Chapter 1
OPHELIA
Past
New Neighbors
Iwatch out the window as the second moving truck pulls out of the driveway of the house next door.
The driver takes the turn a little wide, and the front tire jumps the curb before he’s out of our private little cul-de-sac.
The house sold a few months ago, and I’ve been keeping an eye on all the construction.
I even snuck over a few times to have a look around, but my dad doesn’t know about that.
I’ll have to pretend I’m seeing everything for the first time when we go over to meet our new neighbors later today.
Through my binoculars, a birthday gift from Dad, I zoom in on the movers carrying box after box into the house.
I even get to look inside some of the rooms as a legion of workers unpack all the nice, new things.
Downstairs is easier to see into since the windows are floor to ceiling.
Upstairs, I can almost see into one of the bedrooms.
Movement along the path from the swimming pool to the detached and much smaller cottage catches my eye, and I turn to see two blurry figures. I adjust the lens and focus on the pair.
One is a woman with long dark hair walking a few steps ahead of a boy who is carrying two boxes so big, he can barely see over top of them.
The woman laughs when the boy stops, puts the boxes down, and blows his hair out of his eyes.
His hair is as black as hers and cut close to his head except for the top, which is long enough that it falls into his eyes.
I’ve never seen eyes that color before. They’re the most beautiful turquoise, bright, like the sparkling water of the ocean at my favorite beach in Cancun. With his tanned face and dark hair, they’re striking.
He's not Ethan, the son of the family that’s moving in. Ethan is fourteen, and this boy looks much older.
He bends down to pick up the boxes again but then stops, straightens, and looks straight at my window.
I gasp. He can’t see me, can he? We’re too far apart.
Even so, I swear those eyes are staring right at me.
Maybe it’s the sun, or maybe I moved and it glinted off the binoculars?
I freeze, not sure what to do. Before I can decide if I should duck down out of sight, he shifts his gaze to the boxes, lifts them, and continues toward the small cottage.
The sound of a car door closing has me swinging the binoculars back to the street. A black car parks at the curb. The windows are tinted so dark I can’t see in.
The driver climbs out and opens the door at the back. A man steps out. He glances at the house, then turns to extend his hand to help a woman out. They’re dressed like they’re going to work or a party or something. Not for moving.
I watch the couple. They look up at the grand house set on a hill, which used to look like ours, but is so much bigger now and prettier with everything being so new. They smile but not to each other. Just at the house.
When the other door at the back opens, I anxiously zoom in to see Ethan, the boy who will be my neighbor.
He’s two years older than me. When Dad told me who was moving in, I secretly wished he were a girl because we’d probably become best friends then, but he’s not.
Still, since his is the only other house for miles, it makes him the only kid around.
The parents of my few friends from school don’t like to drive their kids out this far and Dad doesn’t like me going to anyone’s house unless he’s met them.
He’s pretty weird about it. But the neighbors built a swimming pool, so Ethan will have to do.
And who knows? Maybe we’ll be best friends after all. Dad says to give him a chance, that not all boys are annoying. I’m not sure about that, but the swimming pool with its glistening water does make me want to try. It’s been a really hot summer.
“Phee?” Dad knocks once on my door then opens it.
I jump, turning from the window. I want to hide the binoculars behind my back because we have discussed what he calls me being nosy and what I call curiosity.
My teachers tell me curiosity is a really good thing to have.
I’d remind him of that, but I am kind of spying and I’m too late to hide them because they’re hanging from my neck.
He gives me a look but smiles, which means I’m not really in trouble. “What did I tell you about spying?”
“I’m not. I was just watching the movers.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“Fine.” I slip the binoculars off and drop to a seat in the bay window. It’s my favorite spot for reading and now, neighbor watching.
“Ready to meet the Foxes?”
I smile wide, jumping to my feet. “Yep! I’ll grab the welcome cookies.” I baked them with Tonia, our cook and housekeeper and the best second mom anyone can have. Most of my friends had nannies forever, but I have always had Tonia. I hurry to the door, and Dad scoots to the side.
“You’re wearing your bathing suit?” he asks as I run down the stairs of our house.
