There’s one more grunt, and then a woman’s curly, brown-haired crown pokes under the blinds. She huffs and heaves, propelling the rest of her head through the window.
And then she lifts her face.
Recognition clicks instantly, and I’m so caught off guard, I stumble backward.
Her gaze lands on me, and she goes slack jawed and wide eyed, thenacks and tumbles off the windowsill, banging the blinds around.
“Are you friggin’ kidding me?” I hear Amanda Anderson mutter as I catch myself and leap toward the window.
And yes.
That is definitely Amanda Anderson. Thick, curly brown hair. Brilliant brown eyes. Natural olive skin. Pouty lips that were always more prone to smiling back in high school.
She’s in a black tank top and short jean shorts, sitting on the ground amid the holly bushes with her arms braced behind her, staring at me like I’m a ghost.
“You’re not friggin’ kidding me,” she says.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to see Lorelei.” She winces. “Actually ... that’s not right. I ... need to see you. But I didn’t know you’d be here. I knew you were in town, but I didn’t know you wereherehere.”
Amanda Anderson needs to seeme?
It’s been years since the last time we spoke to each other.
Not because there’s any animosity between us.
Not exactly.
Our families have hated each other for generations, though no one in my family has been able to explain why in any manner that’s made sense.
Their feud is the soot mark on the otherwise happy, peaceful town of Tinsel, Michigan, where it’s Christmas all year round.
Even on days like today when you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.
I’ve lived in San Francisco since I graduated from college. Last I heard through Lorelei, Amanda had moved to New York to pursue a career as an actress.
Not surprising.
Especially to anyone who watched any of her performances with the high school theater.
She lit up the entire stage.
Which is an opinion I’ve kept to myself, even knowing that Lorelei and Amanda often had lunch together at school despite our families’ feud.
They make mewas what Lorelei always told our parents.They want our families to get along, so they make me.
The teachers made mewouldn’t have been an excuse I could’ve used if I’d gotten up the balls to ask her on a date.
“This is better.” Amanda’s face doesn’t match her words. Her face saysthis is terrible and I want to go live in a hole. Which isn’t the kind of nice that I remember her being. “This way, we can keep Lorelei out of it. She’ll never have to know, and she won’t have to take sides, and it’ll all be over before you laugh about it with her later, when I’ll be long gone to stew in my own mortification for the next forever. Can I come in? I really don’t want to talk about this with witnesses.”
I glance at the houses in view from the backyard.
Doesn’t look like there are any nosy neighbors snooping, but you never know.
“They’re all downtown for ... erm ... a meeting,” Amanda says. “But I don’t know for how much longer.”
“What kind of meeting?”
