Chapter Nineteen

Granny Mariotti was in the kitchen, standing in front of an enormous copper pot. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine, Granny,” I replied. Everything was not fine. I’d been seconds away from losing control, but at least Thorn seemed to have forgiven me. “Something smells good,” I said. I picked up a big spoon, but she smacked my hand.

“It’s not ready yet.”

“But I’m starving,” I said.

She took out a smaller pot and used a ladle to portion some into it, then took out a glass container and poured it into the pot before stirring it all together. “This one’s yours,” she said.

I couldn’t identify the smell, but something in the beef stew was making me ravenous. I took a small bite, and my tastebuds did a little happy dance. “What did you put in this?” I asked. “It’s delicious.”

“I’ve been experimenting with herbs that are supposed to help with cravings,” Granny said. “Xavier suggested a few things.”

“It’s working,” I said. “All I’m craving is more of this stew.”

I fidgeted a bit, then sat down at the kitchen counter.

“What’s new with you?” Granny asked.

“Vaughn asked me to Homecoming,” I said. “We’re doubling with Skyler and Connor.” Connor had managed to convince Skyler to go with him, but just as friends.

Granny beamed at me. “You’ll need a new dress.”

“I’ll just borrow something of Skyler’s,” I said. I knew we didn’t have the budget for a new outfit.

“Tansy, I can afford to buy you a few new things,” she said. “I know I can’t take the place of your mother—”

“It’s okay, Granny,” I said. “Vanessa would have made a terrible mother.” My grandmother never talked about her. I missed having a mother, even though people said you couldn’t miss what you’d never had. I’d been lucky. I had Granny.

“No, it’s not okay,” she said. She didn’t argue with me about Vanessa, because what could she say? “We’re going shopping, and that’s final. If you’re so worried about the state of my finances, we can hit the outlet mall first.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” I started to say, searching for a way to get out of spending my granny’s hard-earned money. It was frustrating that I had piles of dollars of my own, but I didn’t want to use it for something like a dress. That was Queen Tansy cash, and I was going to use it to do some good for my subjects, whether they wanted me to or not.

“Then it’s settled,” she said. “Drink your tonic. I’ll get my purse.”

“Granny, it’s after eight,” I told her. “It can wait until the weekend.”

“If you insist,” Granny conceded with a wary look my way.

“Thorn, do you and Rose want to come with us?” I asked. I’d offered to be polite, but to my surprise, Thorn said yes, then said good night quickly, as if the fact that she’d voluntarily agreed to go shopping this weekend was shocking and she needed time to recover.

…

On Saturday, we ate breakfast at home before Granny hustled me out the door with a Thermos full of tonic and an extra one in her bag. Thorn had insisted on driving, so she and Rose swung by to pick us up.

We ended up at the outlet mall in San Clemente. I brought my parasol and my hat.

“I’ve never been to a dance before,” Rose said. She stared at a dress with a white fitted bodice embroidered with red roses and a poufy red skirt.

“How old are you two?” I asked the twins, realizing that they might be younger than I thought.

“A year older than you,” Thorn said. She dug into the pocket of her pants and came out with a black card and waved it in front of her sister’s face. “You should buy it.”

“I couldn’t,” Rose said, but she didn’t stop admiring the dress.

“Well, I’m buying something,” Thorn said. She held up a silk jumpsuit in neon green. “This has pockets.”

Thorn scooped up the dress her sister was drooling over. “C’mon, Rose,” she said. “We’re trying these on.”

Granny and I continued to search the racks for me.

“This is nice,” Granny Mariotti said, holding up a lacy ice-blue number.

“It’s cute,” I agreed. “But I’m looking for something with more of a wow factor.”

“What about this one?” She handed me a long black dress with a deep vee in the bodice.

After I tried it on, I returned it to the rack. “No go?” she asked.

“There was a frightening resemblance to the Bride of Frankenstein,” I joked. I took a quick peek on my phone to check the time. “I’m glad you found a place that stayed open late.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Being able to go outside whenever you want,” she said. “Spending all day at the beach. Surfing with Vaughn.”

“I wouldn’t call what I do surfing. More like falling off a board,” I said.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Granny Mariotti pointed out.

“I know,” I said. “Of course I miss it, but it’s not like I have a choice.”

“What if you did?”

I shrugged. “Granny, drop it, okay? It is what it is.”

She touched my arm gently. “We’re working on it.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t want to get my hopes up, okay?”

She studied my face, and I tried not to squirm. “Okay, I’ll drop it. Now let’s find you a dress.”

There were a lot of good dresses, but nothing just right. It was almost closing time when Granny made a triumphant sound. “This dress is the perfect color,” she said. She checked the tag. “And the perfect size.” She held it out to me. It was a purple so dark it was almost black.

“It looks…tight,” I replied.

She thrust it at me. “Try it on.”

I took it into the dressing room. It fit me perfectly and made my green eyes pop. And it was on sale.

I went back out to show Granny, who let out a low whistle.

“I think this is the one,” I said.

She nodded. “You look gorgeous.”

“Is it weird to be worrying about a dance when I have so much going on?” I asked.

“Tansy, you’re seventeen,” she said. “A dance is important, too.”

“Did my mom go to dances when she was in high school?” I tried for a casual tone, but Granny gave me a sharp look.

“You’ve never asked me much about your mom before,” she commented.

“I’ve been wondering lately,” I said. “What she was like before she was turned. Who my father was. Things most kids know.”

“Not everyone,” Granny pointed out.

“I know that,” I said. “And I realize that not everyone is lucky enough to have someone like you.”

“When we get home, I’ll dig out the photo albums,” she promised. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything about your father, but I’ll tell you what your mom was like growing up.”

It wasn’t the same as having a mom, but it would have to do.