Page 31 of The Treasure House

“I’m not breaking in.” He was indignant. And in his defense, he didn’t look like a burglar. The guy was in shirtsleeves and a V-neck sweater vest. As he leaned forward into the light she saw he had an oval face and a high forehead, with close-cropped dark hair and thick eyebrows. His lower lip was a lot fuller than his upper lip and Marly could see a silvery scar on his chin. “I’m just visiting,” he insisted. His eyes were pale blue, like shoal water, and they were somehow impish and chagrined all at once.

“You’re visiting by sneaking up a tree?” He didn’t seem dangerous, but you never knew, so Marly kept the book handy.

“Yeah. You wouldn’t understand, you’re just a kid. But it’s meant to be romantic.”

Marly rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me it’s romantic to bust into a girl’s room in the middle of the night? Who did you think you were visiting?” But suddenly, Marly realized exactly who was in the tree outside her window. And Sylvie hadn’t been wrong—he did look a lot like Montgomery Clift.

“Look, sorry I woke you, kid. I think I need the house next door.” He started down.

“Stop! You go climbing into the Staffords’ window and you’re liable to get yourself shot. Mr. Stafford has hunting rifles, you know.”

Montgomery Clift paused.

“You’re here for Priscilla, I presume?” Marly drawled. “Freddie de Marche, right?”

“Well, sure. Who else would be visiting her like this?” His eyes narrowed.

“Priscilla’s in another room.” Marly rested her hands on the windowsill and considered him. “What were you planning to do when you got up here?”

He flushed. “Just say hi.”

“Wow, my aunt will love to hear about this. A grown man creeping into her daughter’s room to just say hi.”

“Now listen, half-pint, there’s no need—”

“I think there’s every need,” Marly disagreed, deciding on the spot she didn’t like him. “My cousin’s a nice girl.”

“She is a nice girl,” Montgomery Clift said, trying to hide his anger behind a placating smile. “She didn’t know I was coming, I promise. I just thought it would be romantic.”

“You think if I scream and everyone comes running, they’ll think it’s romantic?”

“Kid, how about you just get Priscilla, and we’ll clear this up. She’ll vouch for me.”

Marly wasn’t about to get Priscilla. This was the most fun she’d had all day.

Marly considered the guy in front of her. The squirming, the flushing. He was caught off guard. She wondered what she could get out of this.

“What are your intentions toward my cousin?” Marly asked sternly.

“My intentions?” He was close enough that she could see the frown line forming between his eyebrows.

“Yeah. This doesn’t look good for you, you know. It makes you seem like a molester.”

He was outraged at that. “Now, hold it right there!”

“I mean, you didn’t climb a tree to talk politics, did you?”

“I came to see her, not… molest her.”

“You came to see her in her bedroom, in her nightclothes. Seems like you were hoping to see a lot of her.”

“Your mind is in the gutter, kid. How do you even think like this at your age?”

Marly turned the book under her hand so he couldn’t read the spine. “I have brothers.”

“Listen… What’s your name?”

“Marly.”