expect.”
“Well, I’m just about in here, so—”
“Sugar, I have a few things of your mother’s for you, but you’re going to have to come off there first.”
“Okay,” I grumble. I raise my leg over the railing.
“Good God! I can’t watch.” She clasps her jeweled hands over her eyes.
“Don’t sweat it. I know I seem hefty to you, but I’m actually not bad at this.” I bound from the balcony to the drainpipe to the porch. “We had a climbing wall at the RC. Okay. You can open your eyes. I’m here now.”
“Mercy.” She takes her hands from her face. “All right, good. Follow me.” She turns around abruptly, her dress swishing behind her, and walks back into the house. I follow her down the cavernous hall into the carpeted sanctuary of her bedroom. Actually, it’s less a bedroom than a luxury suite, complete with a dressing room, an ornate, silk-draped canopy bed, and a sitting room with a pretty little white desk. Almost everything is silver, including the wallpaper, the brocade fabric on the bed, and the chandelier cascading from the ceiling. Of course, there’s also a small, fully stocked silver bar with two silver stools. The bar is lined with crystal decanters. My grandmother pauses before leading me to her closet, opening it grandly, and pulling out a long cream-colored dress.
“Here,” she says. “This was your mother’s.”
I shake my head, not understanding. “Wait, she was married? I thought—”
“No, dear, this was her debutante dress,” my grandmother says patiently. “Magnolia League Ball, 1989.”
“Huh.” It’s hard to believe we’re talking about the same woman. My mother lived in hemp skirts and jeans and tank tops. She’d take one look at this thing and use it for curtains or something. As dresses go, though, it’s pretty rad. The material is silvery white, covered with a sheath of gossamer lace and embroidered with intricate beading.
“Wow. Are those real pearls?”
“Of course. Here. Take it.”
Cautiously, I take the dress in my hands. “Miss Lee, this is really awesome of you. But you do know there’s no way I’m doing this whole ballroom thing.”
“Alexandria, you have not yet been invited to do the ‘ballroom thing.’ ” She smiles coolly. “So perhaps you should rein in your haste to reject an invitation, hmm?”
My grandmother takes a key off her charm bracelet, drifts over to her large walnut jewelry box, and opens it. Even from here, I can tell it’s seriously stacked in there; the jewels wink in the soft light of the lamp. She reaches in and draws out a surprisingly modest bracelet made of dimes.
“This is for you,” she says. “Your mother made it.”
“For art class?”
“Something like that,” she says. “It’s supposed to bring good luck.”
“Too bad she wasn’t wearing it the day she drove off a cliff.”
My grandmother inhales sharply, looking at me in horror.
“I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to say. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Miserably, I put the bracelet on my wrist. Weird—it’s way too big.
“It’s an anklet, actually,” Miss Lee grumbles. “Well. That’s all I wanted to show you.” She looks in the gilded mirror, composing herself. It’s so odd—in this light, she could be as young as my mother was when she died. “And please bathe before dinner. It appears to have been a while.”
“Fine.” I turn to go.
“And one more thing, Alexandria…”
“Yeah?” I hesitate by the door.
“This is your home and I want you to be comfortable here, but the rules are to be followed.”
“Meaning?”
“If a door is locked, my dear, you are not welcome there.”
7
When I wake up in my new room thousands of miles away from my old life, I’m feeling more than a little negative. Let’s face it—I miss Reggie. So, to cheer up, I drag myself out of bed and go to the kitchen to brew a bath tincture Mom would have made: some orange slices, cinnamon bark, pine straw, rosebuds, cloves, and nutmeg. See, Mom taught me that taking a bath is about more than just washing off dirt. “It’s a time for spiritual renewal,” she said. “Purifying and strengthening your soul.” Before every bath, she’d mix up a batch of ritual herbs and salts. Salt, she said, is derived from the passion of God—it comes from his tears. Mix it with water and you’ll clear all forms of negativity. Then by blending the mixture with herbs and oils, you can anoint your aura in order to shape your fate.
Today, I ponder as I blend my mixture over the stove. There’s