Later That Evening…
"And this is your room, Mr. Vaughn," Zelda said, opening a white-washed door.
The walls were a pale, pink color, with flowered borders. Towards the back left corner was an extravagant canopy bed, complete with light red covers and frilly pillows. A fragrance of roses filled the air.
Zelda noted Link's expression of polite bewilderment. "Er…you might want to do a little re-decorating, sorry. My last nanny was, well, a woman, as were all the ones before her. They never seemed to have a problem with it, but considering you're a…a…" She trailed off awkwardly.
"Right," Link said, nodding.
"Anyway, as this was very short notice, I didn't have time to change the bedding," Zelda went on. "There are extra sheets, pillows, and a comforter in the bathroom just down the hall I showed you earlier; the closet on the left. You can just put all these in their place. Also, if the pink doesn't suit you, please feel free to paint over it."
"Okay," Link said. "Thank you, Ms…it's Cleverly, right?"
"Yes."
"And not…not 'Mrs.…?"
"No, not Mrs." She cleared her throat. "My friend Malon will be staying with us a few days; she's in the room opposite yours. Any questions while I'm away at work and you should ask her. She'd probably be able to answer."
"All right."
There was a silence. Link fingered his bag. Clearing her throat again, Zelda said, "Well Mr. Vaughn, I think I'll retire for the night. Any questions?"
"No questions, just a request."
If Zelda was at all taken aback by this, she masked it well. "And what would that be, Mr. Vaughn?"
"That," Link said, grinning rather adorably. "Please, just call me Link. No need to be formal with the hired help."
"Oh," Zelda said, blushing a little. "Right…well, w-whatever makes you comfortable. Good night, Link."
"Good night, Ms. Cleverly."
Zelda backed out of the room and shut it out of habit. She jumped when out of no where, her red-headed friend appeared at her elbow.
"You're blushing!" Malon hissed in an accusatory tone.
"I am not!" Zelda argued, her hand over her chest because Malon had nearly startled her into a heart attack. "And quiet! Do you want him to hear you?"
"Why are you blushing? Was his shirt off? Did he hit on you?" She gasped. "Oh my Goddesses, did you—"
"Malon!" Zelda said through her teeth. "You are such a perv! I have to get up at 5:00 tomorrow, and I need to sleep!"
"5:00, my butt! You told me you wake up at 6:30 to get to work on time!"
"Tomorrow's Friday—I have to be somewhere early."
"Where do you have to be at five in the morning?!"
"The—the—it's not your business, Malon!" Turning and heading down the stairs, Zelda said, "Nothing you need to worry about, Mal."
"Whatever. See you tomorrow, Zel."
"You might, yeah." And, with no further ado, Zelda walked out of Malon's sight. She crossed the kitchen and the living room on her way to the stark white door and scaled the steps behind it.
As she undressed, Zelda evaluated the conversation she'd just had with Link. She shocked herself by realizing that for the first time in what felt like her life, she had stuttered. Stammered. A Cleverly never did such a thing—Zelda's mother had told her that it was a sign was of weakness or fear. Frowning, Zelda put up her hair and pondered this. Surely she wasn't afraid or scared of Link, why should she be? Did that mean he had made her feel weak? NO! Zelda quickly answered herself. A man making her weak would mean love, or a crush at the very least. Zelda knew she did not feel like that (she was pretty sure, anyway).
Eventually, Zelda managed to clear her thoughts of Link and instead concentrate on the mess she'd be facing at work the next day. And so it was with thoughts filled with old men who'd died at inconvenient times, greedy families, and lawsuits that Zelda went to sleep. But after lying awake in the dark for several long minutes, Zelda sat up, and then got out of bed.
She didn't need to turn on the light; she'd walked this pathway many times before in the dark. Silently, Zelda slid open her closet door, and moved her hand along all the clothes hanging there. She reached the very last coat between her fingers, and pulled it out of the closet.
The coat was very long, and black with red lining. She'd been given it six years earlier, and on particularly hard nights, it was her only comforter. Zelda went back to bed, spreading the jacket (worn from love) over her. It encompassed her small body, making her feel quite protected.
Almost right away, Zelda felt sleep coming. Holding the beloved coat tightly to her, Zelda wondered where its previous owner was now, completely unaware that he was the man sleeping in a room on the other side of her house.
