by Lee Matthews
“I was, like, ten,” I said, trying to play it down. But I knew exactly how old I’d been. The accident had happened three days after my tenth birthday. I would never forget it. “No big deal, though. It wasn’t like I was going to go pro or anything.”
“Still, it stinks to have to give up something you’re good at.”
“Like you and basketball?”
“Yeah, but it’s just for a season. I’ll play spring ball for sure,” he said, and I kind of loved how confident he was about it.
“You don’t also want French toast, do you?” I said dubiously.
“What am I, crazy?” He paused. “Obviously I want French toast.”
“Okay, this breakfast might kill you,” I pointed out, slipping a couple of slices onto the top of his now teetering pile of food.
“We haven’t even gotten to the meat and potatoes yet.” He grinned.
“We’re going to need another plate,” I shot back with a laugh.
“Tess! There you are.”
It was Loretta, approaching us with her high heels clicking.
“Oh, hi, Loretta. This is Christopher. He’s a guest at the hotel. Christopher, this is my grandmother Loretta.”
The two of them locked eyes, and something passed between them. It was obvious they’d met, and my grandmother looked almost…nervous? But before I could even figure it out, whatever I’d seen in her expression was gone, and she was back to normal Loretta mode.
“So, Tess. You didn’t tell me last night that your family owns the great Evergreen Lodge empire,” Christopher joked. “Were you just being modest?”
“It didn’t come up.” I looked back and forth between them. “Wait. So you two already know each other?”
“Yes. Yes, we do. I met Christopher and his parents at the front door when he returned from the hospital yesterday.” She clasped her hands together. “I trust your new room is comfortable?”
“Very much so, thank you.”
He plucked a slice of French toast from the top of the carb pile I was holding and took a bite, wobbling a bit on his crutches.
“And are your…parents in attendance this morning?” she asked, her lips tightening ever so slightly.
“Yes, they’re over there getting their food.” Christopher nodded toward his parents, who had reached the front of the line at the omelet station. His mother was talking to the chef while his father barked into his phone. My grandmother’s eyes narrowed at the sight of them.
“Well, good. You enjoy your breakfast, and let us know if there’s anything you need.” Loretta pivoted slightly to look at me. “Now, I have a driver all ready to take us into town to do that shopping we talked about. We’ll meet in the lobby at eleven. Then I thought we’d have lunch at Le Grand Café and take in the new china exhibit at the museum.”
“Chinese artwork?” I asked.
“No. China. As in dishware. It’s supposed to be an extensive collection of pieces from throughout American history. I’ve been so looking forward to going, and now I have you two girls to accompany me!” She smiled and squeezed my arm. “Meet me at the private entrance in twenty minutes.”
“Will do,” I said with a smile. Loretta turned and strode away, greeting guests as she crossed the wide, crowded room. When she reached the omelet station, she exchanged a few words with Christopher’s parents—all business, it seemed—and then checked her watch and hurried off.
“Wow.”
“What?” I said, suddenly exhausted.
“You don’t want to do any of that, do you?”
He had a genuinely curious look on his face. I tilted my head at him. “Do you want me to get you meat or not?”
“Yeah, I do. The question is, what do you want to do?”
I walked to the next station and started selecting food at random. A few slices of bacon, some sausage, some corned-beef hash.
“Okay. To answer your question, no. I don’t want to do any of the things my grandmother has planned.”
“But you’re going to anyway?”
“Yep.”
Christopher motor-boated his lips and looked off in the direction Loretta had disappeared. “Ya know, maybe your new year’s resolution should be to not always do what’s expected of you. You need to live a little.”
God, this was humiliating. We’d had such a good time last night, and now he was going to leave this conversation thinking I was totally lame. “You sound like my sister,” I said.
“Well. Nobody wants that,” he joked.
I moved to the next station, even though both of the plates I was carrying were so full they couldn’t exactly handle any more food. I was feeling antsy suddenly, and irritated. I turned to face Christopher, and he almost collided with me, saving himself by leaning heavily on his crutches.
“Look, she’s my grandmother. She just wants to spend time with me. Is it wrong to do what she wants me to do? Is that so bad?”
“No, but you’re on vacation, right? You should also do some things you want to do,” he said. “And not just when you’re on vacation. It’s fun to be spontaneous once in a while. To, like, prove people wrong. Like you did with your sister last night.”
“How did I prove my sister wrong last night?” I asked.
“You didn’t go off to your room and act like a loner. You hung out with the coolest guy in the whole lodge.” He spread his arms wide with a proud smile on his face—and almost knocked himself over. Some guy passing by with a glass of orange juice had to reach out to steady him. “Thanks, man,” Christopher said, and blushed.
We looked at each other and laughed.
“Anyway, my point is, maybe your new year’s resolution should be to make next year all about you,” Christopher said.
“That sounds selfish,” I said.
He grabbed a croissant from the buffet and pointed it at me. “Or is it genius?”
* * *
• • •
“It’s such a shame we couldn’t find you anything,” Loretta said to me as we walked out of the third and final boutique on Main Street in downtown Evergreen. The second the biting-cold air hit my face, I felt like curling into a ball under a blanket and staying there for days.
