The bulky Horatio leaped back and two glasses tipped over, spilling orange juice and blood-orange juice all over his neatly pressed suit.
‘Oops.’ Olivia’s cheeks burned. ‘I didn’t mean to. I thought you were a dream.’ She was about to ask Horatio what he was doing there when Ivy’s coffin swung open, whacking poor Horatio so that he stumbled back into the wall behind him.
Ivy jolted out of her coffin like a vampire in a bad horror flick. ‘What’s going on?’ She spotted the butler. ‘What are you doing here?’ Ivy rubbed her eyes with her fists.
Cautiously, Horatio placed the brass platter on the edge of Olivia’s bed and handed Ivy a half-full glass of blood-orange juice and Olivia the remains of the regular orange juice.
‘Thanks.’ Olivia took a sip.
The butler rubbed the spot where he had been struck with Ivy’s hard coffin-lid. ‘Surprise!’ he managed to choke out, like he’d been saving it up for the right moment. Olivia got the feeling that his breakfast treat had not gone as planned.
‘Surprise!’ Two more voices echoed from the doorway. Olivia almost spilled the orange juice again. There at Ivy’s bedroom door were their grandparents, the Count and Countess Lazar.
‘Oh my darkness,’ exclaimed Ivy, clambering out of her coffin. ‘What are you doing here?’
It was as if Transylvania had been transplanted directly into the Vega household. Olivia beamed. The Count and Countess swept into the room, and immediately Olivia felt underdressed in her polka-dotted flannel pyjamas. Her grandmother was wearing a black fitted corset top and a long, full skirt that dusted the floor as she floated along, arm-in-arm with their grandfather. The Count wore a crimson velvet jacket with ruffled sleeves peeking out of the cuffs of his blazer.
‘We just flew in!’ The Countess pulled Olivia into a tight hug. Now Olivia knew why it had been so important to have a sleepover last night. My bio-dad is way too good at keeping secrets! Olivia’s heart swelled and she had the sudden desire to wrap her whole family into one, giant group hug.
‘Tell me,’ whispered the Count to Ivy. ‘What is the pizza situation like here?’
Ivy winked. ‘There’s always plenty in the freezer just waiting to be heated,’ she assured him. The Count liked to keep a stock of pizza handy.
Olivia noticed their dad, dressed in a quilted-satin dressing gown, looking on from behind his parents. ‘So this is why I just had to sleep over!’ she cried.
‘Well, I could hardly let you miss out on a wake up like this.’ He folded his arms, smiling.
Horatio, who had recovered his composure, stood stiffly off to the side. ‘I would like to cordially invite you to the dining room.’ He gestured for the family to follow and then led everyone in a line out of Ivy’s bedroom.
In the dining room, the mahogany table had been covered by a fine silk tablecloth. Olivia’s mouth watered at the yummy scents coming from a dozen platters. With a flourish, Horatio removed the sterling silver domes that covered the food.
‘Bon appétit!’ he said.
Olivia’s eyes widened. A breakfast feast was laid out for the family, complete with blood sausage for the vampires and veggie sausage for Olivia. There were scones and buttered rolls and a mountain of scrambled eggs. Horatio had only been in the house for five minutes. Had he brought the food all the way from Transylvania?
‘This looks deadly,’ said Ivy, spooning a sausage patty on to her plate.
Olivia felt like she was getting the royal treatment as Horatio draped a linen napkin over her lap. ‘What brings you to Franklin Grove?’ she asked her grandparents, stealing a scone for her plate.
‘You girls, of course.’ Grandma smacked her lips thoughtfully. ‘We want to spend some time with you, doing . . . well, whatever you normally do.’
‘Really?’ Olivia had a hard time picturing her grandparents fitting into Franklin Grove life. In fact, she wasn’t sure Franklin Grove was prepared for this level of old-school fabulous. ‘Well, I was supposed to be doing an interview with my classmate, Charlotte, at Mister Smoothie.’ Olivia hesitated. ‘But it might not be the right sort of place for you.’
Olivia’s bio-dad shuddered at the mere mention of the name ‘Mister Smoothie’. She knew he was remembering the utter horror of being forced to dance to the Twist and Shout.
Grandpa crossed his knife and fork over his plate. ‘I’m sure if it’s somewhere you like, then we’ll like it, too. Maybe we could all go there for a drink before you meet your friend,’ he suggested.
Mr Vega shifted in his chair. ‘It’s not exactly a vamp establishment.’
‘Oh, please!’ the Countess hushed her son. ‘We’re five hundred years old. I think we can handle it.’
Ivy shrugged and Olivia knew they were both thinking the same thing. This is going to be either hilarious . . . or horrible.
Chapter Three
Mister Smoothie popped into view like an ominous raincloud – a brightly coloured, very musical raincloud, but a raincloud none the less. Ivy couldn’t believe that she and Olivia were leading their father and grandparents to the least vampy place on earth. But at least her whole family was in one place. It hadn’t been too long since it had just been Ivy and her father. Now, she was part of a big family. I could definitely get used to this, she thought.
A little girl on a tricycle passed them on the sidewalk, and her bright blue helmet swivelled as she stared at Ivy’s grandparents. They looked better prepared to attend a gothic ball than take a stroll outside on the blistering asphalt. The girl stopped peddling, her jaw dropping open.