farm. He was actually the one who first contacted me.”
I shake my head at her obvious lie. “I don’t believe you. He didn’t want me to go.”
My grandmother sighs. “Fine. Ask him if you’d like. He really does love you, I think. He just had an inkling that your mother came from money, and I suppose he wanted some.”
“Big Jon doesn’t give a crap about money,” I retort. “The guy runs a communal farm.”
“Even communal farms need to pay their taxes, dear. Nevertheless, the fact remains that you are here, and as a guest in this house, you need to adhere to my rules. I feel I’ve been extraordinarily lenient about most things, but I will not have you disrespecting my organization. I was a debutante, and so was your mother. You are next in line.”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t believe that Mom was—”
My grandmother opens the drawer of her desk with a loud snap, fishes out a picture, and hands it to me. It’s my mother in the white dress I saw the other day. She’s standing on a large marble stairway, surrounded by a group of similarly frocked girls. She looks so pretty, it’s hard for me to tear my eyes away.
“Wow.”
“Yes,” my grandmother says. “She looked exquisite. She was exquisite. Though she wasn’t born that way, Alexandria. Being a Magnolia shaped her. What I’m hoping is that by following in her footsteps, you’ll learn something. Don’t you want to be like her?”
I look away, trying to control my emotions. “She’s the only person in the world I want to be like.”
“Well, then, start your training. It’s a very important step to being part of Savannah’s social circle.”
“Fine. I’ll try to do better. You know, fall in line with this manners thing.” How bad can it be, anyway? “Can I keep this picture?”
“Certainly.”
“Okay, I’d better get ready. Hayes is probably on her way.”
“All right,” my grandmother says. “Oh, and one more thing, Alexandria. I was told you made a new friend today.”
I cock my head. “Damien, the fashion guy?”
“No. Sam Buzzard.”
“Oh yeah. He was cool. I was reading in this strange little garden and—”
“Doc Buzzard, his father, has been our personal health-care provider for some time,” my grandmother says.
“Whose? The family’s?”
“The Magnolia League’s.”
I shake my head. I swear, this town is getting weirder and weirder.
“In this day and age, it’s best to secure one’s health care, dear. But… his family is a bit eccentric. Did Sam say anything strange today?”
“No,” I say. “He was a nice dude. Although I do think it’s kind of odd that he didn’t tell me his father was the Magnolia League’s doctor. I mean, he said he knew the Magnolia League, but… that kind of information would stand out.”
“That is precisely what I’m saying. The Buzzards can be secretive. A bit strange. I would limit my time around them, if I were you.”
“I guess.”
“I would prefer it if you did. Avoid speaking with Sam alone, I mean.”
See, this is where we run into trouble. Because of course the minute my grandmother tells me to do something, what I really want to do is exactly the opposite.
“We’ll see,” I say. “I mean, I’ll certainly try.”
My grandmother stares at me coldly a moment and then drains her martini glass. It really is the oddest thing. Seriously—she must be at least sixty, but she has barely any wrinkles on her face.
“Excellent. Well. Run along and get ready for your social engagement, why don’t you.”
“Okay.” But for a couple seconds, I remain right where I am. For the briefest moment, I feel a little sorry for her. It must be lonely living in this big house with no one but Josie and me. And she lost her daughter, after all, just as I lost my mom.
But if my grandmother is suffering, she doesn’t show it. She’s already picked up the receiver of her fancy phone, which has all her Magnolia League friends conveniently on speed dial. No doubt she’s anxious to line up some fabulous evening plans.
“All right, then, darling,” she says. “Run along.” And with a swipe of her hand, she waves me away.
11
Early Saturday evening, the sky over Buzzard’s Roost shimmers in the late-summer heat. Sina presses a wet cloth to the back of her neck. Some of the houses out here have air-conditioning, but she’s never liked the feel of recycled air. No, she lives with the windows open, in winter, summer, even hurricane season. The air is filled with the buzzing of crickets