Trevon smiled warmly. It seemed genuine. “Good. There are lots of holiday activities inside. Some of the Littles are making Hanukkah cookies. They’re going to play dreidel, too. Some are making Christmas cookies. And whole lot of other stuff. Some guys even brought a snow machine and it’s running in the backyard. Go have fun, honey.”
Walking inside, Samantha found a festive atmosphere, almost like a holiday party.
A familiar voice called out, “Hey. Glad you made it.”
She turned to her side to see Iris and Cami coming out of the kitchen. They both wore aprons streaked with icing.
It didn’t make any sense to her why Iris and the others continued to be nice to her. She’d been such a brat to all of them!
But they were just so nice and seemed determined to give her chance after chance.
As much as she was growing to appreciate that, she couldn’t let them hang around her too long. Not now. That would only increase the odds that they figured out her secret once they met Samantha tonight.
Looked like she’d have to be rude a few more times. It wouldn’t last long.
Why do you care so much now, Sam? It’s not like you’re part of their little group that lives in that fancy mansion. You’re not one of them. A sister.
She assumed the answer to that question was because they were important to Kendrick.
It just all of a sudden felt wrong to be such a brat.
Hmm. Maybe Kendrick was a good influence on her and inspired her to be better.
That would come later. Right now, she had to get them away.
“Sorry. Can’t talk. My real friends are waiting for me somewhere around here.”
Iris and Cami both looked hurt, but it passed quickly.
“Well,” Cami said, “if you decide you want to cook, Auntie Caroline is going to show us how to make pecan pie.”
Auntie Caroline was a sweet woman who worked at the nursery along with Athena. She was another southern transplant, too, having moved to L.A. from Georgia.
As much as Samantha would have liked to learn pie-making, she couldn’t right now.
Not as Tonya. Perhaps she could later on as Samantha…
If your little ruse holds together.
“Thanks, but don’t count on it,” she said haughtily.
She kept walking through the house without so much as a second glance at them.
In the backyard, she found a snow machine had indeed been set up, blowing the cold, white powder into a spot in the middle of the yard. Littles frolicked in it, made snowballs, and tossed them at each other.
That was about as close as they’d come to a snowstorm in Southern California. A white Christmas only happened in the movies or the songs.
“Hey, there she is,” a woman said.
It was Monica. Like Samantha, she was about twenty-five years old. Also like Samantha—but unlike Tonya—she had brown hair.
Her bestie, Marissa, might have been closer to thirty and had auburn hair. Both were about the exact height, sort of on the tall side with long, model-like legs, and bore enough of a resemblance that one might think they were related.
Samantha had asked them once; there was no relation.
“Hey,” Samantha said, doing the two faux kisses on each cheek to Monica and then repeating the greeting to Marissa. “I’m glad you two are here. I need to talk to you both.”
“It can wait,” Marissa said abruptly. “Iris, Lana, Annika, and Cami are here. We’re just about to lure them outside and then pelt them with snowballs.”
