M y first day flies by. It’s strange that I recognize so many faces already; people stop to greet me, and ask how I’m doing. I only arrived a week ago, but I’m not lost at all.
I don’t know anyone in my classes, but each time, wherever I sit, I find a friendly person happy to make small talk.
This is a good vibe.
I return to the cafe under the library for lunch, but Dez isn’t working today. I don’t see anyone I know, so I opt to catch up on my texts over lunch.
More excuses. Most promises to get in touch later. I do have a meeting with Lisa after school, so it’s not a lie. I’m rather frustrated by how everyone seems to be telling me I’m evil for not getting in touch for four days. We talked Saturday; it’s only Tuesday. Did they expect daily reports? I understand my grandmother is excited about her surgery and wants to talk, but her implication that I’ve somehow failed all familial duty for being out of reach for a few days annoys me.
I can’t say as much about Noah. Frankly, girlfriends do talk to their boyfriends daily, I’m pretty sure. I’m only avoiding it, because, well, I don’t feel like his girlfriend anymore. I don’t want to be.
Maybe I should just rip the Band-Aid off. Tell him. Yes, I’ll be seen as a very bad person for doing it that way, but aren’t I a bad person for keeping it to myself?
In the morning, I had a statistics class which makes my brain explode even though it’s only the first day. After lunch, it’s economics, followed by the class I’ve been looking forward to all day.
I’ve always done well with numbers, so I know I’ll keep up, but I won’t lie: after my next class—art theory, my selfish elective—I am so annoyed I have to be practical about my field of study. It’s just so much better in every way.
“Didn’t I see you in econ?” a girl behind me asks.
I don’t recognize her, but I nod. “Yeah, I had it at one.”
“Thought as much. We don’t see many people in econ and art. You’re going into advertising?”
I blink up at her. “Huh? No. Accounting. This class is just for fun, you know.”
“Cool,” she says, concluding our chat.
But I think about it all the way to the bus station.
Advertising.
Somehow, I never even thought about that as an option. It feels like a real career path, not something like maybe I’ll sell some art prints one day, who knows , which is Noah’s plan with his degree—along with a guaranteed construction job after graduation.
Advertising does include art design.
Shit, is it too late to add a few classes? I’m on my way to meet Lisa, and give her my schedule.
My mind’s still racing when I reach the stop my phone’s GPS told me to take, right at the edge of town, at the bottom of a long hill. I blink several times. I’ve seen it from afar when I was in town Saturday, but I didn’t realize how crazy-large the houses were. I can barely even see some of them at the end of their long driveways.
The ones closest to the bottom of the hill are almost human-size, but as I walk up and up, they only get more grandiose.
The house I’m heading to is gated and guarded. I buzz in, feeling about the size of an ant as I say, “Claire Fairmont to see Lisa?”
The pedestrian door unlocks.
It’s another fifteen minutes’ walk to the front door.
“Claire!” a beaming Octavia greets me, standing before her mother. “Didn’t I tell you she was as pretty as a princess, Mama! Look!”
Lisa’s a beautiful twenty-something in a suit and a severe bun. She grins. “That she is. Lovely meeting you, Claire.” She glances over my shoulder. “Don’t tell me you walked here?”
I blush. “Oh, no, I took the bus. I don’t have a car.”
Lisa grimaces, and my heart sink. Is she going to say I can’t have the job because I don’t have a vehicle? I didn’t even think of that. Would she require me to pick up Octavia?
“Don’t tell Keller I made you walk up the hill, he’ll kill me. Come in, love. You must need a nice, refreshing drink after that trek.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I say.
I was too lost in my mind to think about the walk uphill, focusing on this potential job, and the possibility of career paths I didn’t consider.
Accounting made sense. I discussed it at the end of school with my grandmother, and she gave me all the reasons why it was a sound choice. A secure career, useful, and if Noah started in the construction business, I’d have a guaranteed income, too…
Today, those arguments feel lacking. I like to draw. I’m not awful at it. There are career paths that allow a degree of creativity while still being fairly certain, like marketing.
I walk into a sunny, warm entryway that illustrates why they think that the Vesper House is appropriate for college students. Simply put, this is a manor, not a house. There’s a curving grand staircase for Christ’s sake.
