by Jen Calonita
Izzie froze. She could feel Barbara’s eyes on her. Chloe was Izzie’s mom. “Grams, it’s me,” she said quietly. “Your granddaughter, Isabelle.”
Grams obviously didn’t hear her. “Chloe, it’s drafty in here. Can you go get my shawl?”
Grams’s shawl was already around her shoulders. “Okay, Grams,” Izzie said, and pretended to put the shawl on her. She blinked rapidly to hold back tears. She was not going to let Barbara see her cry.
“Izzie, she knew what was happening to her,” Barbara said softly. “She was so happy when she found family for you. She wanted to make sure you had what you needed in life.”
“I need her,” Izzie said desperately, pleading with Barbara now. “If you just give us some time, I’m sure this new medicine will kick in and Grams will be back to her old self and…”
The doorbell rang. Barbara didn’t flinch, but Izzie did. She looked out the dining room window and saw a white van that had Coastal Assisted Living Center on it. A man and a woman with ID tags around their necks walked up the path. Izzie’s heart started to beat rapidly again.
“The nursing home is here to help gather some of your grandmother’s things for her move,” Barbara said quietly. “The rest you can sort through before the house is sold, and the lawyer your grandmother hired will help with the house and the furnishings and…”
“Wait, this is happening tonight?” Izzie felt as if a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around her heart. The tears started to come even though she willed them not to.
“They’ll take Grams and settle her in, and I’ll go with you to your uncle’s,” Barbara explained. “You can have half an hour to pack, and anything else you need, I’ll send later.”
Izzie had lived here for her whole life and she had half an hour to put her world in a duffel bag and say good-bye? No. This was wrong! The room felt like it was spinning. Her thoughts came fast and furious. Mimi was expecting her to teach her freestyle tomorrow morning…. She had a lifeguard shift from one to five…. Brayden had promised to give her another surfing lesson…. Then there was the swim meet on Saturday. How could she just disappear without saying good-bye?
“I can’t go tonight,” Izzie insisted. “I made plans for tomorrow already.”
“We’ll let everyone know,” Barbara said kindly, and handed her a large black duffel bag that had been hanging in the hallway closet. Izzie had no clue how Barbara knew it was there. “It’s going to be okay, Izzie. I promise.”
Izzie wasn’t so sure of that. In fact, she wasn’t sure anything in her life would be okay again.
Three
The air at the Emerald Cove Country Club pool was so oppressively hot and sticky that Mirabelle Monroe started to worry she was going to wind up looking like a broiled lobster. “I’m caving!” she announced as a sweat bead rolled down her forehead and landed on the tip of her nose. “I don’t want skin cancer! I’m putting on SPF 50!” Mira reached under her lounge chair for the canvas tote that held her sun-block, but a slim, tanned hand swatted hers away.
“Mirabelle!” Savannah Ingram surprised Mira by using her full name. She stared at Mira stonily, looking like one of those überserious cops on those police shows Mira’s dad was obsessed with. “We swore we’d have a deep bronze by the time school starts, and sunblock will ruin everything.” Savannah snatched Mira’s tote away and placed it safely on the other side of her lounge chair. “If you put any more sunblock on those pale legs of yours, people are going to mistake you for an alpaca.”
Mira sat up carefully, covering her chest to keep her favorite green bikini top from sliding off and giving the entire Emerald Cove Country Club a peep show. “An alpaca?” she deadpanned, then started to giggle.
Savannah’s long pale blond hair was scattered over the top of the lounge chair like a crown. She sat back up and started to laugh, too. “So maybe I was up late last night and caught a teensy bit of an alpaca farm infomercial.” She stopped laughing and looked at Mira. “Tell anyone and die.”
Mira pretended to zip her lips. She threw her long, definitely not pasty legs over the side of the chair, leaned over Savannah, and snatched her bag. Savannah scowled at her. “There’s more to proving you had a good summer than just looking tan,” Mira said, and squirted a huge glob of white cream on her right thigh. Savannah made a skeptical grunt as Mira continued talking. “Okay, so I didn’t spend my summer in Paris like you, but we did vacation in Costa Rica for two weeks, and I saw ninety percent of North Carolina doing campaign stuff with Dad. Most important, Taylor and I are better than ever.” That was the truth. With half the football team at their summer homes in Maine or the Florida Keys, Mira had had her boyfriend all to herself, and it had been bliss. The football team as a whole could be suffocating. They practically shared jockstraps.
