"Let's see, how about the blue bedroom. It's close to mine, in case you need something in the night, and it has a lovely view of the back garden." Helen's eyes sparkled. She got such a natural high when she rescued someone from a bad situation, and she did feel so sorry for this poor little thing. She decided to wait a while before she told Jacob about her latest project. "Come upstairs, sweetheart. I'm going to run you a hot bath and bring you something to eat. There's nothing quite so relaxing as soaking in a warm tub, drinking tea, and eating tiny sandwiches and scones. How does that sound?" One arm around Grace's waist, Helen escorted her new charge up the wide, winding staircase.

"It sounds perfect. Thank you. You really don't have to go to so much trouble for me." A few minutes ago she was a homeless, pregnant teenager, and now she was headed up to a warm bath and a cup of hot tea in a house that could hold three of her own.

"It's no trouble at all," Helen insisted, worried that she was enjoying herself too much when this child had just been abandoned by her parents and was facing the most difficult time of her very short life.

"My mom and dad are just really angry. I'm sorry they were so rude to you. They're not usually like that." Apologizing for her mother for the second time that day, Grace was embarra.s.sed at her parents' outburst in front of a virtual stranger, and as hurt as she was, she didn't want this woman to think terrible things about them. No matter what they said or what they did, they were still her parents and she loved them.

Helen was stunned. This precious girl was trying to protect her vicious parents' reputation? b.u.t.ter wouldn't melt in their mouths. As vile as Helen thought they were, she didn't want Grace to worry. "I'm sure that's true, Grace. When people are frustrated, they can behave in unfortunate ways. You shouldn't give it a second thought."

Clean and fed and rested, Grace curled up in an easy chair in the corner of her new bedroom. The blue room was wallpapered and upholstered entirely in blue toile. It was like a room in one of the museum houses at Colonial Williamsburg Grace had visited two summers ago, right down to the mahogany four-poster bed. After lunch in the enormous clawfoot bathtub, Grace had taken a long nap, and now she was waiting for Vera, Mrs. T.'s cook as well as George's wife, to ring the bell signaling that dinner was ready. While she was sleeping someone had unpacked for her, and all her clothes were now neatly stowed away in a ma.s.sive dresser or hung neatly in the cavernous walk-in closet. The bathroom was stocked with every imaginable shampoo, soap, and cream, along with a brand new toothbrush and piles of fluffy white towels. Everything smelled like lavender. It was as if Grace had checked into an incredibly fancy bed and breakfast. She dialed her cell phone. "Hey, it's me."

"Where the h.e.l.l are you?" Jennifer had been convinced that something horrible had happened when Grace failed to respond to texts, phone calls, Facebook messages. "I thought you'd gone and done something stupid." Even though Jennifer couldn't believe that Grace would actually kill herself, desperation could make people crazy enough to do the unthinkable. When Grace had said she wished she would drown in the lake, maybe she hadn't been kidding.

"I'm sorry. I should've called, but it's been a weird day." Grace didn't know where to begin, and she wasn't looking forward to hearing Jennifer's inevitable "I told you so."

"What's up with your parents? When I couldn't get you, I called your house. Your dad just said you'd left, and he didn't know when you would be coming home. What the f.u.c.k does that mean?" Jennifer's voice was shrill with concern.

"My mother took me to some clinic in Ma.s.sachusetts today for an abortion." Had that been just this morning? It seemed like a year since Grace had her feet in the stirrups, felt the cold steel of the speculum. Involuntarily she crossed her legs.

"What?! That's impossible. Your parents? Baby killers?" This was a staggering development - not at all what Jennifer had expected from a couple who always sat in the first pew, right on the center aisle, probably so they could be closer to G.o.d. Recovering from the initial shock, Jennifer said, "Well, anyway, that's probably good news overall. How was it? Did it hurt?"

"I couldn't do it. I've decided to have the baby. When I thought about what I would feel for the rest of my life, wondering if I'd done the right thing, I couldn't live with it. That's when it really went to h.e.l.l. My mother said that my being pregnant would ruin their reputation, and she and my dad couldn't have me in their house anymore." It was embarra.s.sing to say that out loud, basically declaring that her mother and father didn't love her enough, cared about their status more than they cared about her.

