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summer, but Mara had lived long enough to realize that sometimes, the Rolling Stones were right on the money--you can't always get what you want.
He gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You're the best. I'll call you from the hostel. Love you." With that, he turned and raced off to the gate.
Mara stared at his retreating back, still clutching her expired passport. A few minutes ago, she'd been ready to board a plane to Europe, but now her perfect summer--not to mention her perfect boyfriend--was vanishing right before her eyes.
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AU PAIR MEANS "EXTRA SET OF HANDS" IN FRENCH. SO WHY NOT HAVE TWO?
"AND THIS"-ELIZA POSED DRAMATICALLY IN THE SHOP
window--"is where the cotton candy machine is going."
"The cotton candy machine?" Jeremy chuckled, shaking his head.
"It's edible pink!" Eliza squealed. She ducked her head so she wouldn't hit the ceiling and climbed off the ledge in front of the shop window, making sure not to topple over on her four-inch Yves Saint Laurent platforms. "Isn't that such a great idea? It's going to be like a carnival of pink in here!"
Jeremy smiled. "Except for the clothes, of course." He turned to marvel at the racks of clothing neatly lined up by the wall, still wrapped in dry-cleaning plastic.
"Of course." Eliza flicked her wrist in mock-diva fashion. "I mean, please, no one actually wears pink. It's cute, but strictly for babies." Eliza's summer collection was completely monochromatic--just as everything in her fall collection had been black, for summer everything in the store would be white: white
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bikinis, white sundresses, white capri pants, white jeans, white caftans, the perfect white button-down shirts. It was a perfectly Hamptons-pleasing collection. Eliza knew lots of girls who never wore any other hue for all three months--in fact, she was one of them. With the all-pink walls, the handful of pink Pucci chairs, the aquarium filled with pink t
ropical fish, and the pink cotton candy machine, the white clothes would stand out all the more, practically screaming for attention.
"And we'll put the mannequin here--the one based on Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch? Eliza giggled, standing in front of the fan and trying to keep her skirt down, just like her idol once had on top of a subway grate. "I mean, that is the most iconic white dress in history."
"You're nuts," Jeremy said fondly, coming up to stroke her hair. "But you're my nut."
"Can you believe I have this store? I had to raid my trust fund to do it, but whatever." Eliza whooped. "This is huge, J. I mean, this is, like, so scary, but so exciting."
"Speaking of exciting," he said, sweeping her into his arms. "I wanted to tell you about what happened to me today. ..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the front door whipped open with a clang, and a harassed-looking Swedish girl tumbled in.
"Is this Eliza Thompson shop?" the girl asked.
"Yes, it is," Eliza said, untangling herself from Jeremy's embrace. "But I'm afraid we're not open for business yet."
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From behind the girl, Suzy's wunderkids from earlier that morning appeared, fanning out inside the store. Violet started gently fingering the clothing, as if afraid it might jump up and bite her, while the little boys dispersed in every direction.
"Are those fighting fish?" Logan asked, coming up to the aquarium and pressing his nose against the glass. The startled fish fled from his magnified face, scattering throughout the tank.
"This is crooked." Jackson straightened a framed photograph of Marlene Dietrich in a white tuxedo that was hung low by the sweater table, getting fingerprints all over the carefully buffed frame.
Wyatt came up to Eliza and tapped her on her shin. "I have to pee," he whispered, cupping a hand over his mouth as if he were sharing a big secret.
"Yes, they're fighting fish," Eliza told Logan as she began to steer Wyatt toward the bathroom. They were perfectly sweet kids, but really, what were they doing in her store?
"This is silk? Where is it made?" Violet held up a white pareo, reading the tag as if it were an information plaque at a museum.
"Actually, the silk comes from a farm in Thailand where the silkworms only eat organic leaves." Eliza smiled, feeling a small surge of pride. She turned to the Swedish girl. "What's going on?"
"I leaving. I get modeling contract. Miss Suzy said Mr. Thompson say you will deal with children--you were also au pair."
