Grandma is leaning against her doorframe as I pull up to the tiny house, still looking smug as hell.
“You headed to the airport?” she asks as I climb out of the car and walk to her.
“Yes. Finally.” I can’t believe I just spent over three weeks in my hometown. I deserve a medal. “You’re coming to visit me next time. This town doesn’t get the pleasure of my company ever again.”
She snorts. “That’s fair.” She steps back, letting me step into the air-conditioning. I flop down on her couch.
Grandma goes into the kitchen to make a drink and then slides into a chair at the table with her drink.
“It isn’t everything,” I say quietly.
“What isn’t?”
“The story Ben told on the podcast. It isn’t the whole truth.” I meet her gaze. “I know you know that.”
“I do,” she says softly.
“I’d tell you, but it’s the only thing left I can do for her.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs. “Keeping the secrets. It’s all I can do.”
“Oh, hon, I understand.” She reaches forward, taking one of my hands in hers. “You don’t owe anyone your whole story. Or Savvy’s.”
I nod, swallowing hard.
“Let Ben think he found the truth. He did what we needed him to do. You’re right that some people will never believe you, no matter how hard you explain yourself. Trust me, there’s no pleasing people. If they’re determined to think the worst of you, they will.”
“They think the best of Savvy, so I guess that’s really all I can ask for.”
“Absolutely. Who she actually was, and the secrets you two shared, that’s just for you.”
I scoot forward, wrapping my arms around her. “Thank you for badgering me into coming back and doing this.”
“You’re very welcome. I am happy to badger you into doing the right thing anytime.”
My phone dings, followed up immediately by a second ding. I suppress a sigh as I sit back and glance at the screen. I’ve been getting a strange mix of messages these days—some from people I know, saying they knew I was innocent all along (I never really doubted you, Nathan sent this morning, a text too absurd to warrant a response), and many comments on my Eva Knightley social media accounts, ripping into me for all sorts of things. A substantial portion of the internet hates me more than ever. Some of them acknowledge that I didn’t kill Savvy but still hate me.
It’s an email from a journalist, asking for comment on an article he’s writing about me. Linked is a video that is apparently making the rounds on social media. It’s titled, Lucy Chase: How a Manipulative Psychopath Framed Emmett Chapman.
I shake my head in amusement and delete the email. As usual, Grandma is right.
There really is no pleasing people.
“Did you see Ben before he left yesterday?” she asks.
I nod.
I have a text from Ben on my phone, sitting there unanswered since last night. I still can’t decide if he’s the best or worst idea I ever had.
Can I take you out when you get back to LA? I promise to ask fewer intrusive questions this time.
“Are you two going to see each other when you get back to Los Angeles?”
Savvy appears behind Grandma, casually leaning against the door. The dress from the wedding gone, replaced by jeans and the white tank top I used to see her in so often. A red bra strap peeks out at the shoulder. She grins at me.
“Fuck yeah you are,” she says. I can’t help but laugh, grin back at her, even as Grandma gives me a puzzled look.
I pull out my phone and type a reply to Ben.