this house was a palace, and it was August and there wasn’t even a hint
of humidity in the air. Okay, so she hadn’t met the mysterious Brooke yet, but as Molly closed her eyes and let the fragrant
breeze play on her face, even that didn’t feel like a problem. It turned out optimism was pretty easy to muster on her own
private balcony overlooking a peaceful Southern Californian paradise. She’d waited this long to find out about Brooke Berlin;
it wouldn’t kill her to wait a little longer.
“So then I said to Wolfie, ‘I think the Puck stops here!’ ”
Silence.
“The Puck!” Brick repeated. “Get it?”
Molly realized too late that this was Brick’s punch line. She wasn’t surprised that, based on his résumé, he was better at
landing
actual
punches.
“That’s hilarious!” she mustered. “Um, I love Wolfgang Puck’s frozen pizza.”
“He lives up the street. This steak is from his restaurant, you know,” Brick said proudly. “And my cook did the sushi. He
used to be an Iron Chef.” He shot her a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”
Molly gazed at the juicy filets mignons and beautiful, precisely wrapped sushi rolls on the plates before them. She was starving.
But the food sat untouched. Molly’s eyes flicked up to the empty seat across the dining table and wondered which was eating
at her more: hunger or curiosity.
“I’m going to call her,” Brick said, frowning at his watch.
Molly’s good mood from earlier had devolved back into nerves. She’d sworn she would greet Brooke with a relaxed and positive
attitude, no matter what, but that vow was a lot easier to make when their meeting was just an abstraction. In the two hours
since Molly’s arrival, which she’d spent putting approximately one shirt in each of the zillion drawers in her walk-in closet
and watching a marathon of
Teen Cribs
, Brooke’s continued absence became a silence that was very loud indeed. Brick seemed so anxious about it that Molly wondered
if she should be offended by the vanishing act.
Suddenly, the echo of a large door slamming reverberated through to where they sat.
“That must be her now,” Brick said, relieved.
“Sorry, Daddy!” a voice floated in from the foyer. “Ari had a Prada emergency.”
Brisk footsteps clacked closer and closer toward the dining room door. Molly sat on her hands to keep from chewing her fingernails.
Despite her best efforts, her foot, which had begun bouncing manically five minutes ago, would not stay still. She forced
herself to make eye contact with the threshold Brooke Berlin was about to cross, and, for the second time that day, felt goose
bumps push up through her skin.
Here we go
, she thought.
five
“ YOU MUST BE MY NEW SISTER! ”
A tall blonde with bouncing curls glided into the dining room, bringing with her the shortest skirt, longest legs, and tallest
stilettos Molly had ever seen. It was Brooke Berlin in the flesh, and showing off rather a lot of it.
“I’m so happy to meet you!” Brooke squealed, hugging her before Molly even had a chance to get out of her seat. “Welcome to
our wonderful home!”
Brooke had her clasped so tight, she was practically lifting Molly out of her chair. Molly, taken aback, breathed in sharply
and almost inhaled a chunk of Brooke’s hair.
“Brookie, it’s not polite to be this late,” Brick scolded.
“I know, Daddy, but Ari’s wardrobe malfunction wasn’t going to fix itself. I’m
super
sorry!”
Brooke dropped Molly and sailed over to her seat, shaking out her napkin with the wide smile that her suspiciously fawning
Wikipedia page called “a beacon of hope for our future.” Molly tried not to stare, but it was difficult: Brooke may not have
been truly beautiful, but she was so well groomed that you’d never notice. The dress was designer, the eyelashes were false,
the hair was either abundantly natural or expensively synthetic, and the purse
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