At 5:30 The Next Morning…
Link woke with a start. His heart was beating fast, his fingers involuntarily clutching the sheets. After a moment, he calmed down. What had caused him to wake up so suddenly at—he glanced at the clock—half past five? He strained his ears for any sound that might have done it.
But alas, no noise came. Groaning softly, Link resignedly sat up. What to do at 5:30 in the morning? he mused inwardly. His eyes were too tired to read, and he didn't want to turn on a TV or radio for fear of disturbing someone else in the house. He could always try going back to sleep…not.
He rolled out of bed. The room smelled like a bad Lysol scent had exploded within it. Link walked over towards his bag. He pulled a pair of flannel pajama bottoms on over his boxers, and then put on a green hoodie. Next came the black shoes, and he was ready to go.
Go where?
Digby's Doughnuts, he ultimately decided. Link picked up the keys to his pick-up truck and went quietly out the (front) door. Giving the car clock a passing glance as he pulled out of the driveway, Link wondered if the doughnut place was even open. Well, that would be life, was the profound conclusion he came to.
So far, he was the only one on the street. Wait; there goes a jaguar.
Approximately seven minutes later, he arrived at Digby's Doughnuts. There was one forest green jeep in the back lot, and Link assumed it belonged to the person who was working inside the place.
He was right. It was to a small, mustachioed man that Link told his order for a Boston Crème and one jelly doughnut.
"Every day, God punishes me," the little man grumbled under his breath, entering the price into his cash register.
"Erm…pardon?" Link asked, raising an eyebrow, not sure if he was supposed to have heard the comment or not.
"Ever day, God punishes me!" the man shouted. He angrily threw Link's bag across the counter. "Every morning, I get up at 4:30, making eight dozen doughnuts, and with no help! NONE! I don't even LIKE doughnuts! And what are you doing up at this Godforsaken hour?!"
Link shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
"Couldn't sleep!" the man cried indignantly, as if he was angry with Link's insomnia. "Couldn't sleep! What I would give for just another minute of sleep!"
"But think about it," Link said, handing over his credit card. "If I hadn't gotten up and come here, you wouldn't have been able to vent all your anger off at me with your infuriated monologue." And he left he small man there to contemplate this as he exited the shop, smiling.
Now, where to go…there was only one place. Link backed out of the lot and headed down Telegraph. 5:52. The meager sun was still hiding behind the gray clouds, creating an atmosphere that was thoroughly monochromatic, almost to the point of being depressing. A couple more cars met him at the intersection; businessmen who appeared as though they had not yet had their morning coffee.
Link rolled down his window and could finally smell it: the salty ocean breeze which meant he was coming closer to his destination…He got Radio Head's "Talk Show Host" stuck in his head… Sand meeting the water. Salt waves. Clouds. Scintillating. It was an empty, early morning beach.
Wait, not completely empty. There was one person sitting there… on a beach chair, right at the spot where the water would crawl over her toes, then recede.
Frowning, Link slowly walked down the concrete pathway, eventually reaching the sand. Here he stopped, choosing to try and figure out if he knew the person. It was a she, he could tell—guys didn't have legs like that.
Indeed, she was wearing a pair of black shorts over what looked like a black bathing suit. On leg was raised bent slightly, her knee in the air. Link wondered if she was asleep, but couldn't tell for the black Audrey Hepburn-esque sunglasses she was wearing. What a beautiful profile it was, Link thought, transfixed. She moved—she was getting up. Following some odd, involuntary instinct, he moved behind a bathroom stall. The tall, willowy figure put on a white beach robe and was now walking slowly along the sand, just barely allowing the water to touch her feet.
And that, after spotting a silver Lexus in the lot, was when Link realized he was staring avidly at his new boss (which, I'm sure, is something you figured out long before now). Zelda pulled her robe tighter around her, and slid the sunglasses to the top of her golden hair. She was not smiling, she was not frowning.
She was just a single woman walking along the beach, exuding not the slightest emotion. Queen Christina.
Link shook his head and told himself his peeping Tom-ing had gone on long enough. He didn't want Zelda's electric blue eyes to see him and find out he'd left the house early on his first day of work (he justified himself by noting that if Zelda's friend was not also at the house—with Megan—he would not have left in the first place).
