‘Not great?’
Lydia hacked out a laugh and grinned.
‘I’m sorry, it must be strange for you,’ she said, fluffing out her curls. ‘I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know all about Miss Catherine’s long-lost son and his little baby girl. Weird to think of you all grown up, you’re always a baby in the stories.’
‘It’s weird to think anyone would be telling stories about me at all,’ I told her, looking away out the window as my face flamed.
Over the top of her neon-pink bike shorts and matching crop top, she wore an oversized white men’s shirt that had been embroidered with delicate flowers in blue, silver and gold. Her chunky white sneakers gleamed, box fresh, and both her wrists jangled with stacks of bracelets and bangles. Everything about her looked intentional. Her clothes were put together, her hair had been styled. My clothes were just clothes and my hair was just there, no thought had gone into any of it. It wasall I could do not to fall on the floor and beg her to teach me her ways.
‘You sure do look like your grandmother,’ she said with a low, appraising whistle. ‘All except for the hair anyways. Looks like a Bell, talks like a Brit, what a killer combo. You’re going to slay out here, Em.’
‘Slaying is not on the agenda,’ I assured her, sneaking a sideways glance in the mirror mounted on the wall beside the door and silently squirrelling away the comparison with Catherine. Did she really see the resemblance? ‘To be honest, I’ll be happy if I can get through the next few weeks without melting. Is it always this hot here?’
Flopping on the couch, Lydia patted the seat cushion, inviting me to do the same. ‘It will get hotter,’ she said as I took the other end of the couch, all tight and tense compared to her loose limbs. ‘But don’t worry too much about the heat, it’s the pop-up thunderstorms you have to watch out for.’
‘Summer in Savannah is not the same as summer in Wales.’ My face was grim as I pulled the already damp fabric of my black T-shirt away from my skin. ‘I’m going to need some new clothes. Almost everything I own was designed to keep me warm.’
‘I’ll take you shopping,’ she offered before I’d even had a chance to ask. ‘I just know your grandmother will take you to Neiman’s and dress you up like a little debutante doll. In fact, if you even hear her think the word debutante, I want you to run. Call me and I will hide you. I’ve been dodging the conversation for a year and a half now, I’m an expert.’
I found a smile as she kicked her legs up over the back of the couch, waving her arms around in the air as she talked. Lydia was impossible not to like.
‘They still do that kind of thing here?’ I asked. ‘Debutantes?’
‘Oh yeah. And it’s every bit as ridiculous as you’re imagining.’
I tried to picture it, the two of us in fancy white gowns and matching gloves, waltzing around some ballroom with faceless dates in black tuxedos, but just the thought of it made my skin prickle and I looked down to see a red rash flushing on my forearms. Could be hives, could be heatstroke, who could say for sure? All I knew was, I wasn’t the debutante ball kind.
‘You are joking, right?’ I swallowed hard as imaginary me tripped over her own feet at the imaginary ball much to imaginary Catherine’s disappointment. ‘There’s no way I could be a debutante. I haven’t done any of the training and I can’t dance. I can barely walk in a straight line without falling over.’
‘Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but it’s tradition, honey, and this town is all about tradition. Especially your family,’ Lydia replied ominously. ‘Do you really think the missing Bell baby is going to sail back into town andnotbe presented to society? It’s the only coming out party our grandmothers are interested in.Trust me.’
‘If we could stop calling me the missing Bell baby, that would be amazing,’ I said, all the blood draining out of my face.
‘Lyds, why does our guest look like she’s about to bolt out the door and never come back? She’s been here less than five minutes and you’ve scared her already?’
I looked up to see we were no longer alone. A tall, gorgeous boy in a basketball jersey and baggy shorts leaned against the doorframe, grinning, and all the blood that had drained away from my face raced back up at once. His curls were cut close on the sides and looser on top, and the broader planes of his face made more room for his wide eyes and full lips, but there was no way to miss the fact he and Lydia were siblings. Aside from being absurdly good-looking, they both had the same irresistible glint in their eye that promised all kinds of good trouble.
‘Em, this is my twin brother, Jackson.’ Lydia waved a hand between the two of us and Jackson flashed a grin that mademy stomach flutter. ‘Don’t look directly at him. He’s like the sun, one glance and he’ll blind you, you’ll be ruined forever.’
‘Lydia, that’s a terrible thing to say about your own brother. Even if it is true,’ Jackson said, full of mock outrage before he turned the full force of his charm on me. ‘Miss Emily, please forgive my sister, she’s the most dreadful host. What can I get y’all to drink?’
‘That’s me, the worst host in the whole of Georgia,’ Lydia declared before hopping up to her feet, hands on her hips. ‘You sit, I’ll get the drinks. What’ll it be? Tea? Lemonade? Arnold Palmer?’
Jackson took his sister’s place on the sofa and I felt a warm flush all over that had nothing to do with the weather. I was as bad at dealing with hot guys as I was hot temperatures, maybe even worse.
‘That’s tea and lemonade together,’ he murmured in my ear. ‘It’s delicious.’
‘I know that,’ I replied quickly, inching away as he moved closer. ‘I’ve had an Arnold Palmer before, my dad used to make them all the time.’
Definitely worse with hot guys.
‘Arnold Palmers it is.’ Lydia pointed at her brother with narrowed eyes. ‘Jackson, if you could not hit on her for the three minutes I’m gone, that would be amazing.’
He gave her a sharp salute then stretched his arms along the back of the sofa, lowering the force of his flirtation by a few degrees as he turned towards me.
‘So, you’re the long-lost granddaughter?’
‘Apparently,’ I confirmed, fussing with the dry ends of my ponytail. A few degrees were not enough. ‘Although I only found out myself a couple of days ago.’
