Winter White (17 page)

He smiled grimly. “I appreciate that. Callista has threatened the paper with slander, but the story is still running. Just promise me you won’t read it or get upset.”

“What does it say?” she asked. Nicole was waving frantically. She had to get over there, or she’d be late for the race.

Bill looked uncomfortable. “It says that you and Mira wish you could be adopted. That you’d rather crisscross the globe with Madonna than be stuck in Emerald Cove with me.”

Izzie inhaled sharply. She
had
said that. She and Mira had joked around about it one night while they were watching a story on celebrity travel on E! But they had been half
kidding, and they definitely didn’t think anyone had heard them. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“Izzie Scott! You’re up!” Coach Greff yelled from across the room.

“Have a great race.” He gave her a small smile.

But Izzie didn’t have a good race. She lost the 200-meter freestyle relay. She told herself it was because the girls at St. Alexander’s Girls School held the county medal in the event. The truth was, all she could think about was her mom. Maybe that’s why she finished the meet and knew where she needed to go. She got as far as the Emerald Prep drop-off area before running into the other person she couldn’t get off her mind.

“Hey!” Brayden ran to catch up with her. His brown hair was matted to his head from his football helmet, and he was in gym clothes. “I just got out of practice. I wanted to see the rest of your meet, but someone said it was over. Did you win?”

“Yes and no,” she said, avoiding his gaze. Technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong at cotillion. They weren’t officially dating, so he could dance with whomever he wanted, but he still behaved like a royal jerk. “I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Brayden’s face fell. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

Um, yes?
She didn’t want to get into this. She wanted to catch a bus to see Grams and make it home before dinner. “I’ll catch you later.” She started walking away.

“This is about Savannah, isn’t it?” Brayden wasn’t giving up. She kept her eyes on the main gate and the bus stop just beyond it. “You’re upset about Savannah and me dancing together at the welcome tea.”

The way he said it—like he had no responsibility, that it just happened—made Izzie furious. She whirled around. “You’re more observant than I thought,” she said, the anger in her voice clear. “How could you not warn me that you were coming to the tea and planning to totally ignore me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. It was wrong,” Brayden said, looking upset. “But you have to understand—”

“I had to watch you two on the dance floor.” She let him have it. “And even after that, you didn’t come over to talk to me. You stayed with her!”

“I’m sorry,” Brayden said contritely. “I was only there ten minutes. I was going to call you after and explain, but—”

“But you were having their family over for dinner,” Izzie guessed.

Brayden looked surprised. “I’m an idiot! I should have told you everything. I don’t know why I listen to Dylan.” Izzie’s ears perked up. “She said you’d be upset about the dinners, so I was better off keeping them quiet. I know how worried you get about Savannah getting between us. I’m sorry, Iz.”

Dylan couldn’t stand Savannah. If she told Brayden to keep the dinners from her, then Izzie had to assume Dylan
was trying to protect her. The story made more sense now, and unfortunately it also made it harder for her to be mad at Brayden. But there was still the fact that he’d ignored her texts. He wasn’t off the hook yet.

“I thought you were hiding something from me,” Izzie said, starting to calm down. “I don’t trust people that easily and I trust you, Brayden. Finding out you lied to me…”

He walked toward her. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. It won’t happen again.” The only consolation was that he looked miserable.

“That still doesn’t explain why you danced with Savannah at the luncheon,” she said. She did not want to be
that girl—
the one who hounded a boy to death about his every move—but Brayden had to know how hurt she was. “It still doesn’t explain why you ignored three texts from me asking if you were coming.”

Brayden looked puzzled. “I didn’t get your texts.” She gave him a sharp look. “I swear. I couldn’t find my phone anywhere, and my parents just got me a new one yesterday.” He pulled a new phone out of his pocket and showed it to her.

She felt slightly sheepish now.

“I know this doesn’t change what I did. I still should have called you and told you I was going to have to dance with Savannah at the luncheon,” Brayden said. “My parents bullied me into it with the whole ‘our family has to set an example’ speech and the ‘we owe it to the Ingrams’ talk.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sick of it.”

She wanted to believe him, but she kept thinking about what Dylan said about Brayden being his parents’ lackey. Dylan said Brayden never said no to them. Was he really going to stand up to them now?

Brayden squeezed her hand. “I should have told you what was going on. It won’t happen again. Give me another shot. I’m really sorry.”

She didn’t want to open herself up to being hurt again, but he looked so sincere. She softened a bit. “You’d better be,” she warned him, but she held on to his hand until the J26 bus pulled up in front of them. “I have to catch this.”

“I’ll go with you,” Brayden told her, and pulled his wallet out for fare.

Izzie laughed. “You don’t even know where I’m going!”

“So?” Brayden took her bag. “All I need to know is I’m going with you.” He stepped up in front of the opening bus doors.

“Charmer.” Izzie pushed him onto the bus ahead of her.

A half hour later, they got off at the stop near Coastal Assisted Living Center. By that point, she had filled Brayden in on where they were headed.

“Isabelle! So nice to see you again,” said the receptionist as she buzzed her and Brayden in. “I didn’t know you were visiting today.”

