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“Come up here. I have something for you before we go.”
“Okay.” Who needed food anyway? I climbed up the steep stairs to find Grandma holding a large cream box with a fancy monogram on it that said M&M’S on Main. I knew of the clothing boutique in Carrington Cove. It was owned by a customer of ours, Shelby Prescott. She and her group of friends had come in to take one of our classes at the studio. And Shelby had hired us to make a stained glass mosaic for one of the picture windows in her home.
“What’s this?” I couldn’t imagine Grandma buying clothes from the fancy boutique.
“It’s an early Christmas present.” She held it out farther.
“What? Aren’t you the one who always complains about people skipping Thanksgiving and going straight to Christmas? Besides, you always make my gifts.” Grandma was a big believer that gifts should be a labor of love.
Grandma did a sweep with her eyes over my attire. “Honey, I don’t know how to say this gently, but you need some help. I bartered some pieces with Shelby for the outfits.”
My jaw dropped. I now knew why Grandma had been in the studio working on a secret project. I thought she was making Christmas gifts for us. But that was beside the point at the moment. “What do you mean, I need help?”
She set the box down on her patchwork quilt bed before patting the mattress, inviting me to sit down.
I stood with my arms folded. “I thought you called me over here to take you to see Dr. Gibbons.”
She coughed enough to make her face turn red. “I am sick,” she said indignantly, “and as soon as you try on these clothes, we’ll be off. But first you need to sit down.”
Like a child, I trudged over and obeyed.
She sat next to me and took my hand with her wrinkled hand that was beginning to show signs of arthritis. Her fingers weren’t as straight as they used to be and the joints were swollen. It panged my heart.
“Honey,” she squeezed my hand, “you are such a beautiful woman.”
I shook my head no. Maybe I was, once.
She wasn’t having it. “You’ve done your best to hide it, but even though you dress like a slob, you can’t hide your gorgeous face and countenance.”
I made to disagree with her, but yeah, slob about covered it. It was embarrassing to hear my grandma say it out loud. Tears pooled in my eyes.
“Oh, don’t start crying, you know I can’t stand to see you cry. And what I have to say is important and I’m going to get through it, even if it hurts you.”
I wanted to curl up in a ball, but Grandma held firm.
“Honey,” she sighed, “you’ve been on the run your entire life. First, because of your mom, and when you did finally come home, you had to run from the damage your mom put you through. Then you had to run from your mom’s ridiculous notions. Worst of all, you’ve been running from who you really are.” She waved a hand over me. “You know I’ve never been one to think that clothes make a woman, but Ariana, this isn’t you. I know you think if you hide behind ill-fitting clothes no one will notice you. But I’m here to tell you, you are noticed. I notice you. And it’s okay if men notice you. And most importantly, you should notice you.”
“I do,” I squeaked.
She patted my cheek. “You notice the person your mom created.” She sighed. “I loved your mom more than anyone, but she put a world of hurt on you. It wasn’t right, and I wish to God every day I had put a stop to it. Ariana, my love, you are so much more than you let yourself be.”
“So, this is what you really think of me?” My voice cracked. Here I thought she was proud of me. After all, she always said it was because of me her business was flourishing.
“No. I think you’re a fighter, but you’ve been picking the wrong battles. You’ve been fighting yourself and your past. You need to let go and move on.”
The tears wouldn’t hold back; they spilt over and poured down my cheeks. “I live a good life,” I defended myself.
“Honey.” She wrapped an arm around me. “I’m not saying you’re a bad person. You are one of the best people I know, but you deserve more and I’m sad you’re not living your best life. Deep down you know that.”
I reluctantly rested my head on her plump shoulder, half offended, half embarrassed. “Did Dani and Kinsley put you up to this?” I wiped away the tears from my cheeks. “Is this an intervention?”
Grandma rubbed my arm. “Call it what you want, kiddo.”
“Clothes and men don’t make you a better person.” I sniffled.