"So your parents dread being humiliated in front of their friends at the club more than they fear the wrath of G.o.d. Good to know." Jennifer chuckled. "But they're acting like a.s.sholes, stupid ones at that. Everyone in Silver Lake is going to know you're preggers soon enough, whether or not you're living under their roof. Wherever you keep your toothbrush, you're still their daughter ... where are you, anyway? Do you want me to come get you? We're only an hour away, and spending the weekend with my parents and my sister - eight-year-olds are so annoying - isn't exactly a vacation."

"No, I'm fine. Mrs. Teitelbaum, the lady who lives across the street in that huge house, wandered into the middle of my eviction and rescued me. My father had packed all my stuff in garbage bags and put them on the front porch. Maybe he thought I'd take my stuff and leave town." Grace had to smile at the mental image of herself standing next to a freeway on-ramp, surrounded by lawn and leaf bags, thumb out, puking her guts all over the place as she waited for a ride.

"Black garbage bags? He's a cla.s.sy guy, your dad." Jennifer had never particularly liked Grace's parents, had never trusted them - too self-important, too self-righteous. "I can't believe they thought you'd just leave. More likely they thought you'd fold and do what they wanted, but they didn't take into account your crazy neighbor."

"Mrs. Teitelbaum's not crazy. She's the nicest person I've ever met in my life." As Mrs. T. had championed her, Grace would defend her until the end of time.

"And the richest. It's brilliant. Not only did you get rescued in your darkest hour, but you got rescued by a f.u.c.king heiress." Jennifer clicked her tongue.

"Heiress?" It was obvious from Mrs. T.'s house that she was loaded, but an heiress?

"You've never heard of HAT Industries?" Jennifer was incredulous.

"Sure, but so what? I've also heard of Apple and GE and Wellington Industries." Although Grace didn't watch MSNBC, she wasn't totally clueless.

"That's your savior's company, dummy. It's like a billion-dollar corporation. They're into precious metals and stuff, I think. Here, I'll look it up on Google."

"Billion? I had no idea," Grace whispered into the phone. So much for the librarian theory.

"How could you miss that? When she moved in, there was a big article in the paper about the old lady and her move from Park Avenue up to the sticks." Jennifer's dad made her read the paper every day, so she wouldn't be just another ignorant, self-absorbed teenager. Sometimes, not often, it came in handy.

"I didn't see it. She's just a really nice person." The fact that Mrs. T. was exceptionally wealthy didn't really matter to Grace, although she had to admit the house was incredible, and she felt like less of a burden knowing that she wasn't imposing on a little old lady on a fixed income.

Quickly scanning the article, Jennifer reported the highlights. "Here it is. HAT stands for Helen and Abraham Teitelbaum. Abraham was her husband. It says here he died three years ago and left his entire fortune to his wife, Helen. They have no children."

"Stop snooping. It's none of our business." To Grace it felt like they were rifling through Mrs. T.'s desk drawer.

"I'm not snooping. This is all public information, available to everyone on the world wide web." Jennifer laughed. "Maybe she'll adopt you, and you and your love child - well, l.u.s.t child - can live happily ever after on Easy Street."

"You are so out of line, Jennifer. Just shut up." Sometimes Jennifer could be so inappropriate. She thought she was being funny, no matter how many times Grace pointed out to her that she wasn't.

"You're right. I'm sorry, but you have to admit it's bizarre. Right?"

It had been a surreal day, and it wasn't over yet. "I guess so," Grace answered.

"You guess so?" Jennifer squealed. "The G.o.d Squad pushing for an abortion. The rich old widow rescuing you out of the garbage. Tell me when the s.p.a.ceship lands. I'll rush right over - I could go for a probing."

Grace was startled by a knock at the door. She whispered, "I've got to go. I'll call you later." In a normal voice, she called, "Come in."

The door opened, revealing not Mrs. Teitelbaum, or George, or Vera, or the housekeeper, Ada, but a boy, a really cute boy, who looked about her age. Was this the cabana boy? she wondered. Or did Mrs. T. make it a habit of taking in troubled teens? Although nothing about this guy looked troubled. Straight out of a Brooks Brothers catalog, he had it all under control, right down to his cornflower blue polo shirt that perfectly matched his eyes. In spite of her vow never to look at a guy again, her heart skipped a beat.

"Hi, Grace? I'm Charlie Gla.s.s, Helen's great-nephew."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you," Grace said as she slowly stood up, trying not to look as clumsy as she felt, and approached Charlie, who still waited in the doorway. "I didn't know Mrs. T. had a nephew." Jennifer's Internet research had not mentioned the rest of the family.

