《gossip girl 10 英文》

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gossip girl 10 英文- 第2部分


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mansion。 Vanessa stepped anxiously out of the car; feeling the foreign crunch of the seashells 
under her feet。 The sky overhead was turning a dusky sunset pink; and the air smelled like a far…off 
barbecue and freshly mown grass。 She felt a sudden wave of relief?maybe getting out of the city 
really was just what she needed。 

Ms。 Morgan stepped ahead of her; pushing the heavy antiquered front door open。 The boys 
scrambled inside; jostling Vanessa; who was smiling goofily at nothing in particular。 Not that 
Vanessa cared about these things; or usually even noticed; but she couldn?t help but gape at; well; 


all of it。 The double…height windows framing the front entryway。 The preppy blue…and…white 
nautical…striped bins filled with beach supplies just inside the front door。 The massive living room 
spilling out in front of her。 The inviting turquoise pool just beyond it。 It was all so unlike her?but 
then again; every…thing that was like her had totally sucked lately。 Maybe she should embrace the 
easy; sunny life that was right here; right in front of her? Maybe all that dark thinking wasn?t 
helping anything? 

Vanessa followed the boys into the massive kitchen; where Ms。 Morgan was checking the notes 
the maid; gardener; and pool boy had left behind。 Everything was so 。 。 。 taken care of。 Vanessa 
could just see the hot summer days ahead of her: ReadingThe New Yorker poolside; occasionally 
stopping to photograph its glistening surface in black and white。 She?d trot inside and fix herself a 
smoked gouda sandwich from the stocked kitchen; then eat it while wandering the perimeter of the 
well…manicured property; enjoying the peace and quiet。 

Home; sweet home。 

?Mommmmmeeeeee; we?re hunnnnggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry;? Edgar whined; snapping Vanessa out 
of her reverie。 Oh right;them。 

?Vanessa will fix you something。? Ms。 Morgan smiled and patted his head; without bothering to 
glance at her。 

?Right。 Sure。? Vanessa set down her black army…navy duffel bag on the polished blond…wood 
floor and opened the heavy stainless…steel fridge。 Inside were piles of fresh produce; containers of 
orzo salad; and curried salmon filets garnished with yellow currants。 Where were the cold leftover 
chicken nuggets; or at least the PB and J? 

Behind her; Edgar and Nils began a wrestling match in the middle of the floor。 Vanessa usually 
let them do this; hoping they would tire themselves out like the puppies she?d once filmed at the 
Union Square dog run。 She?d been hoping to catch a dogfight or see one of those rat…eating hawks 
the city had released swoop down to pick up a Chihuahua; but had been forced to settle for puggle 
playtime instead。 She figured that eventually the boys would flop onto their backs like the dogs; 
their tongues hanging out to the side; panting。 

?Boys!? Ms。 Morgan barked; and then smoothed her knife…pleated khakis。 Her ivory tank top 
was trimmed with a thick brown satin sash。 Looking at her weirdly taut face and defined 
cheekbones; it was hard to tell if she was thirty…two or fifty…five。 ?You can head upstairs to get 
ready for dinner。? 

She turned back to Vanessa; the wooden heels of her huarache sandal wedges clacking on the 
floor。 ?Vanessa; we?ll be having the salmon filets; and if you could just throw together a little 
fresh salad; maybe a dill…yogurt sauce for the fish? That would be lovely。? 

Wait。 Throw together? What did Vanessa look like; the 。 。 。 the 。。。 


Help?Oh。 Right。 Except she?d never cooked anything but boiled ziti with jarred Ragu in her life。 

?You got it;? Vanessa told her as she started searching for dill in the produce drawer。 Upstairs she 
could hear the boys making explosion noises and then screaming。 She turned around to hold up a 
pile of leafy herbs?was this dill? cilantro? crab…fucking…grass??when she was met with a 
frightening sight。 

Ms。 Morgan?s pale; skinny; dimpled ass。 Oh。 My。 God。 Vanessa quickly swiveled around again。 
Even with the refrigerated air hitting her in the face; she could feel her cheeks burning。 Loudly 
clearing her throat?had Ms。 Morgan just forgotten she was there or what??she turned back; 
holding the herbs directly in front of her face。 

She peeked out from behind the greens only to see her employer; arms akimbo; standing in only 
her wooden huarache sandals; a sheer applered thong; and a lacy black bra。 

?Something wrong?? she asked。 

?Um; no; of course not。? Vanessa began a sudden; uncharacteristic cuticle examination。 Her 
hands sure were rough! But she couldn?t help sneaking a sidelong glance as Ms。 Morgan; 
liberated woman of the twenty…first century; tugged off her bra and let it fall; oh…so…casually; onto 
the arm of a kitchen chair。 

Vanessa willed herself to look her boss in the face。 ?Um; could you excuse me for a second? I?d 
like to put my things in my room。? Shehad to get out of there。 

?Top of the third staircase。? Ms。 Morgan started rooting around in her monogrammed canvas 
boat bag; presumably for something to wear。 

Let?s hope so! 