We make our way to the kitchen, and my eyes bulge in my face.
“Dada!” Octavia calls, at the life-size supermodel I’ve only ever seen in pictures before.
So this is Arlo, Keller’s dad. Of course he is. He basically looks like a clone of Keller, only age has made him somehow more relaxed, refined. Or maybe it’s because his eyes aren’t quite as calculating as his son’s, when he bends to pick up the kid.
I have to think about the family dynamic for a while. So, Octavia calls Arlo Dada, but she’s Lisa’s daughter—Keller’s half-sister. Are Arlo and Lisa together? Their interaction give me no indication.
“I’m about to give this poor girl a drink. She walked uphill. Want some iced tea?”
“Sure, thank you, Liz.” His blue eyes move to me. “You must be Claire.” His voice is smooth as chocolate and whiskey.
Welp. Words. How do they work again?
“I must be,” I say, apparently aiming for the stupidest thing I can say.
It makes everyone chuckle. “Call me Arlo.”
I shake his hand.
“Claire, I have unsweetened iced tea for this monster—with lemon slices—and sweetened for the rest of us, orange juice, and water, still or sparkling. Also wine, if you’re not going to judge me for it.”
It feels like a trap. This is a job interview. “I’m a bit of a lightweight. But zero judgement if you want the wine. I’d love some of that lemon iced tea?”
Arlo smiles. “See? I’m not that weird.”
“You absolutely are. She’s humoring you because she wants to impress Keller’s dad,” Lisa sums up.
I blush and start to say, “No, sweet tea’s just way too sweet for me.”
“I like you, Claire,” Arlo attests.
Coming back to the breakfast bar with all our drinks on a platter, Lisa rolls her eyes. “Weirdos, the lot of you. So, Claire. You’ve babysat before?”
I nod. “I can send you references; I did it often in high school.”
“Keller vouched for you, that’s good enough for me. When can you start, and how many hours can you do?”
“Oh—right away? But I’m thinking about adding a class to my schedule if I can. I’m not quite certain about the timing. Sorry.” That’s so unprofessional. “I have the rest of my schedule. I’ll try to make sure the new class is at a time that works for everyone…”
“School comes first,” Lisa firmly states. “At the moment, I’m only working in the mornings. If there are two or three days when you can manage the afternoon, that would be great for me to slowly get back to a full-time position. A transition period is a good idea in any case.”
We pore over the schedule, which currently frees up on Tuesday afternoons at three—today—and at one on Fridays. I have a few free slots in the morning, and if I can manage a marketing class then, it wouldn’t fuck with this job I really want, and need. Especially after Lisa tells me how much she’ll pay per hour.
“Fifty dollars,” I repeat, stunned.
Lisa shrugs. “That’s how much I paid the nannies from the agency we used to use.”
“Will not having a car be a problem?”
Arlo shakes his head. “Octavia has a driver. If you’re going out with her, you will take Florian with you, as he’s a security professional. But you should take one of the cars back to school with you in any case.”
I stare at Keller’s double. Mr. Keller senior. “ What ?”
“We keep a few cars for the staff,” he explains. “One—the blue Audi, I think?—was Octavia’s last live-in nanny’s. It’s insured and all the cars are regularly maintained. Take it.”
Oh. So, insanity is a family trait.
“That’s—”
“You can’t walk here every day, love,” Lisa intervenes. “And, yes, it’s a bit much, but Kellers don’t do half measures. Trust me, they’re not worth arguing with. Besides, if you don’t take one of the cars collecting dusts in the garage, Darius will likely just buy you one once he realizes you’re walking everywhere.”
Arlo snorts. “As he should. It must take you ages to go from the Vesper Tower to campus daily.”
So, he knows I live with his son. And he’s not saying anything against it.
My interview was more of a formality, apparently. I’m given the car, a key to this house, and we agree on a schedule, pending the extra class’s timing.
I’m still completely stunned as I park the almost brand-new car at the back of the Vesper House alongside the half-dozen shiny, expensive vehicles. The Audi is by far the most reasonable of the lot, but it’s also the most expensive car I’ve ever travelled in, let alone driven .
How has everything become so crazy in a few days?
Keller. That’s how.