Biting into the Boston Crème, Link wondered why Zelda was at a beach so early in the morning. Maybe she'd had insomnia, too. Driving away, he felt as if the beach had never seemed so…sad. Even the couple times he'd gone at six a.m., it had still felt relaxing. Link decided it was something about Zelda. In retrospect she had a depressed aura about her, as if she was always contemplating stress. She was a beauty, in fact one of the most beautiful people Link had ever known, but it was a cold beauty. She was a very intriguing person and Link was burning to know more about her.
I'll have to interrogate that friend of hers, he thought.
Once he pulled back into the Cleverly driveway, Link stopped the motor and put his feet up over on the passenger seat. He pulled the jelly doughnut out of the bag and bit into it. Suddenly a dirty mental image entered his mind, and Link nearly gagged on the doughnut trying to get it out of his head. He quickly set out to think of something else, more innocent, and he landed on little Megan Cleverly.
And he stayed on that safe subject until a quarter to seven. Leaving his doughnut bag in the truck, Link walked back towards the house and entered it quietly.
He went into the living room and sat down on a long, beige couch. It was a little firm, but the large pillows on either side were big and squishy. What to do, what to do… Link didn't want to appear nosy, but he couldn't help noticing a large photo album someone had left out. As a person who greatly admired photography, he tentatively reached forward and picked it up off the glass table it lay on. Before opening it up, Link involuntarily looked around, as if nervous he'd get caught. Not that he was doing anything wrong…
First page.
A red-headed girl was getting what appeared to be a piggy-back ride from a boy who also had red hair—they both looked about sixteen. Beneath this photograph was one of the same girl, only this time she was standing outside of a Broadway theater next to a black-haired girl. The first had her mouth wide open in song, while the latter gave her an embarrassed sideways look. Then Link spotted the captions:
Me and Roy outside Golf 'n' Stuff. And, Me and Viv outside 'Cats.' Apparently, this is one 'Memory' Vivien will want to forget!
He grinned and turned the page. There was a photo of two girls standing on a stage: the familiar red-head was at an electric keyboard, and she was accompanied by a blonde in front of a microphone.
Me and Zelda at the ninth grade talent show, simply blowing everyone away with our rendition of Everybody's Somebody's Fool.
Link's eyes widened. Zelda? Could that be his boss? He wondered how many Zeldas there could possibly be in the world. Link brought the picture closer to his eyes and squinted. He wasn't positive if it was his new boss or not, because the picture hadn't been taken from very close.
Underneath this photo was one of the blonde and this time two red-heads. They were standing outside a coffee house. Zelda, Terra, and me outside their dad's new coffee house. He took the picture.
On the other side of the spread, the top photograph caused confusion: He could see one figure had been deliberately torn out of it; there was no typed caption, only "Zelda's mother's wedding," in neat, penciled handwriting. The person that had been ripped out was the one Zelda was hugging—all that was left of him now was an arm around her waist.
Yes, that was definitely a younger Zelda Cleverly. He could tell, even though she looked totally different because she was glowing with excitement and obvious beauty, a genuine toothy smile on her face.
Link flipped through the rest of the album, stopping now and then on a picture that caught his eye. One such photo was another of Zelda and the red-head. The latter was grinning and had her arms around the boy Link recognized from the first picture in the book. Zelda, however, was standing off to the side without an escort. She was smiling, but Link could tell it was only for the millisecond her picture was being taken—he knew once the photographer was done, she'd dropped the smile. It didn't reach her eyes like the last one had.
Zel, me, and Roy at her mom's wedding.
This had to be a second wedding, Link thought, mostly because Zelda's facial expressions were so radically different. Also, flipping back, he realized both Malon and Zelda had on different outfits; Roy appeared to be wearing the same tux.
"Well, good morning."
Link nearly dropped the album from surprise. He found himself staring at a very becoming, leggy red-head and, after about two awkward seconds, realized she was the girl who'd been in nearly all the photos. Rather uncomfortably, he set the album down and slowly stood up.
"Hi, my name's Link Vaughn," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Miss Cleverly's new…um…"
Malon smiled. It was so weird to hear someone call Zelda that. "Right, she told me about hiring you. My name's Malon Rancher, I'm an old high school pal of your boss, Mr. Vaughn."
"Rancher, huh?"
"Yeah, a lot of my ancestors actually had horse ranches—that's where we assume the name came from. The family practically wanted to disown my father when he moved out to the 'burbs to open a grocery."
