My head is reeling. Too much information. Too good to be true. Something feels off.
“Now, as far as this situation you’ve gotten yourself in … ,” she says.
Okay, I should have known. This is it; the trap is set. My twisting stomach drops to the bottom of the porch and falls into the harbor.
“Grandma—” I start, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand.
“I already talked to Kat Karras and Levi Summers this morning,” she says matter-of-factly. “I told Levi if he doesn’t drop the settlement against the Karrases, then I will band together with Kat and sue him for what his boy has done to our neighborhood. I also told him I was on my way to the courthouse to file a restraining order against Adrian for harassing my granddaughters,and that gossip about everything Adrian’s done would be all over town by the afternoon. That did the trick, all right.”
I try to speak, but nothing comes out of my mouth.
She folds her arms and gives me a smug look. “It wasn’t difficult. I’ve known Levi all my life, and I just told him how it was—that was that. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about his son. I guess I didn’t want to. To tell you the truth, Levi Summers is a decent man, and not many are who have the money and power he does, at least in my experience.”
“He’s dropping the settlement? The window …”
“Forgotten. His lawyer’s going to talk to Kat’s lawyer and work out an agreeable compensation for anything their insurance didn’t cover on their broken window. It’s done. Forget the window.”
I blink at her. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“No. That’s not right, Grandma. You can’t just swoop in here and fix everything. I mean, in regard to the Karrases, I’m one-hundred-percent grateful,” I say, hand over heart. “But the window is my problem. I broke it. And because of me, Lucky has not only endured gossip around town, he’s been working two jobs to cover the costs. Hard work. Sweaty, demeaning work. All my savings has gone to pay him back—all the cash I earned from my photos online. You just made everything we did this summer completely meaningless. It can’t just be for nothing.”
She stares at me for a long moment. “You sound just like your mother, you know that?”
“Good. Proud to.”
Her head nods once. “Proud that you do too, kid.” She exhales. “Okay, I see your point. You’re thinking that Diedre Saint-Martin meddled in your life, right? That’s what you’re thinking. That’s what Winnie always says.”
Well, yeah. But now I understand why. “You could’ve asked me first. There wasn’t a rush. I haven’t eaten breakfast yet!”
“I haven’t slept,” she admits. “My schedule is all messed up from the flight. But okay. Maybe you have a point. Sometimes I make mistakes and trip over my own feet. If I screwed up, I’m sorry. Nothing is set in stone, though.”
Whoisthis woman? Not the grandmother I know. Maybe this is the Diedre Saint-Martin that Lucky keeps telling me about—Grandma 2.0. Or perhaps Grandma 1.5 with some bugs that need updating. She’s not perfect, by a long shot, but we all have a little growing to do, so I guess this is a start, anyway.
“I need to pay off the window, Grandma.”
“You feel like you still owe a debt? Then pay it back by sticking around and finishing school. Maybe go to college, too? There’s a great art school just up the road. Your mother dropped out, but I think she’d like to see you go all the way.”
“I don’t think so. Mom told me the truth about Henry Zabka—all of it. So I don’t know if that’s the place for me.”
She shakes her head firmly and puts two slender, cool hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me. Don’t let that bastard ruin your dreams. He didn’t invent the camera. You’re talented, kid. If youdon’t want to go to that college, then study somewhere else. Find a mentor. Hell, be your own mentor—you can learn anything online these days. Like I’ve told Evie …just do something. Whatever you decide, don’t waste what you’ve got, okay?”
“I’m trying. It’s just hard.”
“I know, baby. If it was easy, any clown would do it. But the Saint-Martins were never scared of a little hard work.” She pats my shoulders and releases me on a long exhale. It’s clear by her body language that this conversation is coming to an end, and suddenly I feel as though this is the longest private conversation we’ve had in years—and yet somehow, she’s not given me nearly enough information.
“Hey, Grandma?” I say. “Was Kat mad? About Lucky taking the fall for me … about smashing the department store window?”
“She’s … confused.”
I groan and put both hands on my hips to keep myself steady, frowning at the picture-postcard view in front of us. “Think I better talk to Lucky.”
“Probably wise.”
“Before the curse has time to sink its teeth into us,” I murmur.
Grandma waves a dismissive hand. “That’s a load of bull. The Saint-Martins aren’t cursed. We just need to stop shutting one another out, that’s all. And this is a start, don’t you think?” She winks at me and heads toward Marblecliff’s lobby, then puts her hand on the doorknob. “Think about the window and tell your mom about staying in the apartment. I’ll text you my condoaddress. We can have dinner there tonight and discuss what to do about the Nook after I try to kick Franny’s tenants out of their lease.”
