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every summer off to go home to Cornwall. He went to school in London--hence the (almost) perfect English-- and had arrived just that morning. Philippe was an aspiring tennis pro and hoped to bolster his reputation by winning the Rolex Invitational, which took place in East Hampton each July. Besides babysitting the children, he was going to give them private tennis lessons.
    "And as you can see, he's made himself quite at home," Laurie said, with a hint of disapproval. "Well, here you are," she said, throwing open the door to the tidy cottage.
    Everything was exactly as they remembered it. Even the third step on the rickety stairs still squeaked. Their room was as plain and bare as a prison cell, but they hadn't expected anything more. There were a bunk bed and a small single bed, each with one flat pillow and scratchy wool blankets. Against the opposite wall were
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    two bureaus, a ratty armchair, and a nightstand with a lamp that didn't work that well ever since Eliza had tripped on its wire one night last July. There was one new addition, though: a shiny white intercom/phone, which Laurie explained Anna had had installed so they could get in touch with the au pairs with the push of a button.
    Mara and Jacqui began unpacking, chattering about this exciting new development (the boy, not the phone) as they decided on drawers and beds. "Do you want the top bunk?" Mara asked Jacqui.
    "Sure. Thanks. Where do you think they put the boy?" Jacqui nodded, pulling aside the curtain on the one small attic window.
    Mara shrugged. She hadn't given Philippe a second thought-she was still fixated on the Aston Martin, wondering if Ryan was on the grounds somewhere. Maybe he was in his room, or in the kitchen. Maybe she should do a little scouting. . . .
    Eliza sat on the single bed, feeling a little out of place. She felt nostalgic for last summer, remembering all the wild times they'd shared together in this small space--sneaking smokes out the window and bottles of Grey Goose from the Perrys' liquor cabinet. She and Jeremy had first made out on the very bed she was sitting on. But the feeling ended when she spotted a row of dust bunnies underneath the nightstand and remembered her air-conditioned bedroom back at her family's summer rental.
    "Hey--that's a nice necklace. Ryan has one just like it, doesn't he?" Mara asked, looking up from unpacking and noticing the
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    leather string Eliza was holding between her fingers, lost in thought.
    "Oh!" Eliza's hands flew from her neck. She looked around nervously. "Yeah. It's nothing, just this old thing I picked up."
    "Did you guys hang out in Florida?" Mara asked wistfully. "You and Ryan? How was he?"
    Eliza colored. "Excuse me?"
    "I dunno, what did he look like? Was he with anyone?" Mara asked.
    "Same as always," Eliza shrugged. "He wasn't around much. Anyway, what about that guy by the pool, huh? How lucky are you guys? What a hottie!" she said, to change the subject. She motioned to the two of them to come closer. "I heard French guys have the biggest..."
    Jacqui and Mara giggled.
    Just then, Philippe walked in, smelling of smoke and coconut suntan oil. Jacqui thought nothing smelled sexier. "Bon!" he said, rubbing his palms together. "Ca devrait etre amusant, trois filles et moi!"
    "No way, you're not staying here, are you?" Mara asked, realizing he was saying something about his room. Anna didn't seriously think to put two girls and one very hot guy in the same room, did she? But then, Anna Perry wasn't really one for propriety. Mara was aghast.
    Jacqui shrugged. What was the big deal? Obviously Mara had never backpacked through Europe. She was intrigued.
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    Philippe was staying in the same room with them. How very . . . convenient.
    "Out." Philippe nodded. He rummaged in the top bureau drawer for a shirt and pants and began to peel off his trunks.
    "Hold it! What do you think you're doing?" Mara demanded. She knew she was being a killjoy, but seriously, this was out of line. She didn't