"Wow. Um…sorry, I think this was your album I was kind of looking through. I don't want to come off as nosy or anything, I just like pictures."
"That's okay, s'no problem," Malon assured him, taking the album. "I just got this out to look at last night, but ended up being too tired." She flipped through it, laughing a couple times. "Did you look at all of these?"
"Oh, no," Link answered quickly. "Just about four or five."
"You want some dirt on your boss?" Malon asked, grinning wickedly.
"Uh, sure," Link said, smiling warily.
"Go on and sit down—don't worry, I won't show you any dull pictures of weird people you don't know… oh, this is Zel—Miss Cleverly's only sister, Vivien (Cleverly) Lee. She was—"
"Her name is Vivien Leigh?!" Link interrupted, shocked.
"Oh, not like that, though," Malon laughed. "It's spelled L-e-e. She married a Chinese guy a couple years back."
"Ah, right. Sorry, go ahead."
"Right. Anyway, she was probably about eighteen or nineteen in this, and now she's like this brilliant doctor in Arkansas."
Looking at this picture of Vivien, Link recalled what his sexist father had once said—"a pretty girl should be able to get by on her looks alone, and not have to become something brainy like a doctor or a dentist." Malon moved to turn the page, but Link gently put his finger down and stared at the picture, as if looking for something.
"They don't…look all that much alike," he commented quietly. "But they look as if they have the same nose…"
"That's what everyone says," Malon added. "The same mouth, too. Viv takes more after their mom, and Zelda their dad."
Link hadn't really noticed the mouths—their noses were both sharp, a little pointed, but thin, and were perfect examples, actually, of what Link thought the ideal nose looked like.
Malon turned the page, then laughed. "Oh, Everybody's Somebody's Fool! I don't suppose you know that song?"
"Afraid I don't. Is it eighties?"
"Sixties, actually," Malon smirked. "The Grand Madame Cleverly didn't let her kids listen to any contemporary music, because she thought it was 'evil'. She only allowed her old music in the house, but of course, whenever Zelda was at someone's house she'd make them play all their CDs."
"I can see why," Link snorted. "That would suck."
"So when Zelda and I wanted to sing for the school talent show, we knew it had to be something old…and we picked that one."
For some reason, Link couldn't see his Debbie-Downer boss singing. "You guys will have to perform that one for me some time."
Grinning, Malon only said, "We'll see…oh, that's us outside a shop her step dad opened. Her sister Terra is the one next to me."
"Didn't you say Vivien was Zelda's only sister?" Link asked, furrowing his brow.
"Oh, yeah, sorry—Vivien is her only…full sister. Terra, the one in the picture, had a different father from them. He died when Terra was about three or four, I think."
"Oh, wow," Link whispered.
"You know how volleyballs and tennis balls and stuff are made by a company called Wilson?" Malon asked, smiling slightly.
"Uh, yeah…?" Link said slowly, wondering where this was going.
"Well, that was Terra's last name—Wilson—and everyone called her by it, even when all her siblings were called by Cleverly. She was an amazing athlete—played just about every sport known to man."
"It's a fitting name."
Suddenly a little ringing noise went off. Malon jumped and took a cell phone out of her pocket. She flipped it open. "Hello? Oh, hi…could you hold on just a sec?" Malon put her hand over the speaker and said to Link, "I gotta take this—but don't look through the rest of that without me, huh?"
"No worries," Link replied with a grin.
Smiling, Malon said, "Thanks," then went back to her cell phone conversation. Link nodded and stood up. He didn't want Malon to feel like he was eavesdropping, so he moved by the kitchen into the grand entrance hall. He stood about ten feet in front of the front door, and there was one room on either side of him.
Link entered the door to his right. There was a large xylophone with black and silver alternating keys off to the side. Opposite this instrument was the grandest piano Link had ever laid his eyes upon. It was black as coal, shiny and sleek as a newly shined shoe. He moved around it and felt the bench. It was pure velvet.
"Wow."
He felt a sudden urge to touch the piano, play just one short song. But almost immediately after this thought came to him, he realized he shouldn't: it was like being at a very nice art gallery. Look, don't touch. Quiet as a church. Link's fingers were dirty, he'd leave prints, he'd bring down the beauty of this instrument. He assumed that the xylophone belonged to Megan (somehow he could not picture his boss playing one), and he could understand why Zelda hadn't wanted to buy one of those ones with garish orange, blue, green and yellow keys.