Savannah examined one of her pale pink nails. “I guess you didn’t totally waste eight weeks off.” She smiled at Mira. “Now next summer, that will be pure frosting. Once your dad goes from state senator to a U.S. Senate seat, we’ll be jetting to Washington for private movie screenings with the president’s daughters.” She stared dreamily at the sun at the thought of it.
“If my dad wins a seat in the U.S. Senate,” Mira corrected her. Her attention turned to a puddle of water near their lounge chairs. The sun dipped behind a welcome cloud, and the shadow in a puddle near their lounge chairs caught Mira’s eye. It reminded her of a galloping horse. “He hasn’t even run yet,” she said absentmindedly.
“He’ll win,” Savannah said, and sipped her iced tea. “My dad will make sure of that. He’s going to throw lots of green at your dad’s campaign once it becomes official.” She raised one eyebrow thoughtfully. “Even if you do look like an alpaca.” Mira threw her towel at Savannah, who ducked. Her eyes locked on someone across the pool.
Mira didn’t have to look hard to see who Savannah was staring at. Her best friend’s mouth curved into a small smile as she watched a pudgy girl at the snack bar. The girl was wearing an unforgiving tankini that bulged around her middle. She stood awkwardly with a friend and drank a milk shake. Mira’s mouth watered at the sight of it.
“Kristen Thompson should not be allowed near dairy.” Savannah’s Southern twang dripped with disdain. “Look at what it’s done to her thighs this summer!” Almost as if Kristen could hear her, she looked up and stared at Savannah and Mira. She gave an awkward wave. “Hi, Kristen!” Savannah yelled across the crowded pool. “Cute suit!” Then through a forced smile, she added quietly, “That girl should have to wear a muumuu at the club. She’s a total eyesore.”
Kristen wasn’t a fool. “Thanks!” she yelled back, even as she pulled helplessly at the bottom of her tankini, hoping that would give her more coverage. It didn’t.
Even after being friends with Savannah for three years, Mira still felt uncomfortable when she went on a bashing bender. If you were one of the lucky few to be part of Savannah’s inner circle, she treated you like royalty. But if you were on Savannah’s “not” list, Emerald Prep’s unofficial Queen Bee could be more cutting than a switchblade. Kristen’s downfall had been questioning Savannah’s world history oral presentation in front of the entire class. Savannah hadn’t forgotten. Ninety percent of Emerald Prep worshipped Savannah and yet 87 percent of them never got a second glance unless they were being made fun of.
Before Mira could comment, a huge pair of arms wrapped around her waist, practically lifting her off the lounge chair. “Taylor!” Mira’s voice was high. “You’re soaked!”
Taylor Covington clung tighter as he kissed her neck. “Of course I am. I just swam twenty-five laps. Did you see my impressive arm strokes?” He showed his bulging biceps to all within range.
It was hard to miss Taylor even when his arms were covered. He was almost six foot four and had that California boy look that said he should be catching a wave rather than taking an English lit exam. He had layered blond hair and pale blue eyes the color of Mira’s screensaver on her Mac, and he looked good in both a swimsuit and
a tux. Mira’s brother Hayden called Taylor “Ken.” He really was Barbie’s perfect boyfriend come to life. And to the envy of most of the girls in their school, he was all hers.
Mira grabbed Taylor’s bicep and squeezed. “Nice. You looked great out there, babe.” She hadn’t seen him doing laps, but he didn’t have to know that. Taylor’s shadow had changed the reflection in the puddle again. Mira thought it looked like a small dog. Or maybe it was more like a cat.
Taylor’s blue eyes brightened. “Thanks, babe.” He leaned down and kissed her softly.
“Get a room.” Savannah rolled her eyes and lay back down on her lounge chair, spreading her hair carefully all around her.
Taylor smirked. “If your man were here, you’d be all about the PDA. When is he going to be done with that boathouse, anyway?”
“Who knows? Why he has to help build it is beyond me. That’s what contractors are for.” She looked at the Movado on her wrist. “I’ve texted him four times to find out when he’s getting up here. It’s three PM and he hasn’t replied once.”