“Loretta! Come on. You took her to all the middle-aged lady boutiques,” Lauren said, then tipped her head back to watch her groaned-out breath steam toward the sky. “We need to take her to the cool stores.”
“What stores are the cool stores?” Loretta asked, tugging on her leather glove. She raised one expertly plucked eyebrow in a way that was so enviable, I wanted to stop everything and beg her to teach me the secret.
“What about Tags?” Lauren said, gesturing down the street toward the bottom of the hill. “Or that new place, what’s it called? I saw it last night….” She tapped her leg with one hand as she thought back. “Sweets and Treats?”
“That sounds like a bakery, not a boutique,” I pointed out.
“Exactly,” Loretta scoffed. “And besides, no granddaughter of mine is wearing anything from that store.”
She started walking up the street, her stride purposeful, making it clear that the two of us were expected to just fall in line. Lauren knocked me with her elbow to get my attention, then whispered, “I totally already went into that store.”
I rolled my eyes, but laughed. We followed our grandmother, keeping a good distance so we could talk.
“Why doesn’t she want us to go there?” I whispered.
“I don’t know, because it’s awesome,” Lauren said. “We could definitely find you something cool for New Year’s Eve there. Do you want to ditch her and go?”
“What? No! We can’t just bail,” I said, eyeing Loretta warily.
“I’m not saying we just turn around and walk away,” Lauren said, leaning in, her long hair brushing my shoulder. “But I could fake
sick, and then you could say you have to go home with me to keep me company or something.”
“What if she comes with us?” I asked.
“We’ll insist she go to this stupid dish exhibit. She’s been so looking forward to it.” Lauren grabbed my gloved hands. “Come on! Let’s just do it! Live a little for once! I swear they have really nice stuff there and it’s not all too short or too sexy or whatever. It’s stuff even you’d like!”
I narrowed my eyes. Why did that feel like an insult? I glanced over at Loretta, who had stopped before a crosswalk and was looking at her phone. She didn’t even seem to notice that her granddaughters weren’t right at her sides. Maybe we could do it. Maybe…
“Girls!” Loretta snapped. “Don’t dawdle.”
“Ugh! Dang it,” Lauren blurted out. And we scurried to catch up.
As we crossed the street, a huge banner across the window of the independent bookstore on the other side of Main caught my eye.
MEET POP STAR ADAM MICHEL! DECEMBER 30!
I grabbed my sister’s arm, and she stopped in her tracks. “Oh my God. Oh. My. God!”
She looked where I was looking. “That’s what I was trying to tell you! He’s signing his new book. How crazy is that?”
“Beyond crazy.” My knees were actually shaking. “I could meet Adam Michel. Like, actually talk to him.”
Lauren looked me up and down. “Are you going to pee in your pants?”
I let her go. “Leave me alone. This is the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She shrugged. “Fair.” And we kept walking. Though I actually felt light-headed. Adam Michel was coming here. For real. The Adam Michel. My Adam Michel. I seriously couldn’t believe it.
The American Arts Museum was in the middle of the next block—a big white building with columns and a huge banner advertising Great American China Collections 1765–Present. Just the sight of it took the excitement right out of me. I felt like I was going to fall asleep looking at the banner. Next to me, Lauren began to cough rather convincingly. How did she get so much phlegm into her throat out of nowhere?
“Oh, girls, I’m just so excited you’re finally here. I’ve been looking forward to sharing this exhibit with you for weeks!” Loretta said, opening the door for us. Instantly, I began to rethink the plan. Loretta was just trying to do something fun with us, and she sounded so excited. Her idea of fun pretty much sucked, but still. Her heart was in the right place. Plus the whoosh of warm air from the lobby was welcoming, and the inside of the museum smelled of mulled wine and spices.
Lauren stepped up the hacking. It was like she was auditioning for a role in a cough-drop commercial.
“Lauren, are you all right?” Loretta asked.
“I don’t know.” Lauren shot me a conspiratorial look. “My throat feels tight. I may be coming down with something.”
“No. You’re not. You just need some water.” I grabbed my sister’s arm. “I’ll take her to the bathroom and we’ll be right back.”
I dragged Lauren away toward a sign for the restrooms, where there was also a large, modern, filtered-water fountain one could use for a quick drink or to fill up a water bottle.
“What are you doing?” Lauren asked, wrenching her arm away. “I was this close to getting us out of here.”
“I don’t know. I feel bad for her. She just wants to show us some dishes. How bad could it be? We’ll be here for an hour, tops, and then you can take me to Sweets and whatever.”
“I don’t want to look at dishes!” Lauren protested, sounding very much like the younger sister in this scenario. “I want to go now!”
“Lauren, come on. Let’s just—”
Lauren’s phone beeped, and she checked the screen. “It’s Tarek. He wants me to meet him at Starbucks.”
My heart seized. “Don’t even—”
But Lauren was already staggering back toward Loretta, coughing up a lung. “I’m really sorry, Loretta,” she croaked. “I think I need to go lie down.”
“You do look a bit clammy,” Loretta said, which brought Lauren up short. I could tell she was trying very hard not to check her reflection in a window. “We’ll call the driver to take you home.”