“Hi, Susan. I’m not on the schedule, but I thought if I got here before dinner…”

For some strange reason, the woman hesitated. “I know she’s had a rough few days.” Izzie’s shoulders tensed. The center had called Aunt Maureen the other night about Grams’s condition. Apparently, she had been having all sorts of health problems unrelated to the dementia. It seemed like after one part of Grams’s body failed, they had all started to follow suit. But Aunt Maureen had said it was nothing Izzie should worry about. The woman noticed Izzie’s reaction and gave her a small smile. “But I’m sure she’d love to see you and your friend. Maybe it would help.” Susan pressed a
Hello
sticker onto Brayden’s T-shirt. “They’re setting up for bingo in the recreation room. Your grandmother and her friends are being wheeled down now.”

Izzie and Brayden walked down a bright blue hallway to the recreation room. Hannah, aka the “fun coordinator,” was flinging bingo cards on all the tables. She looked harried.

“Isabelle! How are you, honey?” Hannah asked, eyeing Brayden. “Who’s this?”

“My friend Brayden,” she said. Hannah dropped a stack of cards. “Need help?”

“Yes.” Hannah passed them both bingo stampers. “Can you put these in front of every chair? This place may pay me well, but no one listens to me about needing help for certain events. When we have an art project for Thanksgiving, a
macaroni necklace craft, or a game of bingo, I’m the only one holding down the fort.” She looked embarrassed. “But you didn’t come here to hear me complain. How’s your grandmother today? Better?”

“I haven’t seen her yet.” Hannah nodded. Remembering the note from Abigail Townsend, an idea occurred to Izzie. “When are events, usually?” Izzie asked. “Weeknights or weekends?”

“I can schedule them anytime,” Hannah said. “Why do you ask, sugar?”

“Well, I’m here once a week to see Grams, and I feel bad it’s not more. Plus, I need to do some volunteer work for my cotillion training. Maybe I could help out here,” Izzie said, feeling hopeful.

“You’re doing cotillion?” Hannah studied Izzie like a level of Angry Birds she couldn’t beat. “I didn’t figure you for the type.”

“Yeah, me, neither,” Brayden agreed, and Izzie gave him a sharp look.

“So what do you say?” Izzie asked. “I’m yours if you want me.” There was no way Abigail Townsend could fault her for picking a nursing home.

“Of course I want you!” Hannah said. “You’re hired.”

“Great!” Izzie grinned. “I’ll start now.”

“Can I help today, too?” Brayden asked. He cleared his throat. “People say I have an excellent bingo caller voice.”

“You’re hired. You’re both just in time, too, because here they come.” The residents began arriving slowly. Izzie spotted Grams near the back of the pack, being wheeled in by her regular nurse, Eileen. Izzie motioned for Brayden to follow her.

Izzie sucked in her breath when she saw her grandmother. Her appearance had changed rapidly from even her last visit. “I’ll take her from here, Eileen,” Izzie said quietly, and grabbed the handlebars. Grams looked a little paler and thinner than she had the week before, but her blue eyes still lit up her face. Someone had obviously combed her thinning white hair and fastened a tiny pink flower in it.

“Hey, Grams,” Izzie said softly, steering her to a table without chairs, reserved for the wheelchairs. “How are you?” Her grandmother never answered. She just stared ahead, concentrating hard on something Izzie could never see. Her lips barely moved; her eyes seemed to hardly blink. She rarely made eye contact anymore.

“This is my friend Brayden,” Izzie told her.

Brayden crouched down and squeezed her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Grams. I’ve heard so much about you.” Grams didn’t look at him, but Izzie did. Whenever they talked about Grams, he acted like having dementia was the most normal thing in the world. It was at that moment that she knew she’d been right to forgive him.

“I’m going to practice.” Brayden cleared his throat. “Great meeting you, Grams.”

Grams had always been a great sounding board. She didn’t give opinions anymore, but it still helped to talk to her. “That was Brayden,” Izzie whispered, leaning by Grams’s right ear. “He’s the one I’ve been telling you about. I really like him, but his mom is in charge of cotillion, and I know she doesn’t like me.” She glanced at Brayden across the room. He was testing out different caller voices. She fixed the crocheted sweater around her grandmother’s shoulders. “I miss Mom so much, especially today. Hearing Bill talk about his life with my mom—with Chloe—made me sad.”

At the mention of Chloe’s name, Grams stared up at Izzie, the warmth in her eyes returning for a moment. “Zoe, there you are! I was wondering where you went.”

Zoe?
This was a new one. Grams must have said her mom’s name wrong. It used to be hard when Grams thought Izzie was somebody else, but over time, she had gotten used to it. Her grandmother got agitated whenever Izzie tried explaining who she was so Izzie got good at pretending she was her mom. “Hi, there.”

Grams touched Izzie’s hand. “You were gone too long this time. I told you, silence never solves anything. You have to work through your disagreements. When I’m gone all you two will have is each other.”

This conversation was new. Who was Grams talking about? Izzie felt like she was getting a peek inside her grandmother’s diary. What else didn’t she know about her mom?
Was her mom seeing someone when she died? Was Grams talking about her dad? Had her mom actually mentioned him to her? “You’re right,” Izzie said. “We need each other.” Her heart was beating out of her chest. “Who do I need again?”

Grams’s eyes were squinty and her thin lips went straight, like they did when she didn’t like something Izzie said. “Don’t get snappy. You know who I’m talking about.”

Izzie was dying to say “who,” but before she could, she saw Grams’s expression change. Her grandmother stared at her for half a second in confusion, then looked away, frightened, and stared straight ahead. The old Grams was gone again.

“And that is how you introduce yourself in Japan to a new acquaintance.” Ms. Norberry finished her presentation and gave a final bow to the cotillion class as a reminder of what they had just learned. The class bowed in return.