Resisting the temptation to open the piano, Link turned his back on it and faced a bookshelf. Here were many, many books and sheets of music. The top two shelves seemed to be devoted to first grade level music, so Link stopped to see what kind was on the bottom.
Carousel, The King and I, 42nd Street, Mozart, Bach, Tchaikovsky, Gershwin…he pulled this last one out and opened it, wondering how advanced Zelda's piano skills were. Link's eyebrows nearly rose off his head—there were so many notes embedded on the page, he could barely see the bars. The key had five flats (which was THAT?), and a little while later it was changed to four sharps. Link had thought he knew most of what was one sheet music, but there were least six symbols on this paper alone that he could not even remotely recognize.
Guess she's pretty good, he reasoned.
After putting the book back, he straightened up again and took to staring at what appeared to be a window. Link was guessing this because there was something large being covered by a drawn, dark green curtain. He felt as if by opening it, he'd be breaking some kind of unspoken law, like he'd felt with opening the piano. But that was silly—it was just a window, right?
WRONG!
But Link didn't know or suspect that. He figured that the room needed a little light. So saying, he took it upon himself to open the curtain. Only, like I said, what Link found behind it was not a window.
It was a family portrait that consisted of four of the most beautiful women Link had ever seen. Gaping slightly, he backed up and sat down on the velvet piano bench, staring in awe.
Two of the women, the ones on the left, were wearing black. The other two on the right were dressed in crimson. The one furthest on the left, Link had recognized right away—those light blue eyes and blonde, blonde hair had been a dead giveaway. It was a younger Zelda Cleverly, at least five years younger. He could tell because she was holding an eighteen-month baby in her arms (at least it looked that old), a baby Link could only assume was her own Megan.
But another thing Link had noticed: Not Zelda nor the baby was smiling. In fact, none of the girls were; they all looked somber. In most family portraits, everyone was smiling, maybe feigning seriousness, but these girls looked sad, no bones about it. He had thought perhaps Zelda might've shown the slightest bit of new-mother-giddiness, but no such luck at all.
The girl seated all the way to the right was also holding a baby, a boy. Her hair was wavy and black, down to just about her shoulders. Her eyes were two bright green emeralds, shining but with no warmth. The position of her eyebrows mimicked her enviable widow's peak, and her grim expression seemed almost natural. The woman's baby was slightly older looking than Megan. Then Link remembered that this was Zelda's sister Vivien, who had been in the second picture of Malon's album. In that photo she hadn't been smiling obviously, but there had been an amused glint in her eyes and a shadow of a grin on her face that were no longer there.
Standing behind Vivien was a brunette Link had not seen before. She was both plain and pretty at the same time; deep, chocolate-brown eyes that matched her hair, parted down the middle, dark with small high-lights of brighter brown here and there. Her slightly furrowed brow implied that at the moment, she was contemplating something very bothersome indeed.
Next to this stranger was another familiar girl. A heart-shaped face was framed by wonderfully straight reddish-brown hair. She had duller green eyes than Vivien, but they were just as appealing to look at. Link tried to picture the woman smiling, and realized she was one of Zelda's other sisters, Terra.
And finally, Link's eyes rested on Zelda again. Yesterday (and this morning), her hair had been pulled back, so that not even one strand was out of place. In this portrait, though, her hair was flowing down over her shoulders, tucked behind her ears. He noted that it reached down to about her elbows.
Upon closer inspection, Link noticed that it wasn't a painting, but a photograph superimposed on a canvas. He longed to reach up and touch it, but once again had to fight hard to restrain himself. "Wow," he murmured for the second time. He kept looking at their eyes, and for similarities… blue, hazel, brown, green.
Zelda and Vivien had the same nose; she and the brunette shared eyes and heads of the same shape; Terra and Vivien had the same pointed chin; all these little things that made Link wish he had at least one brother or sister. Slowly, he drew the curtain back. Shuddering slightly, he walked out of the room and crossed the hall. There he was met by a pair of shut doors. Curiously, they were locked. This was indeed a little annoying, but Link knew nothing would come of trying to force open the door. It was just a room.
A/N
Or is it just a room? Hm…you'll have to wait a while to find out.