Chapter Eight Ben
At noon the Monday after the wedding, I pull up in front of one of the strangest properties I’ve ever seen. The white house with yellow shutters is normal enough, I suppose, if you ignore the fact that this particular shade of yellow looks like it came directly from a children’s box of crayons.
It’s the neon purple fence covered in hundreds of unidentifiable objects that really draws my attention.
I get out of the car and lean against the driver’s side door while I wait, trying to figure out what’s going on with this fence. There are beads made of both plastic and wood in every color of the rainbow. Random twigs and bunches of dried plants are tied up with twine and strips of leather. Rocks of all shapes, sizes, and colors rest in between the pickets or dangle from little silver wires.
My brow furrows as something clicks. I remember what Olenka said to me at the beach when I found those stones in my pocket.
I heard there’s a village witch…
I can’t believe I didn’t think of it when I came across the strange old woman at the bottom of the cliffs.
Not that I believe in witches. Or magic. Or wise women with the gift of prophecy. I appreciate the arts, but not to that extreme.
Still, there’s something undeniably mystical about this house. Does Ruby actually live here? Or is this her idea of a prank? Is someone going to leap out of the bushes and promise me three wishes in exchange for my firstborn?
Before I can question any further, the door of the screened porch groans open, and a familiar head of thick blonde hair emerges into the dull gray light of the day.
Ruby takes one look at me and frowns, but starts dragging her suitcase toward the car without hesitation. She must have been desperate indeed to agree to this. Then again, I’m not surprised. The second Olenka texted me and said that Ruby needed to get back to the city as soon as possible, I jumped at the chance. Maybe a few hours alone with her in a car, where she can’t walk away or physically fight me, might be exactly what I need to convince her that I’m not the useless idiot she seems to think I am.
Which is apparently very important to me.
Behind Ruby, I notice a willowy woman with long silver hair standing just beyond the coverage of the screens. Does Ruby live here? She said she was from Mermaid Shores, but she didn’t mention anything about growing up with a spooky mystical being.
I meet Ruby halfway, reaching for the handle of the suitcase so that I can carry it the rest of the way to the car. She shoots me a glare, but lets me do the chivalrous thing.
“Seriously?” she mutters as she approaches the car. “You drive a Porsche?”
I haul the suitcase into the trunk. It seems like we’re starting with the verbal combat right away.
“Should I not?” I reply. “Anyway, I don’t think you can really judge the nature of your chariot at the moment, Ruby, considering I’m your only ticket out of this place.”
She rolls her eyes and begrudgingly opens the passenger side door. It’s hard not to smile to myself as I shut the trunk and come around to open my door. Doesn’t she know how cute she looks when she pouts?
Anyway, it’s a Porsche Cayenne, the totally respectable SUV model. It’s not like I’m zipping around in a gaudy little sports car.
“Why are you even still here?” Ruby asks. She’s sitting ramrod straight in the passenger seat, hands curled into fists like she’s ready to fight her way out of here.
I haven’t even started the engine yet.
I shrug. “Should I not be?”
“The wedding was two days ago.”
“And I’m not allowed to stick around in a charming beach town for a little while longer?”
“I thought you didn’t like small towns.”
I snort and finally start the engine. A prickling sensation on the back of my neck tells me that the silver-haired woman is still watching us, but I pretend not to notice.
“You caught me,” I tell her. “It’s just that I slept in late the morning after the wedding, didn’t realize most people were leaving, and by the time I noticed that I was basically the only one left in town, the storm had started.”
“Oh.”
“But don’t worry. The highway looks like it’s been cleared, and even though there’s another storm front coming through tonight, I think we’ll make it back to the city before it hits.”
“Good.”
And that’s that.
I back out of the driveway carefully. For some reason, it’s important to me that Ruby thinks I’m a responsible driver. I want her to know that I’m a good person. Her opinion shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. Maybe it’s because I’m used to people liking me and have hardly ever struggled to win favor, unless it’s with my father. Maybe it’s just that she’s beautiful, feisty, and insanely talented… and I like it. I like her.
I shouldn’t be attracted to a woman who hates my guts, but alas. Here we are.
We run into a few difficulties getting out of town. One of the residential streets has been blocked off by a massive fallen tree, so we take a detour that brings us onto narrow coastal roads lined with million-dollar mansions. Ruby has to give me verbal instructions on how to navigate toward the highway, with each word clipped and quiet as if it physically pains her to speak to me.
As soon as we hit the main road that will take us off the Cape, Ruby falls quiet. The highway itself is a veritable disaster zone. We pass a few trucks with flashing yellow lights dutifully trying to pick everything up, but I still have to drive slower than the speed limit to avoid branches and other debris.
Ruby is silent as I navigate the roads. When I sneak a few glances at her, I see that she’s glaring out of the passenger side window, with most of her face angled away from me. The sky is gray and the weather is bleak, and yet I swear her hair is gleaming like sunshine despite it.
I continue driving. I don’t really need to get back to New York with any urgency. In spite of my father’s call the other day, the board doesn’t really need me present until next week.
I want to talk to her. I want her to want to talk to me. I want to discuss ballet and the company and pick her brain about what she thinks we can do to make it the best performance season in years. I want to know what her favorite ballets to dance are and how long she’s been training for and… wow, I just want to know everything about her. She fascinates me.
Instead, I keep my mouth shut.