"Yeah, my grandfather is Uncle Abe's brother." This girl was way too cute, and young, to be in the kind of trouble Helen had described. If he had to guess, he would have pegged her for thirteen at most. She looked like she should be standing outside the ShopRite selling Samoas and Thin Mints for her Girl Scout troop, not deciding whether to have an abortion or give up her child for adoption.

"Who?" Grace asked, feigning ignorance. She didn't want to look like a busybody.

"Uncle Abe was Aunt Helen's husband. He died three years ago, right before Aunt Helen moved here. She used to live in New York City, but after Uncle Abe pa.s.sed away she said it was too sad to walk around Manhattan without him, so she moved up here." His smile was at least as beautiful as Nick's. Grace definitely had a thing for teeth. "Come on, why are we standing here? Let's go outside, if you're not too tired. It's a beautiful evening, and after the day Aunt Helen said you had, I think you could use a little fresh air."

Charlie led the way down the back staircase and into the kitchen. The aroma of roasting chicken and fresh rosemary flooded Grace's nostrils, and her stomach growled. "Hi, Vera," said Charlie. "Grace and I are going to go out back for a little while. Dinner smells incredible."

"h.e.l.lo, Grace, I'm Vera. I hope chicken's okay. Let me know if there's anything special you like to eat, or anything you can't or won't eat." As friendly as her husband, Vera smiled as she whipped egg whites in a shiny copper bowl.

"It's nice to meet you, and I like everything," said Grace quietly.

Vera nodded. "Would you like a snack now? Dinner won't be ready for a little while, and I remember when I was expecting, I was always starving."

Grace nodded shyly, covering her stomach, as if she could hide the bean. Expecting. Cheeks reddening at the word, Grace looked at her feet. For the next seven months, everyone who looked at her would know she was one of those girls who had done the deed and gotten knocked up before she was even out of high school. It was going to be hard to face all those curious, judgmental stares. Vera had been nothing but kind, and Grace was still mortified.

Turning to a cooling rack on one of the white marble counters in a kitchen straight out of a nineteenth-century English novel, Vera picked up two m.u.f.fins and handed them to Grace and Charlie. "Fresh out of the oven. Banana nut. You're not allergic to walnuts, are you?"

"No, no allergies. These smell wonderful." Grace gratefully took a bite, savoring the sweetness. If this was a sample of Vera's cooking, Grace feared she would eat everything in sight as long as she was staying in this house. She had no idea how much weight you were allowed to gain during pregnancy.

Outside, Grace and Charlie wandered across the gra.s.s and sat down on a glider swing under an arbor covered with grape vines. Suddenly Grace didn't know what to say to this handsome boy, with whom, under any other circ.u.mstances, she would have flirted madly.

"So, when are you due?" Charlie asked.

From her hairline down to her toes, Grace felt a surge of heat. "The beginning of April."

"I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But you shouldn't be embarra.s.sed. Not in front of me. I mean, s.h.i.t happens. I don't judge." Charlie's face turned pink as well. The last thing he wanted to do was make this girl uncomfortable. Her parents were already acting like she'd serviced the entire football team on the fifty-yard line during halftime.

"No, it's fine. I'd better get over it. It's only going to get worse." Grace placed her hand on her stomach, which still gave no clue as to what was going on inside. "I got myself into trouble messing around in some guy's car, and now I have to live with the consequences. I'm stupid and s.l.u.tty, and everybody's going to know it."

As trite and old-fashioned as that sounded, that was the truth, even in a supposedly liberal, modern society. What made it even worse was that Nick wouldn't suffer for a moment because of this - if anyone did find out he was the father, it would probably only enhance his reputation as a stud. Grace covered her face with her hands. Because of this perennial double standard, it felt odd talking to a guy about stuff like this. But perhaps because Charlie was a stranger, it was slightly less humiliating. Like talking to a therapist.

"Don't talk like that. You think you're the only girl in high school who ever did it in the back of a car with your boyfriend? I don't think so." Charlie shuddered internally.

Not that he was an expert. When he was living in Paris, he had been with exactly one girl exactly twelve times, and every time they'd done it he'd felt like he was doing something dishonest, because he knew he didn't love her, and as hurting as he knew it was, he had no idea how to separate s.e.x from love, even though he had tried his best, all twelve times. If the girl had gotten pregnant, Charlie couldn't begin to imagine how he would have dealt with it.

