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“What brings you to the Outer Banks?” He asks, turning down the radio. Not that he needs to. Unlike most guys his age who’d be blasting rock, pop, or rap, he’s listening to some New Age crap that sounds like waterfalls tumbling over rocks.
“I’m looking for a fresh start.”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen. How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
We lapse into silence but it’s short-lived when he asks, “Why aren’t you in college?”
“Why aren’t you?” I counter, though I know the answer. If his parents are rich and have owned Arcania for centuries, he doesn’t need to study. He’ll inherit the lot once his wealthy folks are gone.
“I’ve completed my bachelor’s in economics.”
I make a scoffing sound and he sniggers. “I don’t like to brag, but I’m gifted. Finished school at fifteen, completed my degree last year.”
“Good for you.”
He laughs at my sarcasm. “Don’t sweat it. College isn’t for everyone.”
He’s got that right. I barely made it through high school, my focus on finishing so I could leave Miami and never look back.
I won’t be missed. Mom barely acknowledged I existed over the years, her never-ending string of loser boyfriends taking all her attention. She worked as a receptionist at an attorney’s office—ironic, because half the guys she dated probably needed a lawyer to keep them out of prison at one stage or another—so she earned enough to clothe and feed me, but that’s where her mothering ended. When I hit my teens, we argued. A lot. She didn’t like me criticizing her choice of companionship, I didn’t like the way she couldn’t see what was happening right under her nose when those sleazebags would look at me with lust in their eyes.
So I plotted and planned and waited until here I am, being interrogated by some rich jerk I have to play nice with, so I have a roof over my head until I find a job.
“I may not have gone to college, but I’m a fast learner,” I say, hating how inferior he’s making me feel. “Speaking of which, do you know of anyone who needs help around here?”
“You want a job?”
“Yeah.” Like yesterday, considering my pitiful funds.
“One of our workers left unexpectedly last night, so there’s an opening. My folks will want to interview you, but I’ll vouch for you.”
I’m instantly on guard. He doesn’t know me. Why would he put in a good word?
“Let me get this straight. Arcania houses newbies in town like me for free and you’ll pay me to work there?”
If something sounds too good to be true, it usually is and despite my precarious position, I’m not an idiot. He’s probably figured I’m a runaway and who knows what may happen if I trust him?
He gives me side eye. “Don’t make it sound creepy. We’re like a family at Arcania. Everyone loves it.”
“Who’s everyone?”
“As you know, my folks own it. Then there’s Spencer and Daphne, who basically run the place, pseudo housekeepers, I guess. Spencer oversees the day to day running in the house, Daphne the kitchen. There’s about twenty people working the orchard and staying long term at the moment, but more come and go.”
“What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a jack of all trades.” His audible pride makes him sit taller. Conceited, much? “I do what needs to be done.”
There’s an undercurrent of something I can’t put my finger on beneath his pride, but I’m distracted from asking because he slows the car, turns off the highway, and I get my first glimpse of Arcania.
It’s spectacular and much bigger than I imagined. It’s like the French provincial mansions Mom used to gush over on TV—symmetrical architecture, ivory brick exterior, steep roof, arched-top windows—but it’s the size that impresses me. It’s huge. I don’t have time to count all the front windows before Harlan follows an unpaved road around the side of the house, and that’s when I see where everyone lives. About fifteen massive tents circle a monstrous fire pit, but these are no ordinary tents. They look like those posh, glamping ones for people who want to try camping but hate the basics.
“Impressive, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say, unable to subdue a tiny flicker of excitement. Living and working here would be great and to luck into it on my first day arriving in this place…my life has been crap to date, so maybe this is karma’s way of finally giving me a break?
