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"It's fabulous," Eliza agreed. "You'll make a fortune renting it out next summer." She smiled. If anyone deserved a break like this, it was Jeremy. Maybe nice guys really did finish first.
"C'mon." Jeremy took her hand. "Let me give you a tour."
He unlocked the front door and they walked inside. The house still had the stuffy smell of age and neglect, but Eliza could see that it was a grand house indeed. "Look at this kitchen," he said, showing her the front "master" kitchen and then leading her to a second kitchen in the back. "It's called the scullery." He ran a finger over a dusty countertop. "In the early twentieth century, when the house was built, kitchens were only for the help, so they were hidden from the rest of the house." He gestured to the middle of the space. "I'm thinking of opening this up and making a big island so that it feels more modern," he said. "Though I'll of course defer to your taste, since the kitchen is the lady's domain." He turned to her and wrapped her in his arms, a sly grin spreading across his face.
"Like you'll ever get me to cook," Eliza said dryly, leaning her head on his shoulder. Jeremy well knew that when it came to preparing dinner, she was much more likely to shell out for a private chef than to put on an apron.
"There's more I want to show you." He grabbed her hand and took her upstairs. "See, there's a study off the master bedroom
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that can be turned into a nursery." He gestured to a small room with tall windows that really did look like it would fit a crib nicely.
"But why go to all that trouble before you know who's going to live here?" Eliza asked, puzzled. "I mean, what if the people who move in don't have a baby?" She walked over to the window and looked out at the enormous, beautiful yard below, the white gazebo cloaked in the orange glow of the setting sun.
"Well, what about when we have babies?" Jeremy asked innocently, coming up behind her and kissing her neck.
"Babies!" She turned and swatted his arm. "Jer, we're babies."
Jeremy just kept nuzzling her ear as if he hadn't heard her. "Eleven bedrooms," he whispered. "We can have a big family. A whole soccer team!"
"Sure, I'll just pop them all out while I'm cooking away in the back kitchen." Eliza laughed. He was joking, right?
He led her back downstairs and out to the garden. They walked through the overgrown yard, past the willow trees, and to the gazebo she'd seen from upstairs. Looking through it, there was a beautiful view of the ocean in the distance. "And I was thinking . . . this is where we'll have our wedding," Jeremy said softly, pointing to the gazebo. Elizas heart thumped in her chest. Jeremy wasn't just fantasizing about the future. No. He was planning it.
It was so beautiful, and yet. . .
"E., I want you to have this," Jeremy said, slipping a ring on her finger. Her left ring finger.
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Eliza looked down in a daze. It was an enormous, glittering rock. A huge, princess-cut diamond. A princess for a princess-- just like she'd always said she wanted. Eliza had always been very vocal about her bridal preferences, tossing her opinions out in the air the way she did with everything. She had no idea he'd actually been listening.
"Jer ..." She didn't know what to say. She wasn't even really sure what had just happened. Did this mean . . . ?
"I love you," he said, pulling her to him and kissing her under the setting sun.
Eliza kissed him back, and when she opened one eye to look at her hand, her new ring winked at her, almost as if to say, Gotcha!
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www.blogspot/hamptonsaupair1 about me
Hello. Hello. Is this mike working? Ha. Just kidding. I'm new to this Internet thingy. But allow me to introduce myself. I'm M., a nineteen-year-old au pair in the Hamptons. And no, I don't have a webcam. Besides, contrary to popular belief, I don't just hang out in my bikini and neglect the kids all day. It's a lot of work taking care of five overachieving children under the age of thirteen while their mom yells at you for feeding them non-free-range chicken nuggets. (Not that it's happened yet--it's only been a week--but I'm just saying.)
my charges
VIOLET is twelve going on thirty-five. She speaks five languages and can probably balance the federal budget. Her advanced-Mandarin tutor arrives every other day. Otherwise, this summer Violet is busy with art, drama, sculpture, Bikram yoga, experimental dance and movement, etiquette, horseback riding, and violin. Her schedule is busier than that of a CEO of a large financial company. I know, because her mom is one, and she actually has time off. Violet's goal? Early admission to Harvard (Mom was class of '92), a Rhodes Scholarship, and world domination. Violet displays
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all twelve signs of extraordinary ability according to Twelve Signs Your Tween is Gifted. She is well balanced, well rounded, and incredibly mature for her age. Sadly, I have not yet seen her laugh.
LOGAN and JACKSON are seven-year-old twin child geniuses. Logan has composed a piano solo in the style of Chopin and beat the former Soviet chess champ when he was five years old. Jackson wrote a one-act play that was produced by a New York theater company last year. (Title: A Car Seat Named Desire.) They are obsessed with CNN and ending global warming and are full-fledged members of the Libertarian party. Logan asked me with total sincerity what I was doing to lower my carbon monoxide emissions. Told him I myself don't even own a car anymore--I sold my Camry to pay for my first year at Columbia. These days I drive their mom's Lexus hybrid. Does that count?
WYATT is five and has proven the theory of relativity. Joke! Wyatt has eaten a sandwich. As far as I can tell, he is a normal five-year-old with five-year-old likes and dislikes: Tonka trucks, Legos, PlayStation 3, SpongeBob. His mother is convinced there must be something wrong with him.
