“Nice to meet you, too,” she said.

Fred turned to her father. “Bob, I want to take a look at the southwest irrigation ditch, if you have a moment. I know you all just arrived, but darned if that hose hasn’t backed up and filled it in again.”

24

The Other Boy

“Damn. Not that thing again. You know, I think if we try that black tubing . . .” The two men disappeared around the side of the house, Bob gesturing and talking animatedly, Fred nodding.

Mom was loading herself up with bags and a big box of groceries. “The front door key is buried in my bag somewhere, but the kitchen door’s open.”

“Why can’t we just pull the car around back?” Maddy asked. “That would be a lot easier than hauling all this stuff around.”

“Grab that suitcase, will you? We can’t pull the car around. The trees are too close—it won’t fit.”

“Mom, I have to pee so bad!”

“Well, go inside—take the suitcase with you. The bathroom’s upstairs. There’s only one.”

“What?” Maddy couldn’t hide her unintentional indignation.

Mom straightened up and pressed her lips together. She looked like she was about to say something but decided against it.

“Whatever!” Maddy said hastily. “What I meant was, great! I adore sharing a bathroom with my parents and assorted wildlife. Maybe Jasper the pig would like to move in also.”

“Perhaps he would. Why don’t you go back down the driveway and ask him?” Mom said calmly.

They heaved the bags and boxes around to the back, 25

Hailey Abbott

which was covered by another shady porch. A swing and an array of wooden rocking chairs dotted the yard. Trellises stood against the sides of the house, covered in climbing roses. A large lawn spread out in a semicircle, surrounded on all sides by twisty grapevines. Clusters of lush purple grapes hung down. They looked delicious. Ignoring her bladder, Maddy wandered over to the grapes and picked a few of the ripest. They were firm and smooth and covered with a hint of silvery frost. Her mouth was already watering. She popped them into her mouth and bit down. Hot, sweet juice spurted onto her tongue. Mmm. Wow. They were more intensely grape-y than anything she’d ever tasted. She glanced back at the house and carefully spat the thick skins and seeds onto the ground.

Maddy lugged her suitcase up the back steps and pushed open the screen door. She stepped into a little back hallway. She heard Mom already banging cabinet doors in a yellow-painted kitchen to her right. A steep wooden staircase extended up in front of her. She climbed the steps, listening to them creak under her feet. The upstairs hallway was narrow, with a few rooms visible through their half-open doors. Maddy briefly took in the cream-painted walls, wide-planked hardwood floors, and sunlight pouring in through open windows. She spotted the bathroom at the end of the hall and darted in. It was tiny, with just enough room for a 26

The Other Boy

pedestal sink, a toilet, and a huge old tub that looked like it was made of copper. The floor was covered with old-fashioned black and white hexagonal tiles. A distressed old armoire painted shabby-chic white stood in a corner. Maddy thought longingly of the heated towel racks, three showerheads, and vast marble countertop of her private bathroom at home.

She turned on the water at the freestanding sink and stuck her hands underneath. “Yowch!” she yelped, and yanked her hands back, shaking off droplets of scalding water. Maddy glared at the sink. Two faucets. Of course this house would have a sink from like 1776 with separate faucets for hot and cold. She scowled and dried her hands on her sweatpants.

There were three other doors in the hallway besides the one leading to the bathroom. The first room had an antique rolltop desk pushed against a wall, an old sofa, and a bookcase overflowing with books and papers. A laptop sat on the desk. That must be the room they’re using as the vineyard office, Maddy thought. She peeked into what must have been her parents’ room next. A big bed with an old brass headboard stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by a sea of boxes. Every room had funny slanted walls and low wooden ceilings. Maddy felt like she was on a ship.

There was only one door left, at the end of the hallway. “Is this end room mine?” Maddy called down the 27

Hailey Abbott

stairs to her mom, who was still clattering around in the kitchen.

“Yes, it is!” she called back.

A cool breeze blew against Maddy’s face as she walked in the door. Across the room, big glass doors leading to a balcony were flung open. The walls were a soft sage green. One wall slanted down almost to the floor. A little corner alcove held a built-in cushioned bench covered with pretty pillows. The polished wooden floors were bare except for a few woven rugs. A fourposter bed was covered with a green and white fernpatterned bedspread. There was a big, old-fashioned wardrobe in one corner and a white vanity table, the kind with a mirror on top, and a cushioned stool. Maddie sat on the corner of the vanity table. What was she going to do here? Everything was so little and creaky and old. She felt caged in already. She stood and went over to the open doors. The green rows of grapevines stretched out for miles before her, with rolling grassy hills in the background, streaked here and there with bands of dark pine trees. Far away, on a hill, the tiny red dot of a tractor moved slowly across the landscape. Maddy couldn’t help thinking of the view from her room back in the city, with the bay spread out like a wrinkled blue sheet, the Golden Gate Bridge shrouded in fog, and the city crowded to the edge of the water.

28

The Other Boy

She reluctantly dragged the big blue suitcase into her new room from the hall. She felt exhausted, like she’d been traveling for a week. Just that morning, she had woken up in her own huge bed on silky Egyptian cotton sheets, snuggled up under her plush brown duvet in her room, with its remote-control lighting and sleek stereo system. But now she was sharing a room with eight million mosquitoes and Lord knew what other wildlife. And there was no escape.

Maddy gathered up an armful of dresses and skirts, most of them still on the hangers, and started stuffing them into the wardrobe in the corner. It took about thirty seconds for her to fill up the hanging section. She struggled to shove in a few more pieces, then stared first at the wardrobe and then at her suitcase in dismay. She hadn’t unpacked even a quarter of the things she’d brought. Panting a little, she managed to shut the wardrobe door by hurling her shoulder against it. She stood back. The sleeve of a cashmere sweater was stuck between the door panels.

Maddy flopped onto the fluffy bedspread like a wet rag. “Ooohhh!” she moaned to the ceiling. “I am officially living my worst nightmare.”

29

Chapter Five

!

When Maddy’s cell rang at dusk, she snatched it like it might magically transport her back to civilization and save her from morosely staring out at the gathering blue and purple shadows on the lawn.

“How’s the prison inmate?” Morgan crackled from the other end.

“Oh my God! I am so glad you called!” Maddy cried, sitting up in her chair and lowering her feet from the porch railing.

“Hey, don’t hold back or anything.” Morgan laughed. “So, is it awful or what?”

Maddy stood and began pacing between the room and the porch, holding the phone in a death grip.

“There was a pig in the driveway when we drove up!”

30

The Other Boy

She yanked the phone away from her ear to dull the shrieks of her friend’s raucous laughter. “Hey, you could be feeling sorry for me, you know,” she said. Morgan chokingly pulled herself together. “I know,”