“It’s three?” Taylor jumped up. “I have to hit the showers and be at practice at four.” He grabbed a towel from a passing pool worker carrying a large stack. “You’re stopping by, right?” he asked Mira. “We’re going to run some drills. Then the team is going to Corky’s for dinner.” He rubbed her bare shoulders. “Maybe you and I can get ice cream alone after.”
It’s football season again. Mira sighed. She adored her boyfriend, but he tended to be needy during football season—and by needy, she meant needing to see his teammates twenty-four-seven, with Mira glued to his side. They did what Taylor wanted, when he wanted, and sometimes Mira felt more like a glorified cheerleader than a girlfriend. Maybe it would be different this fall. Taylor did just suggest they do something alone, didn’t he? Mira stared at the puddle again. This time the reflection reminded her of a gorgeous peony. She really wished she could sketch this.
Then Taylor’s shadow blocked the reflection and just like that, the picture was gone. “So I’ll see you later?” he asked again, still waiting for an answer.
Mira nodded. “Yes. Sorry. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“You would if you had plans with me,” Savannah said once Taylor had walked away. “You don’t really want to sit on the bleachers and watch them practice, do you? Wouldn’t you rather be in the cool, air-conditioned mall, school-clothes shopping with me?”
Mira thought for a moment. “That does sound more appealing, but Taylor would kill me. He already thinks I hate the entire football team.”
“Please. Just because you don’t want to date them along with your boyfriend doesn’t mean you hate them.” Savannah finished her iced tea. “Where is a waiter when you need one? We have to get to the mall!”
“I didn’t say yes yet,” Mira said with mock indignation.
Savannah shook her empty glass, the ice clinking loudly, and smiled. “As if you were really going to say no to me.”
Savannah may have been the most popular girl at Emerald Prep, but when it came to fashion, she was still a bit lacking. That’s where Mira came in. The two clicked during seventh grade right around the time Mira’s dad won his state senate seat and Savannah’s personal shopper moved to New York. Mira became Savannah’s new stylist, and Savannah gave Mira the runner-up spot in her clique. Sometimes Mira still couldn’t believe she was now one of the most popular girls at school.
Savannah waved madly at a waiter across the pool. “I thought we’d start at Nordstrom, and then if we don’t like anything, we can move on to Anthropologie and…”
Mira’s phone went off in her bag. Cell phones weren’t allowed on club grounds, not that anyone she knew actually abided by the rule.
LUCAS’S CELL: Clear your schedules ASAP. Your dad has called an emergency family meeting at Buona Terra restaurant at 5:30 PM sharp. Everyone must attend. Call if you need me to send a ride.
Mira pushed her hair behind her ears. “Scratch the mall plans and football practice,” she said mournfully, and gathered her things. When Lucas Hale sent a text, Mira moved quickly. Her dad had his campaign manager get in touch only if something major was going on. Otherwise, Mira’s mom was the one who broke bad news—like Dad missing a field hockey game, or having to skip Harborfest because the whole family was needed in Washington, D.C., for a UNICEF event. “My dad is calling some emergency powwow.” She frowned, pursing her lips. “I wonder what’s going on this time. Do you think Hurricane Harold is actually going to make landfall? I thought they said it was going out to sea.”
“I’m going to become a category five gale if I don’t get to the mall today!” Savannah griped. Her hot-pink bikini straps fell off her shoulders when she shot up. “Geez, what is with your dad and family meetings? Can’t he just call or text when he needs to tell you something, like a normal dad? I haven’t actually laid eyes on my father since last week.”
“Sorry, Vanna, I have to go.” Mira tossed the latest Us Weekly, her phone, and her sunblock in her bag. “You know how he gets if we’re late. He’ll send his goon to find me.”
“I think Lucas is kind of sexy,” Savannah said, momentarily forgetting what she was annoyed about. “In a buttoned-up, anal kind of way.”
Mira gave her a look. “He’s almost thirty. And you have a boyfriend.”
Savannah shrugged. “I’m allowed to look.”
“Gross.” Mira stifled a laugh. “I promise we’ll hit the mall tomorrow, okay? I’ll even get my mom to give me her platinum card. We can eat lunch at that sushi place you like.”
Savannah grinned. “Now you’re talking.” She put her iPod buds in, closed her eyes, and lay back down, which was exactly what Mira wished she could do. She could think of a zillion things she’d rather be doing than spending one of her last days of freedom in the company of Lucas Hale.