Vanessa threw her army…navy…store duffel over her shoulder and took the wide wooden staircase 
two steps at a time。 She tried to shake the image of Ms。 Morgan?s thong from her mind。 Who even 
wore thongs; besides overeager thirteen…year…olds who liked them peeking out above their low…rise 
jeans?

 Tres pass?。 

And whatever happened to boundaries? It was as if Vanessa were the family cat; not an actual 
human being。 She needed to be back in the real world; among people who respected her and 
didn?t just act like she was a piece of furniture。 She?d been in the picture…perfect Hamptons for no 
more than fifteen minutes; and she was already ready to leave。 

Arriving at the third set of stairs; Vanessa climbed toward her attic suite。 At least she?d have 


some privacy and maybe even a little luxury up here; right? She reached the top step; and glanced 
around; looking for a door she could shut。 But no; the stairs went straight into the attic…room; 
where the pitched ceiling was so low; she had to duck to step inside。 What。The。 Fuck。 

Taking heaving; pseudocalming breaths; she walked straight down the middle of the hot; stuffy 
room?the only possible route she could take without ducking。 She dropped her bag on the floor 
and tried to push the one small window open。 Stuck。 More than stuck。Painted shut。 Shit; shit; shit。 

Vanessa stripped off her suddenly sweaty faded black T…shirt and unzipped her duffel。 She 
pushed aside her hair trimmers and the yellow…and…black bumble…bee…striped one…piece bathing 
suit that she?d swiped from Jenny?s underwear drawer; looking for her black ribbed cotton tank 
top。 

?Great; you found it。? 

She turned to see Ms。 Morgan; now thankfully wearing a white sundress; standing at the top of 
the attic stairs。 Good; she was dressed。Vanessa; unfortunately; was not。 

This wasn?t quite the hot summer she?d had in mind。 

? 

Air Mail … Par Avion … July 10 

 Hey Dan! 

How?s everything going in the city? I loooooove Prague。 I?ve been spending my afternoons at 
little outdoor caf?s; pretending to sketch but really checking out all the European boys?I mean 
sights! (There?s no harm in looking; right?) So really the only thing I miss is you and Dad。 Please 
write back。 Don?t worry; you don?t have to send a novel; just a few lines。 Knowing you; you?ll 
probably send a haiku。 

 Love you! 

 Jenny 

reading is fundamental 


Taking the rickety Strand steps two at a time; Dan made it from the main floor to the 
basement…level employee lounge in about thirty seconds; by far a personal best。 He?d been pretty 
down ever since last night; when he?d e home from reading the salon member e…mails with 
Greg to find a yellow Post…it note on the refrigerator addressed to both him and Rufus。 It was 
written in Vanessa?s weirdly boyish handwriting:Off to the Hamptons for work。 Will e…mail with 
details。 Left half a turkey sandwich in fridge。 ?V Dan had opened up the fridge to find the 
sandwich with another Post…it stuck to it。 It said simply:Eat me。 He couldn?t believe she was 
just 。 。 。 gone。 

He?d thrown himself into work all day; trying to keep his mind off of her; which had suddenly 
pletely paid off while he was shelving outdated biographies。 The empty feeling inside of him 
had instantly filled with excitement。 And hehad to share。 

Dan shoved the door marked PRIVATE open with his shoulder; crying out at the top of his 
lungs; ?Greg? You in here?? 

Of course it was totally unnecessary to shout; since the room was about the size of an elevator。 
Greg was inside; digging in his cruddy locker。 

?What?s up?? Greg looked a little startled but smiled broadly; pushing his tortoiseshell frames 
back up his long; slender nose。 He slammed the vomit…green locker door shut。 ?What?s going on? 
I?m just knocking off for the day。? 

?You?re never going to believe what I found。? Dan bran…dished a tiny; tattered chocolate brown 
hardback。 ?The second I saw it; I grabbed it off the shelf and ran down here。? Technically; 
employees weren?t supposed to leave the floor when they were on a shift?there wasn?t even an 
only…in…an…emergency clause?bu
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