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Something changed in Savannah. Her posture became stiff and her face rigid with hate so potent it almost stung to look at. “You have no right, no right to talk about Grandma Ivy.”
I stuck out my chin. “She was my Grandma, too.”
“Yeah, and we all know you were her favorite. No need to rub it in.”
Her reply made no sense. Never in my life had I considered myself Grandma Ivy’s favorite grandchild. Heck, Savannah and I both used to spend summers at her house. We’d play on her grand piano, look through her costume jewelry, bake cookies together. Grandma had loved us both equally.
When she’d passed, Grandma had left me a pearl necklace that I kept locked away safe under my bed at home. Sometimes, I would take it out and hold it, remembering those times. Wondering where it all went wrong.
Savannah’s brown eyes still threw daggers my way, but she retreated a step and hung her costume back on the rack. “I’m bored of this little interaction. Have fun picking out your hideous costumes.”
She stormed off, cutting a striking figure through the crowd of young kids gushing over their costume selections near the cash registers. I let out a huge breath of air, feeling at once relieved and confused.
Savannah had never made that kind of accusation before. Part of me wondered if somewhere in there was the root of her hatred toward me. But for the life of me, I couldn’t understand it. Grandma Ivy had passed away years ago. Why was she still holding some kind of twisted grudge?
“If you don’t knock her down a peg or two by the end of the year, I swear I’m going to poke holes in those water push-up bras of hers,” Mandy growled next to me.
Picturing that made me giggle, cutting the last of the tension Savannah had left. Trina joined in the laughter and eventually Mandy did, too. We were all holding our splitting sides. It wasn’t until Trina gasped and picked up a costume from the bottom rack did we finally come to our senses.
“Oooh, look.” She held up a bag. Printed on the front was the image of an alluring woman in a gray bodysuit with striped tights and a black mask. Above the image were the words Sexy Raccoon. “It’s perfect!”
I was pretty sure I’d never given anyone such a disgusted look in life. Mandy and Trina both started laughing again when they caught a look at my face.
“Not even in a million years,” I growled. “Put that thing down.”
“I think I’m going to buy it.” She smiled down at the package. “I’ve got a few alternations in mind. Once I get my hands on it, it’ll look awesome.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Go ahead and waste your money. I won’t be wearing that in this century or the next.”
“We’ll see,” she said in a dreamy voice, walking off toward the next rack of costumes.
Mandy draped her arm over my shoulder and giggled. “Face it, you can’t stop her. She may be deceptively sweet, but she can be just as stubborn as the rest of us.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Trina had her ways of getting what she wanted. She was just better at convincing people it was what they’d wanted in the first place. Especially when she flashed those big, blue doe eyes.
“I’m not worried,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve got enough to worry about with the dinner tomorrow. What if Savannah’s right? What if Collin gets tired of me? I really like making music with him.”
“He won’t. And even if he did, he would be crazy stupid not to want to be your friend.”
Mandy’s words didn’t ease the nerves doing a tap dance in my stomach. As much as I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care, the feeling just wouldn’t go away. I didn’t want to be disposable. I’d experienced enough of that in the past year to last me for a lifetime. If that was how Collin saw me, I had to protect my heart.
It was yet another reason to get this song over with — and as soon as possible.
Chapter Fifteen
My mom was the most embarrassing mom of all time. It was official. She hadn’t allowed me to go over to Collin’s house without a hostess gift. As if a seventeen year old knew what that was. So she’d picked up some designer soap bars, packaged them in a fancy basket on a bed of crimped pieces of colored paper, shoved them in my hand, and driven me over to his foster parents’ home.
I stood on the doorstep of a Victorian style house with rotting eaves and toys littering the lawn, not really wanting to ring the doorbell. Mom couldn’t have been serious about me bringing Gina a basket of soap. If I moved fast enough, I could hide it behind an overgrown bush nearby. But that idea went up in smoke the moment the door sprung open and Gina’s beaming face appeared.
“Audrey!” She swept me up into a hug, nearly upending the basket my mother had put together so carefully. “Welcome to our home.”
“Thanks.” I winced and held out the basket. Time to remove the band-aid. Get it over with. “This is for you. My mom said to tell you these are organic, allergen free, and I think she said they’re edible, too.”
Gina’s eyebrow arched as she took the basket from me and picked up one of the soaps. My face flushed, and I wondered why I hadn’t just stayed home and pretended I’d come down with hepatitis.
“These are lovely,” she said, smiling back up at me. “Thank you. But I think I’ll just have to take your word on the edible bit. Come on in. Collin’s in the kitchen, making dessert. He’s a wiz when it comes to Napoleons. I swear, that kid is the reason I can’t fit into any of my jeans anymore.”
That tiny new tidbit about Collin was surprising. So the guy could throw a ball, play a guitar, and bake decadent desserts? What couldn’t he do?
