“Ember, have you applied to any colleges?” He looks genuinely interested.
“I have.” I pause to wipe the corners of my mouth with a napkin before replacing it on my lap. “Six, actually.” Halfway through rattling off the list, Mrs. Rosenthal interrupts me.
“You’ll have to go on scholarship, I’m sure.”
Johanna’s sharp intake of breath is the only sound at the table. Derek and Noah wear different expressions of shock. Bulging eyes, open mouths. Mrs. Rosenthal’s head bobbles on her neck, and she takes a tiny bite of food.
“Probably,” I nod. “I imagine I’ll also have to take out student loans, and work my way through school. It may take me longer than four years.”
It’s hard to keep a straight face, but I manage it. She’s not pleased to hear about my station in her twisted world, and I’ve just sunk in the dagger a little further.
Johanna changes the subject, and Noah’s grandmother has very little to say after that. She may have even nodded off once while Derek was telling me about the vineyard.
After dinner Noah asks me to take a walk with him. Johanna tells her mother it’s time to go back to the independent living facility. On their way out the door, I hear Mrs. Rosenthal gripe loudly about my hair color. “It’s just so red,” she squawks. “Like her—”
They’re out the door before I can hear the last word. It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t need to hear the disparaging remark.
Noah’s cheeks are the color of my hair. “I am so sorry,” he murmurs.
I shrug. “Doesn’t bother me. I like my hair.”
We step onto the dark back porch and Noah pulls me into his arms.
“For the record, I love your hair.”
“Thanks.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with getting scholarships and student loans. I can’t believe she said that.” I feel him shake his head. “Actually, I can, but how did she even think to say something like that? She doesn’t even know you.”
I chuckle against him. “I almost told her I was going to become a circus clown and start a homemade soap-making business, but I didn’t want to give her a heart attack.”
“I wish you had.”
“Noah!”
He turns to the backyard and grabs my hand. We head down the steps and into the grass.
“Come on,” he says, the moonlight shining down on his face as he looks back at me. “I want to show you a spot I like to go to be alone.”
He leads me away from the house. I look out, taking in as much as the landscape as I can in the darkness. My eyes adjust quickly, and I see acres of grass and, beyond that, vineyards. It’s so vast, it’s dizzying. If I’d grown up here in all this space, it would’ve been hard to convince me to come inside.
“Here,” Noah says, helping me up onto a wooden picnic table. “This is my spot. It’s quiet out here. Problems don’t exist when you’re sitting on this table.” He slides his arm around my back, and I curl into him.
The night is quiet, and so are we. Noah’s fingers brush my hands, bumping over my knuckles. He flips my hand over and traces designs on my palm with his fingertip.
At the sound of an owl, I startle and watch it leave its perch in a tree. “I didn’t even know it was there,” I whisper. The owl flies until it disappears from our view.
Noah takes a deep breath, and my head rises and falls against his chest.
“What?” I ask.
“Thank you for putting up with my grandma tonight. And my mom.”
“They weren’t that bad.” I’m stretching it a bit, and we both know it.
Noah laughs softly, and my head bumps along with it.
“I don’t think your mother likes me.” I bite my lip. Noah told me she was cold, but it’s more than that. A feeling in my gut that hasn’t let up since she first cast a glance at me.