At last, we’re able to merge from Route 6 onto I-495. I’ve been to Boston a few times before, and Providence once, but I’m generally unfamiliar with the area this far north. Still, it’s easy enough to navigate… which, unfortunately, leaves me a lot of mental space to continue fretting about Ruby.
I should say something. I should make pleasant conversation.
“Are you hungry?” I ask her.
She doesn’t even turn her head to answer me. “No.”
“Would you like to stop for coffee? That sign said there’s a Dunkin’—”
“No. I’m fine.”
Erik’s annoying voice echoes in the back of my mind. Another swing and a miss.
I try again. “Would you like to drive?”
That gets her to throw me a glance. “What?”
“You can drive if you’d like. You have your license, don’t you?”
“Of course I have my license.”
“So? Do you want to drive?”
“You’d let me drive your Porsche?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
“Aren’t you worried I might crash it or something?”
I smirk at her. “Have you ever crashed a car before?”
“No.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
Ruby snorts humorlessly. “Right. Because if I totaled your Porsche, you could just buy a new one.”
“I mean, I could, but it would be a huge inconvenience. I don’t have infinite Porsche funds.”
“Don’t you? You seem to have infinite funds for other things.”
Like controlling the NYC Ballet,she doesn’t say, but I hear, nonetheless.
“So, you don’t want to drive?”
“No, I don’t want to drive!” she snaps.
It’s an effort to keep the smile off my face. At least I got her talking.
Suddenly, Ruby sits up even straighter and leans toward the windshield. “You were supposed to merge back there. On to I-195. That will take us south. We’re not supposed to keep going north.”
“Yes, I understand that New York City is generally south of Cape Cod, Ruby. Thank you for that geography lesson. However, the news media and the GPS have both advised me that taking the coastal route would be unwise, given the amount of flooding that the storm caused. Especially since there’s a second storm coming this evening.”
“But this route will take longer.”
“And getting caught in a flood will take even longer than that.”
Ruby scoffs quietly, but argues no further. We head further inland, where the weather is still gray and misty, yet the roads are mostly clear from damage.
“Do you want me to turn on the radio?” I ask after another tense five minutes of silence passes.
“The radio?”
“Or Spotify, I guess. Whatever.”
“I’m fine. I prefer the quiet.”
Her words are pointed—the hidden message being that she wishes I would shut up.
“Alright,” I mutter.
She really is a tough nut to crack. It’s so tempting to resign myself to the belief that she’s this unpleasant with everyone, but I know that’s not true. When I observed her with Eva and the bridesmaids, she was reserved, but sweet and smiling the entire time. She laughs so easily with others and is more than willing to talk if someone else pulls her into a conversation.
Apparently, I am the one exception to her friendliness. I can’t help feeling like it’s way more than the Giselle thing. Sure, I feel pretty guilty about the fact that I messed up a big opportunity for her, but I had absolutely no idea that I was doing it at the time. How was I supposed to know? I was just trying to do the right thing for the company.
Plus, I apologized. It’s not like I told her that I don’t care about the missed opportunity, or that I’d make sure to do it to her again. I thought I was pretty clear about the fact that I knew I’d made a mistake.
It’s something else. It has to be. She hates me for another reason.
Maybe she hates me because of who I am. Maybe it’s as simple as that. She’s a small-town girl who has had to work herself to the bone to get into one of the best ballet companies in the world. I’m the son of a billionaire arts philanthropist who has worked very little in his life. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I’m trying to take my responsibilities seriously. I would understand if Ruby hated me on principle.
That doesn’t mean I’m willing to accept it, though.
Because I really can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something.
While I descend into my thought spiral, Ruby fiddles with the seat controls. She moves the passenger seat back as far as it can go. At first, I think she’s going to take a nap, but then she stretches out her long legs and starts kneading her muscles.
Right. Because a ballerina’s body can’t sit cramped in a car for hours on end. Dancers like Ruby spend their lives pummeling their bodies into shape. It’s a precarious balance between being at the peak of athleticism and pushing their ligaments a little too far.
For twenty torturous minutes, I remain quiet while she stretches. I have to keep reminding myself to keep my eyes on the road instead of admiring her long limbs. She’s wearing plain black leggings and a cotton tee that’s at least three sizes too big for her, but she somehow still looks effortlessly graceful and glamorous.
When she’s done, she readjusts the seat and goes right back to staring out the window.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Ruby…”
I feel her eyes on me, but I keep mine focused on the road ahead.
“What?” she mutters. “Is there an issue with the route?”
“No, it’s just… I can’t help thinking that your very obvious dislike of me is more than just the Giselle thing.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I’ve seen you around other people, Ruby. I seem to be the only one who gets snapped at. I know what I did resulted in a big disappointment for you, but you also know that it wasn’t my intention. I apologized. I don’t really know what else I can do, so I need you to tell me. Because if we spend the next five hours in this tense silence, I might go insane.”
Ruby doesn’t say anything. When I’m finally brave enough to sneak a sideways glance at her, she’s frowning down at her hands in her lap.
I wait, thinking she just needs time to gather her thoughts.
The highway sails by, offering us nothing but endless views of deep green pines and gray asphalt.
“Fine,” she says at last. “It’s not just Giselle.”
I almost want to sigh in relief, but this isn’t exactly a good thing to be right about.
“What is it, then? I’m not too proud to admit that I don’t like being disliked. I want to fix this. Just tell me.”
Ruby heaves a loud sigh. “Seriously? You really don’t remember?”