A steady,heftypaycheck.
“I outlined it all in the letter, of course,” said Philip, sizing him up over the lip of his drink, “but Vivienne has chosen, for quite some time now, not to speak.”
“She hasn’tchosen,” hissed Amelia. “She’s been traumatized into silence.”
“Amelia.”
Her name was a warning. She didn’t heed it.
“What?If he’s going to live under our roof, you might as well tell him.”
A terse silence followed. For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the clink of ice, the muffled hum of the landscaper’s string trimmer.
“All in due time,” said Philip, draining his glass. Fixing his gaze on Thomas, he smiled thinly. “I’m quite certain you didn’t drive all this way without doing some digging of your own. Kids your age can find just about anything on the internet. I take it you’ve seen Vivienne’s numerous social media accounts?”
“I’ve seen them, sir,” Thomas admitted, since there was no point in lying.
“She’s a pretty girl, our Vivienne,” said Philip. “I’m sure you noticed.”
Thomas’s voice lodged inside his throat. Every answer felt like the wrong one.
“Philip.”Amelia reappeared from behind the curtains. “This isn’t the courtroom. Don’t make him uncomfortable.”
“What? The boy has eyes. She’s a looker, isn’t she, Walsh?”
“She is, sir.” The words came out flat.
“That’s right, she is.” Philip looked mollified by Thomas’s cooperation. “And in spite of our best efforts, she’s not particularly careful about what she posts online. A girl like that tends to draw attention. All kinds of attention. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I’m, er, not sure I do.”
“Vivienne has spent her life in something of a bubble. I’ll take the blame for that—we’ve always been overprotective. And who can blame us, given the state of the world?”
This time, the scoff from Amelia was unmistakable. Philip’s smile flickered.
“Over the past year,” he went on, “her online presence has popped that bubble. She’s meeting new people. Unsavory people, well outside our trusted circles. Her mother and I are concerned that these new friends of hers may be negatively impacting her ability to make safe decisions.”
“That’s a whole lot of words to say what you really want from him,” Amelia snapped, finally emerging from behind the curtains. “Don’t beat around the bush. Just come right out and tell him. He’s here to play the part of your little spider.”
Thomas’s unease opened into a gulf inside his chest.
“There’s no need for histrionics,” said Philip, plucking at an invisible bit of lint. “If Walsh overhears something that he feels puts Vivienne’s safety at risk, I expect him to let me know. It’s hardly covert espionage.”
“It’s a violation of her privacy.”
“You and I both know Vivienne forfeited her right to privacy a long time ago.”
“Sorry,” said Thomas, loud enough to draw the focus back to him. “I, uh, don’t know that I’m comfortable spying on someone without their knowledge.”
Philip shot Amelia a brief but scathing now-look-what-you’ve- done glance. By the time his focus shifted back to Thomas, there was a placative smile in place of his scowl. “Let me reassure you, son, Vivienne is well aware that whoever works with her will be reporting back to me. She’s lived under my roof all her life. She knows how I run my house. I expect a certain kind of order. Your presence here will merely help to reinforce that order.”
“Oh,” said Thomas, who didn’t feel reassured by that at all.
For the briefest of instants, he imagined himself politely declining the offer. And then he imagined driving back home to Worcester—to the sparse fridge and the counter stacked with bills—and the daydream flagged and died.
His mother was a few missed payments away from foreclosure. His scholarship money was gone. If he wanted a future—anykind of future—there was nothing else for him to do but take this job.
“I don’t like it,” said Amelia after a terse silence. “Neither will Vivienne.”
