in her stomach so sharp that she had to grip the door handle. Izzie felt like Barbara was torturing her by moving so slowly, but the truth was, Barbara drove like a snail all the time.
Barbara’s voice suddenly filled the dead air. “Do you want me to put on some music?”
“No.” Izzie kept her hand pressed to the window and watched as the center disappeared from sight. She slumped back in her seat. There was nothing left to see as far as she was concerned. They’d pass the school next, and she couldn’t actually say she would miss the metal detectors and bag checks. She closed her eyes and thought about going to sleep, but the hum of the Taurus’s engine kept her from drifting off. Finally she opened her eyes again and looked outside, hoping for a distraction.
They were cruising down a forest-lined highway Izzie had never been on. She hadn’t traveled anywhere outside Harborside, except on field trips. After a while the highway turned into a local road, and they passed coastal towns with boatyards and tackle supply stores. The GPS alerted Barbara to make a right, and she slowed down. That’s when Izzie saw the large wooden sign.
E MERALD C OVE H OME OF THE F IGHTING C ARDINALS E STABLISHED 1888
Harborside didn’t even have a sign. Emerald Cove’s was carved with gold Gothic lettering that seemed to hint at the town’s status. But fighting cardinals? Seriously? Izzie didn’t have time to debate it. She was too busy staring out the window. Forget sweet Victorians. Here, the houses all had a football field for a lawn. They sat on hilltops and were so big they could fit Izzie’s entire block inside (okay, slight exaggeration). Then the car passed more ornate signs that announced things like the Emerald Cove Yacht Club, Emerald Prep, Emerald Landing, and the Emerald Cove Elementary School Administration Building. Finally they crossed a bridge that led onto a main street that looked like it had been plucked from a movie. Small, one-story shops with pretty, identical storefronts passed by. There was an ice-cream shop, a Gap, two different bookstores, a swimwear boutique, Italian restaurants, something called the Library that actually looked like it served food, an Apple Store, bakeries, and a crazy cosmetic store with white plastic models in the window. The only thing that seemed out of place was a fifties-style diner called Corky’s that had neon lights. Barbara passed a park where a band was playing and then slowed to a stop in front of a guard booth.
“Hi. We’re going to the Monroes on Cliffside Drive,” Barbara told a guy in a uniform that had the words Emerald Cove Estates embroidered on his lapel.
“Name please?”
“Barbara Sanchez and Isabelle Scott.”
You need permission to actually drive down their street , Izzie thought in awe. Who exactly are these people?
The guard picked up a telephone and said their names to someone, and the next thing she knew the gate was lifting and Barbara had permission to drive past the most stunning homes Izzie had ever seen.
“This is it,” Barbara said, pulling up to a gorgeous moss-green Colonial with a wraparound porch. Izzie’s jaw practically hit the floor. This was not a house; it was a mansion! What looked like three brand-new cars sat in the driveway and a dirt bike she’d drooled over at the bike shop blocked the long brick path to the door. Every light in the house was on, and the front door was wide open. She was still upset, obviously, but she couldn’t help being impressed. This was where she was going to live now?
Her duffel bag was thrust into her arms. “Ready?” Barbara asked, startling her.
No? Izzie felt slightly dizzy and too shocked to move, but she managed to get out of the car and follow Barbara to the front door. Barbara rang the doorbell and a blond woman in a navy dress came trotting out.
“You’re here!” she said, sounding both overwhelmed and excited. Izzie felt the same way. “She’s here!” she yelled to
Barbara’s voice suddenly filled the dead air. “Do you want me to put on some music?”
“No.” Izzie kept her hand pressed to the window and watched as the center disappeared from sight. She slumped back in her seat. There was nothing left to see as far as she was concerned. They’d pass the school next, and she couldn’t actually say she would miss the metal detectors and bag checks. She closed her eyes and thought about going to sleep, but the hum of the Taurus’s engine kept her from drifting off. Finally she opened her eyes again and looked outside, hoping for a distraction.
They were cruising down a forest-lined highway Izzie had never been on. She hadn’t traveled anywhere outside Harborside, except on field trips. After a while the highway turned into a local road, and they passed coastal towns with boatyards and tackle supply stores. The GPS alerted Barbara to make a right, and she slowed down. That’s when Izzie saw the large wooden sign.
E MERALD C OVE H OME OF THE F IGHTING C ARDINALS E STABLISHED 1888
Harborside didn’t even have a sign. Emerald Cove’s was carved with gold Gothic lettering that seemed to hint at the town’s status. But fighting cardinals? Seriously? Izzie didn’t have time to debate it. She was too busy staring out the window. Forget sweet Victorians. Here, the houses all had a football field for a lawn. They sat on hilltops and were so big they could fit Izzie’s entire block inside (okay, slight exaggeration). Then the car passed more ornate signs that announced things like the Emerald Cove Yacht Club, Emerald Prep, Emerald Landing, and the Emerald Cove Elementary School Administration Building. Finally they crossed a bridge that led onto a main street that looked like it had been plucked from a movie. Small, one-story shops with pretty, identical storefronts passed by. There was an ice-cream shop, a Gap, two different bookstores, a swimwear boutique, Italian restaurants, something called the Library that actually looked like it served food, an Apple Store, bakeries, and a crazy cosmetic store with white plastic models in the window. The only thing that seemed out of place was a fifties-style diner called Corky’s that had neon lights. Barbara passed a park where a band was playing and then slowed to a stop in front of a guard booth.
“Hi. We’re going to the Monroes on Cliffside Drive,” Barbara told a guy in a uniform that had the words Emerald Cove Estates embroidered on his lapel.
“Name please?”
“Barbara Sanchez and Isabelle Scott.”
You need permission to actually drive down their street , Izzie thought in awe. Who exactly are these people?
The guard picked up a telephone and said their names to someone, and the next thing she knew the gate was lifting and Barbara had permission to drive past the most stunning homes Izzie had ever seen.
“This is it,” Barbara said, pulling up to a gorgeous moss-green Colonial with a wraparound porch. Izzie’s jaw practically hit the floor. This was not a house; it was a mansion! What looked like three brand-new cars sat in the driveway and a dirt bike she’d drooled over at the bike shop blocked the long brick path to the door. Every light in the house was on, and the front door was wide open. She was still upset, obviously, but she couldn’t help being impressed. This was where she was going to live now?
Her duffel bag was thrust into her arms. “Ready?” Barbara asked, startling her.
No? Izzie felt slightly dizzy and too shocked to move, but she managed to get out of the car and follow Barbara to the front door. Barbara rang the doorbell and a blond woman in a navy dress came trotting out.
“You’re here!” she said, sounding both overwhelmed and excited. Izzie felt the same way. “She’s here!” she yelled to
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