There are six bedrooms upstairs. One for my dad and one for me. Tonia lives with us, so she has the third, and the other three are just empty all the time. We never have visitors.
My father is an only child, like me, and both his and my mom’s parents are gone. I never got to meet any of them, and it upsets Dad when I ask about them, so I try not to.
We could move to a smaller house. We don’t need all the space. But Dad told me once how much my mom loved it. She decorated it herself.
I think he still misses her. I know he does, in fact. I don’t remember her, so I don’t. It’s weird, maybe, to not miss your mom, but I never knew her.
“Just in case they invite us to swim,” I say. “It’s a hot day.”
“Phee. They’ll be busy moving in. You’ll need to give them their privacy until they’re settled. We’re just going to say hello. I’ll introduce you, then we’ll be on our way.”
Dad knows the Foxes. He is in talks about a business deal with Sullivan Fox, the dad, and he met Mrs. Fox at a business dinner.
“I know, I know,” I say, charging toward the kitchen, where Tonia holds out the cookies she put in a pretty tin box for me. “Did you save me some?” I ask. I only got to nibble on one when they came out of the oven, and it burnt my tongue.
“Of course, Phee.” She shows me a small plate she set aside.
“Thanks!”
Dad and I head out the front door, across the porch and down the long stairs that lead to the sidewalk. There’s no fence between our properties, and each is set on a large parcel of land so even though we’re neighbors, our houses are not that close—which is why it helps to have the binoculars.
Gardeners and movers are all over the place as we make our way up the stairs toward the front doors of the Fox’s new house.
They’ve redesigned everything. Our houses used to match almost exactly, but now where the stairs lead us to a cozy front porch with a swing and big, comfy furniture, theirs leads to a set of grand double doors in dark wood.
It’s pretty, and inside is really nice, but I like ours better. It feels warmer.
Dad rings the bell just as two women open the door, carrying a heavy sculpture out. The thing looks like it weighs more than both of them together.
“Let me help you with that,” Dad says without missing a beat, and he takes it from them.
The women seem surprised but are quick to guide him to where to place it. In the meantime, I peer into the house. There must be a dozen people unpacking things downstairs alone, and more are coming and going upstairs.
I walk inside, turn in a circle, and look up at the sparkling chandelier hanging two stories up. Light glints off each crystal teardrop, shining onto the ceiling and the jade green walls.
The house looks very different than it did the last time I was here.
It’s finished now, the marble floors so polished they almost reflect us back, and every surface is gleaming.
Our house has the original hardwood floors and although it’s clean, nothing gleams quite like it does here.
This house also looks to be twice the size of ours now.
A woman barks an order and I jump, turning in the direction of the shout. Dad walks in and takes me by the shoulders, scooting me out of the way of two men hauling something heavy between them.
“Watch out, sweetheart,” he says and leads me toward the living room, where sunlight pours in from the wide-open sliding glass doors. From here I can see the pool. It is almost blindingly bright.
“Horatio,” a man’s voice booms.
I turn to find Mr. Fox—I can guess it’s him because he’s the man who stepped out of the back of the limousine—coming around the corner. He’s still wearing his suit despite this heat but he’s smiling wide, his teeth so white they’re almost as blinding as the pool. He holds out his hand to Dad.
“Sorry for the mess and the noise,” he says, gesturing around. “Moving is always a hassle, isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry about it, Sly,” Dad says. Sly is Mr. Fox’s nickname. He and my dad shake hands over my head. “Just wanted to drop by and say hello, welcome you. This is my daughter, Ophelia. Ophelia, this is Mr. Sullivan Fox.”
“Phee,” I say, holding out my hand to shake. No one calls me Ophelia.
“Phee, what a pleasure to meet you. Your father has told me all about you.” Mr. Fox extends his hand to shake my hand and I notice the gold ring with a fox head on his little finger. I’ve never seen a man wear one before and I can’t help looking at the red eyes. It’s kind of creepy.
Dad clears his throat because I’m taking too long. I put my hand in his, not liking the ring with the rubies for eyes.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” I say. His eyes, I notice, are the exact same color as the boy I saw earlier. “Your house is beautiful.”
“Why thank you. What a sweet young lady, Horatio.”