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old ratty Houston Oilers jersey and cutoffs that she'd brought back from the Amazon. Lydia quickly explained how she'd been busted by the moms and how her closet-raiding days were a thing of the past. As for Esme, this would be her first and last day at Nanny and Me for a while, since she was going with the Goldhagens on a snap vacation to Jamaica the next morning.
    Kiley bumped a hip softly into Esme's as they walked past the grass tennis courts, one of the few such facilities in Los Angeles. “You didn't say exactly who else was going to Jamaica, you know.”
    “In other words, is Jonathan going?” Lydia translated. “She didn't tell me, either.”
    “The answer is no,” Esme said. “Just Steven, Diane, the twins, and me. They're meeting another family down there. The Silversteins or something like that. It's just as well because this morning Jonathan and I—”
    She stopped midsentence, because the twins were gleefully launching themselves into mud puddles that had been left by the tennis court watering system. “Weston!
¡Por favor, no más d'eso!”
    “¿Por qué no?”
Weston asked, hands on nonexistent hips.
“¡Es más diversión que esta actividad estúpida!”
    Esme cracked up.
    “What did she say?” Kiley asked.
    “Why should I stop?” Esme translated. “It's more fun than this stupid thing we're going to do.”
    Kiley laughed. “They're so cute.”
    Esme rolled her eyes. “Not all the time, believe me. Look at Easton.” She pointed—Easton was giving chase to a big lizard, swinging her mini putter at it with malice aforethought. She gave up when the lizard scurried up one of the massive palm trees lining the walkway, but only after whacking the tree a few times for good measure.
    “We used to eat those things in the rain forest,” Lydia recalled. “They're really good if they're fried in fresh lard.”
    Kiley made a face. “Is there anything alive that you didn't eat down there?”
    “People,” Lydia mused. “But I can't speak for the Amas. Most of them have given up cannibalism, of course. But you'll always have your traditionalists.” She looked over at Esme. “So what did you start to say about you and Jonathan?”
    As they headed for the golf course, Esme brought them up to date on her new double-secret-probation status, which included no contact with the Goldhagens' son.
    “They might as well put me in a burka so that nothing shows except my eyes,” Esme complained. “Wouldn't want to tempt the royal prince.”
    Kiley was confused. “Wait, are you mad at Jonathan or something?”
    “No,” Esme mumbled.
    “You say no but there's a yes in your voice,” Kiley insisted.
    Esme sighed and raked her long hair back with her fingers. “He says we can come out in the open and have a ‘real relationship.’”
    “So, that's what you wanted, girl,” Lydia reminded her.
    “How do we do that and at the same time pretend that we're nearly strangers when we're at home?” Esme queried.
    Lydia shook her head. “See, now, I don't believe that's really what's holding you back.”
    Esme dead-eyed Lydia. “Oh, you know me better than I know me, is that it?”
    Lydia stopped and pivoted toward Esme. “Maybe I do at the moment. You want this boy more than I want a no-limit Visa card, but you're afraid to admit how much you want him because it makes you feel all scared and vulnerable. How close to on the money would you call
that
?”
    “Not to mention that you'd have to tell Junior everything,” Kiley added, since she felt certain that Lydia was right.
    Esme held up her palm. “Can we table this conversation? I'm supposed to be working.”
    The look on Esme's face made Kiley hold her tongue. It made her sad, too. It wasn't as if they could discuss it tomorrow, or the next day, or next week sometime, because Kiley would be back in La Crosse, filling out an application to serve deep-dish pepperoni pies at Pizza-Neatsa.
    God, she was going to miss these two girls so much.
    The grounds of