An hour later, Mira waited in the club’s circular driveway. Her long, curly brown hair was damp and she’d only had time to apply lip gloss and eyeliner. At least she got a chance to shower and put on a cute pink strapless dress. She kept a few sundresses in her family’s club locker for just this sort of emergency. Lucas was all about the family image, and he would have freaked if Mira showed up at a restaurant in a beach cover-up.
“Sorry to pull you away from your tanning time,” her older brother, Hayden, teased as he pulled up in a red Audi convertible. Just seeing Hayden behind the wheel of the car made Mira envious. She was fifteen, but her parents wouldn’t let her get a learner’s permit till she turned sixteen. Hopefully, by that time, her dad would let her have the Audi and buy Hayden something new. “I’m sure Savannah was kicking and screaming about you having to leave,” Hayden added.
“You stalk my Facebook page, don’t you?” Mira joked as she slid into the front seat.
“Yes,” he said solemnly, and adjusted the collar of his white polo shirt, which showed off his tan. “I get a printout of your conversations and your day’s activities every morning at the office.”
She hit him in the arm. Her brother was so charming and good-looking, she couldn’t believe he hadn’t been scooped up yet. Every girl she knew had a crush on him (or Taylor), but Hayden was too focused on cross-country and working with their dad to notice. While Mira looked like their dad, Hayden and their younger brother, Connor, who was six, had their mom to thank for their good looks. Hayden inherited her pale blond hair, chiseled heart-shaped face, and her green eyes. With looks like that, it would be easy for Hayden to be vain, but he was the most down-to-earth guy Mira knew.
“Sorry you had to leave work early—and I mean that, since you probably hated to leave,” Mira said wryly. “I thought Mom would give me a ride. She usually is here on Tuesdays.” Tuesday was her mom’s tennis day. It said so on the family’s huge calendar in the kitchen. “But then I texted her and she said to catch a ride with you because she had an ‘appointment.’ ” Mira made air quotes after the word and smirked. “Maybe she finally went with the trend and got Botox?” she asked wi
th a head tilt.
Hayden gave her a sharp look. “Nice. You’re just lucky cross-country practice was this morning. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to pick you up, either. And Mom, by the way, is already with Dad. They were together all morning, actually. Lucas said they had to attend to some personal matters.” His eyebrows rose slightly. “Of course, he wouldn’t say what those were.”
“Of course not.” Mira sighed. Getting an answer out of Lucas was like trying to break into Fort Knox. “You haven’t heard anything?” He shook his head. Mira put on her oversize black sunglasses and leaned her head against the seat. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Top up or down?” Hayden asked before he put the car into drive. He didn’t give Mira time to answer. “I’m guessing top up. You probably don’t want to mess up your hair.”
She grinned mischievously as she felt her still-wet hair.
“I’m going to shock you and say—top down!”
“Whoa! New school year, new Mira Monroe.” Hayden smiled. “What’s next? Sneakers outside the gym?”
Mira shook her head. “Never.” What was the point of wearing sneakers if you weren’t a jogger? Mira didn’t get it. She did, however, understand what her dad’s tightly wound campaign manager would say if she showed up at dinner, in a public setting, with a wet head. She shook out her curls and prayed a ten-minute drive with the top down would do the trick.
Four
As they pulled up to the restaurant, Mira’s hair was still damp, and a less-than-appealing frizz had taken over. That’s what Lucas Hale got for giving her no time to get ready for a family powwow.
Mira had no clue what could be so urgent—a state budget crisis? Another oil spill? Hurricane Harold making land-fall? Lucas could find a way to turn any disaster into a Bill Monroe campaign opportunity, and usually the family was dragged along for the ride. Lucas was their dad’s unofficial campaign manager for his unannounced senatorial run, and he totally gave Mira the creeps. He kept their dad on such a tight leash that she rarely saw him unless she was scheduled in on his iCalendar or an emergency came up (like today) that usually required their dad to leave town ASAP for both crisis meetings and TV opportunities (“Good morning, America! Bill Monroe has something to say about North Carolina’s dwindling peach crop this year….”). The guy was like her dad’s own personal BlackBerry, whispering talking points in his ear, calling him at all times of day and night to talk about the campaign and to give advice. That advice extended to Mira’s and her brothers’ after-school activities and wardrobe as well. Lucas made sure every decision the family made gave the Monroe name more bang for its buck come election time. Mira hated all of it.