“No! No, that’s okay. I’ll just get an Uber,” Lauren said. “I do it at home all the time. You two have fun looking at dishes, and I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
“Nonsense. I’m not putting you in a car with a stranger. We’ll call Tarek.”
Loretta took out her phone and turned her back to us while she talked to the exact person who wanted to see Lauren and convinced him to come to the museum to pick her up. I scowled at my sister, and Lauren stuck her tongue out in response.
“He’ll be here in five minutes,” Loretta informed Lauren as she ended the call. “You should wait on the benches over by the windows where there’s some sun. That should make you feel better.”
“Thanks, Loretta.”
Our grandmother turned to me. “Come along, Tess. I think we should start at the very beginning, don’t you? Seventeen-sixty-five. Just imagine. The country wasn’t even a country yet!”
“Just imagine!” Lauren said, clasping her hands in front of her.
It was all I could do not to tackle my sister to the ground. Lauren gave another cough for good measure, then slowly walked to the windows to wait for her date. I looked at Loretta. “Maybe we should go back to the hotel, too. Just in case Lauren needs us,” I attempted, trying to both get out of this chore and ruin Lauren’s afternoon all at once. “We can come back here another time.”
Or not.
“Nonsense. Your sister is practically a grown woman, Tess. She’ll be fine.” Loretta offered her arm. “Besides, you should never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.”
I gritted my teeth. Suddenly Christopher’s suggestion about my new year’s resolution came roaring back to me, filling my ears. He was right. It was about time I started doing things for myself once in a while. About time I stopped being such a people-pleaser. But my grandmother was right, too. There was no point in putting it off until New Year’s Eve. I was going to start changing my life today. Right now.
Or as soon as I finished checking out two hundred fifty years’ worth of famous dishware.
“Daniel, hello!” Loretta greeted the front desk manager as we walked through the lobby of the Evergreen Lodge. “How is Trevor doing? Is he recovering from that flu?”
“He’s doing well,” Daniel replied. “And he loved the flowers you sent.”
“Melissa, don’t let me forget to show you that article about the new chef over at Pandalfo’s,” she called out to another worker. “You’re going to love his story.”
“I’ll stop by your office after my shift,” Melissa answered with a smile.
When Loretta paused to look over some paperwork from one of the decorators, I took the opportunity to slink away unnoticed. Or storm away, really. I had been holding on to pent-up anger and adrenaline for roughly two hours of boring dish viewing, and I was pretty much set to pop. I couldn’t believe Lauren had abandoned me, but I was even more annoyed at myself for not speaking up and telling Loretta I wasn’t interested. She was just such a force, though. It was hard to even imagine standing up to her.
But at the same time, she was somehow also one big softy. It was kind of amazing how she knew every single person who worked here by name, and also seemed to know intimate details of their lives and care about them. Even as irritated as I was about the way I’d spent my afternoon, I couldn’t help feeling proud of that fact.
It wasn’t Loretta’s fault, I reminded myself. She hadn’t done anything other than invite me along for an outing she thought I’d enjoy. I was the one who’d said yes. I was the one who’d pretended to be fascinated by scalloped edges and gold piping and hand-painted roses. I was mad at myself. Which was worse th
an being mad at someone else. I rounded the corner of the fireplace and found Christopher sitting in his usual spot.
“I just spent half my day listening to my grandmother postulating about the merits of bone china versus porcelain versus ceramic,” I announced. “That’s what I did with my afternoon.”
Christopher’s eyebrows rose, and he pushed himself up straighter. “Did you just use the word postulating in a sentence? Unironically?”
“I think I did!” I said, sitting down on the edge of the chair and putting my head in my hands, my elbows on my knees. My hair was coming loose from my ponytail in straggly chunks and I didn’t care. “I’m even starting to sound like her.”
Christopher put aside the comic book he’d been reading. It was a classic issue of Flash, which happened to be a show that I loved, though I’d never read the comics. Maybe I should start, and then we could compare the show to the original stories. Or would that be doing something for Christopher? Gah! I was losing my mind.
“Come on. There are worse things,” Christopher told me. “Loretta’s a cool lady.”
I dropped my hands dramatically and leveled him with a disbelieving stare. “Literally no one ever has called her a cool lady.”
He grinned. “Well then I’m proud to be the first.” There was a carafe and four mugs on the table between us, and Christopher reached over to pour steaming hot chocolate into two of the cups. “Have some,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”
“Do you have people bringing you treats twenty-four seven or what?” I asked.
“The staff has taken pity on me,” he explained, adding marshmallows to both cups. “And I am milking that pity for all it’s worth.”
I was about to tell him I was too anxious for chocolate when my stomach rumbled, and I realized that I’d barely eaten anything at lunch. Loretta had insisted on a random French restaurant that had nothing recognizable on the menu. I took the cup Christopher offered and sipped. The liquid scalded my tongue, but then warmed my throat and insides. I sighed. He was right. I did feel a little better. But only a little. I took a deep breath. Then I grabbed a dozen more mini marshmallows and dumped them into the cup.
