the empty hallway. Her smile was bright as her eyes darted from Barbara to Izzie. She slid the bag off Izzie’s shoulder before she could protest. “You’re beautiful!” she said, staring at Izzie intently before realizing what she was doing. “Sorry. Where are my manners?” She extended a slender hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Isabelle. I’m your aunt, Maureen.”
“Hi,” Izzie said, unsure of what to say after that. What did you say to someone who was taking you in without even meeting you first? Thanks for having me just didn’t cut it.
Her new aunt looked at Barbara. “Did you find the house okay? I hope the ride wasn’t too long. I meant to have Bill’s assistant send you directions for a shortcut, but…”
“Isabelle,” a tall, graying man in a dark suit said her name so seriously, Izzie felt like he was doing roll call at school. Barbara and her aunt stopped talking as the man took Izzie’s hand. “I’m your uncle, Bill.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said hoarsely, and let go of her hand. “I—we’re—so glad you could join us.”
The sentence sounded funny, as if Izzie were being invited to a party. “Thanks,” she said, and stared at her flip-flops.
“The drive here okay?” he asked, looking from Barbara to Izzie and back.
“Yes, Senator, no traffic at all. We made good time,” Barbara told him, and her voice petered out.
Senator , Izzie reminded herself. Her uncle was a senator. No wonder they had a place like this.
A grandfather clock in a nearby room ticked loudly as everyone stood there awkwardly. No one seemed to know how to make conversation with a girl who’d landed on their doorstep with a few hours’ notice. It didn’t help that Izzie could feel her uncle staring at her. She finally looked up, and he blushed.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to… You just… you look a lot like Chloe.”
Izzie’s breath caught in her throat. She was always this way. Even though it had been a few years since her mom passed, it hadn’t started hurting any less. She couldn’t talk about her mom. Not tonight. Losing Grams, her home, coming here… Her mouth felt too dry to find words that made sense.
“But of course, I haven’t seen your mom in a long time….” Izzie’s uncle trailed off. “Are you hungry?” he asked quickly, his voice changing gears. “You must be hungry. We can make something for you. Or maybe you’re tired? Do you want to see your room?”
“Yes, your room,” Izzie’s aunt said exuberantly. “Mirabelle is going to show it to you. She’ll be in the same grade as Isabelle this year,” she told Barbara, “which should ease Isabelle’s transition to Emerald Prep immensely.”
Izzie’s eyes glanced around the spacious foyer. A living room with a huge fireplace was to her left and a formal dining room to her right. The chandelier that hung over the table was so big it looked like it would crack the table if it ever came crashing down. That’s all she could think about as two boys in dress pants and pressed shirts approached her. The younger one was carrying a soccer ball. Both had white-blond hair and green eyes and looked like their mom.
“Isabelle, right?” the one who appeared to be close to her own age asked. She nodded. “I’m Hayden,” he said. “And this is Connor.” The younger boy smiled and shook her hand gruffly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Izzie’s aunt frowned. “Where’s Mirabelle?”
“I’m here!” A beautiful girl with wavy brown hair ran down the stairs. Izzie noticed the girl quickly give her a once-over, her hazel eyes lingering on Izzie’s beat-up flipflops. Mirabelle was dressed like she was on her way out to a party. “Sorry! I was on the phone. Friend drama!” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Hi,” she said to Izzie, shaking her hand. “I’m Mirabelle, but everyone calls me Mira.”
“Your friends are always fighting,” Connor moaned.
“Here’s your first
“Hi,” Izzie said, unsure of what to say after that. What did you say to someone who was taking you in without even meeting you first? Thanks for having me just didn’t cut it.
Her new aunt looked at Barbara. “Did you find the house okay? I hope the ride wasn’t too long. I meant to have Bill’s assistant send you directions for a shortcut, but…”
“Isabelle,” a tall, graying man in a dark suit said her name so seriously, Izzie felt like he was doing roll call at school. Barbara and her aunt stopped talking as the man took Izzie’s hand. “I’m your uncle, Bill.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said hoarsely, and let go of her hand. “I—we’re—so glad you could join us.”
The sentence sounded funny, as if Izzie were being invited to a party. “Thanks,” she said, and stared at her flip-flops.
“The drive here okay?” he asked, looking from Barbara to Izzie and back.
“Yes, Senator, no traffic at all. We made good time,” Barbara told him, and her voice petered out.
Senator , Izzie reminded herself. Her uncle was a senator. No wonder they had a place like this.
A grandfather clock in a nearby room ticked loudly as everyone stood there awkwardly. No one seemed to know how to make conversation with a girl who’d landed on their doorstep with a few hours’ notice. It didn’t help that Izzie could feel her uncle staring at her. She finally looked up, and he blushed.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to… You just… you look a lot like Chloe.”
Izzie’s breath caught in her throat. She was always this way. Even though it had been a few years since her mom passed, it hadn’t started hurting any less. She couldn’t talk about her mom. Not tonight. Losing Grams, her home, coming here… Her mouth felt too dry to find words that made sense.
“But of course, I haven’t seen your mom in a long time….” Izzie’s uncle trailed off. “Are you hungry?” he asked quickly, his voice changing gears. “You must be hungry. We can make something for you. Or maybe you’re tired? Do you want to see your room?”
“Yes, your room,” Izzie’s aunt said exuberantly. “Mirabelle is going to show it to you. She’ll be in the same grade as Isabelle this year,” she told Barbara, “which should ease Isabelle’s transition to Emerald Prep immensely.”
Izzie’s eyes glanced around the spacious foyer. A living room with a huge fireplace was to her left and a formal dining room to her right. The chandelier that hung over the table was so big it looked like it would crack the table if it ever came crashing down. That’s all she could think about as two boys in dress pants and pressed shirts approached her. The younger one was carrying a soccer ball. Both had white-blond hair and green eyes and looked like their mom.
“Isabelle, right?” the one who appeared to be close to her own age asked. She nodded. “I’m Hayden,” he said. “And this is Connor.” The younger boy smiled and shook her hand gruffly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Izzie’s aunt frowned. “Where’s Mirabelle?”
“I’m here!” A beautiful girl with wavy brown hair ran down the stairs. Izzie noticed the girl quickly give her a once-over, her hazel eyes lingering on Izzie’s beat-up flipflops. Mirabelle was dressed like she was on her way out to a party. “Sorry! I was on the phone. Friend drama!” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Hi,” she said to Izzie, shaking her hand. “I’m Mirabelle, but everyone calls me Mira.”
“Your friends are always fighting,” Connor moaned.
“Here’s your first
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