"He wasn't my boyfriend. It was only our third date. That's pretty slimy, by anybody's standards," Grace whispered, certain that this admission would forever tarnish her image with Charlie. Not that he probably thought much of her anyway. But this would definitely be the nail in the coffin.

Getting naked on the third date was a little soon, although for a guy such a pace would earn high-fives, not scarlet letters. Determined not to pa.s.s judgment, Charlie tried not to show his surprise. Even if she'd done it on the first date, there was something about this girl that was so uns.l.u.tty. "You did something you regret doing, and you got really unlucky. Are you going to punish yourself for the rest of your life?"

"I think maybe I am. I deserve it for being a moron, if nothing else."

For the most part, she had liked who she was before, except for the geeky aspects. And in the rearview mirror, she really wasn't that much of a nerd - she only owned one calculator, had only seen Star Wars twice, and she'd never even been to a sci-fi convention. In retrospect, she wondered why she had felt so lost during junior year. Jennifer was right - if only she had talked it out with someone.

"You shouldn't do that to yourself. It's not healthy, and it's not true," Charlie said.

"But I deserve to feel bad for losing my virginity to a guy I hardly knew. In my heart I knew he didn't really even like me. That's beyond pitiful, isn't it?"

"You really only did it once?" What were the odds of that? Charlie wondered.

Grace nodded miserably.

"He didn't use a ... ?"

"He did, but it's not a hundred percent effective, which is a statistic that I, the math whiz, should have been aware of." Grace couldn't believe she was having a conversation about condoms and s.e.x with a boy she'd just met, and she wasn't stuttering or sweating.

"By definition, one time means you can't be a s.l.u.t, but I will say you have the worst luck of anyone I've ever met. First time, using a condom, and you still got pregnant."

Charlie shook his head in disbelief. Having lived abroad where people seemed less uptight than in the United States, there was a lot of sleeping around, but he hadn't known anyone who had gotten pregnant, or gotten someone else pregnant. Or maybe they just took care of the problem, and n.o.body ever found out about it. More likely the case.

"That's it in a nutsh.e.l.l, a really s.h.i.tty nutsh.e.l.l."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she successfully held back the waterworks. Having already cried buckets, Grace knew they didn't help - it wasn't like she could weep away the bean. Crying just made her face all ugly and scrunched up, and she didn't need to feel any more unattractive.

"If you feel that way about it, and you're not even in a relationship with this guy, then why don't you just have an abortion? Then no one would ever have to know." Aunt Helen had told him that was what Grace's parents wanted her to do, and her refusal to go through with it was why they had kicked her out.

On one level Grace agreed with Charlie. Sixty or seventy years of self-flagellation were impossible to imagine. "You're right, but if I get an abortion, I feel like the ghost of that baby that never got to be will haunt me for the rest of my life."

"A ghost? You believe in that stuff?"

Did Aunt Helen realize what she was getting herself into when she dragged home this stray? This was one messed-up girl. Charlie could understand why his aunt had scooped her up - her eyes glistened with unshed tears like a little girl who had just realized she was lost in a crowded department store, and as she spoke he was fighting the urge to cradle her in his arms and tell her he would never let anyone hurt her again. But she promised to be a handful. Maybe Aunt Helen should stick to the occasional dog or cat.

"Not chain-rattling, white-sheet haunting. Someday, I hope I get married and have a family, you know, do it in the right order with the right person. If I have an abortion, when I eventually have a baby because I want to, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop thinking about this one. There's no way to undo that. If I have it and give it up for adoption, I'll have plenty of issues, especially in the short term, but in the long term I know I'll feel better about it. I may end up regretting a lot of things, but at least I won't be asking what if for my whole life. Does that make

any sense?"

This was heavy stuff to talk about with a complete stranger, who was her age and really kind of hot in a prep school sort of way. But he'd asked, and each time she explained herself, Grace felt marginally more confident that her decision to go through with the pregnancy was the right one for her, in spite of the domestic conflagration she had created by defying her parents.

"Actually, that makes a lot of sense. It would be so easy to get trapped in this moment, only thinking about how you feel today, but you're right, you've got a lot of years ahead of you. I'm sure you'll meet the right guy and have the family you deserve someday, with no regrets."

"It's hard to imagine that happening to me, falling in love, having someone fall in love with me. But I have to make myself think that way, or else I'll lose my mind." She shook her head. "Let's not talk about my mess anymore. You know pretty much everything about me. I want to know about you. Do you visit your aunt often? I've never seen you here."

