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Authors: Fern Michaels
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the chair behind it. He frowned when he saw a tag on the chair that said it was ergonomically designed. Whatever the hell that meant. Later he would look it up in his brand-new Random House Dictionary that sat on his desk right next to his brand-new Random House Encyclopedia. Centered on the desk was a Gucci wallet with five hundred dollars in twenty-dollar denominations in it, a Gucci watch with a stark black face, and a Gucci key ring with one key on it. The key to the house.
The key made everything official. He finally belonged to someone. Leo was his family. Leo had gone to great lengths to do all these things. He remembered the Jacuzzi.
Pete hopped over to the bathroom, reached inside and turned on the light. He gasped. It was something out of Arabian Nights. It was all shiny black with gold accents. He blinked. Was this a guyâs bathroom? Obviously his uncle thought so. He could see himself in the floor, on the wall tile, in the mirror over the triple sink. A black toilet and another toilet without a seat stared up at him. He experimented and grinned. The sunken Jacuzzi was black and gold marble with three steps leading up to it and then three steps leading down into the water. All he had to do was press three buttons and he would have light and music at the same time, the whirlpool would activate, and the temperature would rise to 104. A shower with a bench in it was larger than two normal-size bathrooms. Recessed lighting made everything sparkle. He wondered if the fixtures were gold or gold-plated. He decided he didnât care one way or the other.
He hopped back to the living room, stopping long enough to pick up the picture of his parents before he made his way over to the deep white chair next to the fireplace. He took one second to appreciate the fact that there was a fireplace in his room, a fire neatly laid for use in October, when he wouldnât be here.
It was all so goddamn, fucking perfect.
Pete snuggled into the chair and stared at the picture in his hands. Obviously it had been a snapshot his uncle had enlarged. He was so grateful, he cried. And cried.
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Two days later Pete walked down to the gatehouse to accept a special delivery letter addressed to him. It was his acceptance letter to Harvard University. For the guardâs benefit, he let out a whoop of something that sounded like joy.
The following days passed in a blur for Pete. He took his driverâs test and passed. He wasnât at all surprised when a man from the motor vehicle station came to the estate and gave him his test in the back courtyard. A tennis instructor showed up and shared the fine points of tennis. The day after that, a golf pro arrived, showed him how to handle the clubs, and set up a schedule that wouldnât interfere with his tennis lessons. A lifeguard from the country club taught him to swim in two days. He felt silly as hell floating around the huge pool with two Clorox bottles tied to his arms, but he didnât drown, which was the point. Leo was offering the basics in everything he chose to pursue. The Coast Guard course was offered to him on an individual basis and was also done at home, three days a week for two weeks. He passed with flying colors.
Just about all his bruises and cuts were healed. He was able to put his full weight on his leg now, and a few more therapy sessions, also at home, would allow the doctor to pronounce him A-Okay.
He had breakfast and dinner with his uncle every day. Once or twice a week they played chess. Sometimes they watched a television program together and ate popcorn.
They werenât bonding, and they both knew it, but they tried, and then they tried harder.
And then summer was over and he was packing to leave for Harvard.
The six pieces of French luggage were stowed in the backseat and in the trunk next to his surfboard. His trunk with his bedding and pillows had been sent on by Albert the butler days ago. All that remained was to say thank you,
The key made everything official. He finally belonged to someone. Leo was his family. Leo had gone to great lengths to do all these things. He remembered the Jacuzzi.
Pete hopped over to the bathroom, reached inside and turned on the light. He gasped. It was something out of Arabian Nights. It was all shiny black with gold accents. He blinked. Was this a guyâs bathroom? Obviously his uncle thought so. He could see himself in the floor, on the wall tile, in the mirror over the triple sink. A black toilet and another toilet without a seat stared up at him. He experimented and grinned. The sunken Jacuzzi was black and gold marble with three steps leading up to it and then three steps leading down into the water. All he had to do was press three buttons and he would have light and music at the same time, the whirlpool would activate, and the temperature would rise to 104. A shower with a bench in it was larger than two normal-size bathrooms. Recessed lighting made everything sparkle. He wondered if the fixtures were gold or gold-plated. He decided he didnât care one way or the other.
He hopped back to the living room, stopping long enough to pick up the picture of his parents before he made his way over to the deep white chair next to the fireplace. He took one second to appreciate the fact that there was a fireplace in his room, a fire neatly laid for use in October, when he wouldnât be here.
It was all so goddamn, fucking perfect.
Pete snuggled into the chair and stared at the picture in his hands. Obviously it had been a snapshot his uncle had enlarged. He was so grateful, he cried. And cried.
Â
Two days later Pete walked down to the gatehouse to accept a special delivery letter addressed to him. It was his acceptance letter to Harvard University. For the guardâs benefit, he let out a whoop of something that sounded like joy.
The following days passed in a blur for Pete. He took his driverâs test and passed. He wasnât at all surprised when a man from the motor vehicle station came to the estate and gave him his test in the back courtyard. A tennis instructor showed up and shared the fine points of tennis. The day after that, a golf pro arrived, showed him how to handle the clubs, and set up a schedule that wouldnât interfere with his tennis lessons. A lifeguard from the country club taught him to swim in two days. He felt silly as hell floating around the huge pool with two Clorox bottles tied to his arms, but he didnât drown, which was the point. Leo was offering the basics in everything he chose to pursue. The Coast Guard course was offered to him on an individual basis and was also done at home, three days a week for two weeks. He passed with flying colors.
Just about all his bruises and cuts were healed. He was able to put his full weight on his leg now, and a few more therapy sessions, also at home, would allow the doctor to pronounce him A-Okay.
He had breakfast and dinner with his uncle every day. Once or twice a week they played chess. Sometimes they watched a television program together and ate popcorn.
They werenât bonding, and they both knew it, but they tried, and then they tried harder.
And then summer was over and he was packing to leave for Harvard.
The six pieces of French luggage were stowed in the backseat and in the trunk next to his surfboard. His trunk with his bedding and pillows had been sent on by Albert the butler days ago. All that remained was to say thank you,
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