Grace would have remembered such a good-looking boy wandering around the neighborhood. Tall, with dark wavy hair and startlingly blue eyes, Charlie reminded Grace of a character from a Jane Austen novel, and like his aunt he spoke with the slightest accent, as if he had lived abroad for most of his life. It was a dazzling combination.

"I've only been here a couple of times since Aunt Helen moved out from the City. My father works for Macro Financial. They have offices all over the world, so we've had to move around a lot. Until June we were living in Paris, but then my dad got sent to Moscow to work on some special project for a year."

"You've been to Russia?" Grace's most exotic destination up to this point had been Toronto.

"I spent the summer there, but I didn't want to spend my last year of high school in Moscow, so Aunt Helen offered to look after me."

"Don't they have an American School there?" It felt good to think about somebody else for a change. For a few minutes Grace could almost forget what had happened, how she came to be sitting on this swing with this guy in the first place.

"They do. I've been to the American Schools in Paris, Florence, and Berlin. They're fine, but I was missing home - we haven't lived in the States since I was twelve. It seemed like a perfect opportunity, with Aunt Helen being on her own. And she isn't getting any younger. It'll be good for both of us."

Charlie looked back at the house and smiled. He thought but didn't say that Grace's presence was proving to be a pleasant diversion. If only she weren't pregnant with some guy's baby - but if she weren't, then she wouldn't be here, so maybe it was meant to be. Beshert, as Aunt Helen would say - fate, but with a twist.

"Your life sounds incredible. I, on the other hand, am a total hick." Unsophisticated, provincial, and pregnant - quite the prize package. All that was missing were bare feet, a couple of tattoos, and a trailer park, Grace imagined Charlie must be thinking.

"Well I think you're very nice ... for a hick."

"That's the sweetest thing I've heard from a boy in a long time. It really is." Grateful that Charlie was making the effort to flirt with her a little bit, to make her feel like a girl rather than a science experiment, Grace started to relax.

The sound of a bell interrupted them. "That means dinner's ready. Shall we?" Charlie held out his arm and Grace tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. This guy was an old-fashioned gentleman, easy on the eyes and genuinely kind. Where were you a few months ago? Grace thought sadly. If he had appeared on the scene a little earlier, maybe her life would be completely different right now. But perhaps this was some weird destiny thing, and she just needed to wait for her future to play out in whatever strange way it needed to. For a second, Grace could imagine a decent life after the bean.

Candles provided the only light in a dining room that could easily seat twenty. Two huge silver candelabra sat on the mahogany table, flanking a large blue and white porcelain bowl overflowing with fresh fruit. Sterling flatware and crystal goblets sparkled in the flickering candlelight. It was an oil painting come to life, thought Grace as she and Charlie sat down opposite each other near the end of the table. Helen was already sitting at the head, sipping a gla.s.s of wine.

"First, let me apologize for this whole state dinner setup. Vera wanted to make it special tonight to welcome you to our home," Helen said. "But perhaps it's a bit much."

"It's the most beautiful room I've ever seen. She shouldn't have gone to so much trouble for me." Grace was already worried about becoming a burden. She had no idea how she would ever be able to repay Mrs. Teitelbaum for all her kindness.

"Don't worry - Vera loves to do this. She gets bored doing supper in the kitchen every night. But I probably should have brought you dinner in your room - you've had a long day." Helen squeezed Grace's hand.

"No, this is wonderful. Please don't apologize. I don't know how to thank you for everything. I'm sure my parents will get over this pretty soon, and then I can get out of your hair," said Grace, needing to believe that her parents were just having the forty-something equivalent of a temper tantrum. In a day or two they would come to their senses, would realize they had overreacted, would realize how much they missed her ... she hoped.

Charlie spoke up. "Until they recover, you should enjoy it here. Staying with Aunt Helen is like taking a vacation at a five-star resort - incredible food, heated swimming pool, there's even a putting green behind the apple orchard."

"Exactly," said Helen. "Think of this as a mini holiday, except for the fact that the two of you have to go back to school on Tuesday."

"Thanks for the buzzkill, Aunt Helen. Are you trying to ruin the weekend?" Charlie laughed, as he poured more wine for Helen and some for himself.

"Sorry, children. You're right. Let's talk about something more festive. Charlie, why don't you tell us about things in Moscow? Did you go to the Hermitage?"