Tatum
I took a selfie, flashing my dad a smile and pretending to wave at him, attached it to the email, and pressed send. I hoped he would take notice that I wasn’t scowling or smirking.
Aside from the handful of emails, we hadn’t actually spoken since I’d hung up on him; he’d always managed to call when I was out. My good mood was forcing my guilt over our last conversation to show itself. Maybe this letter—and the ones before, where I had initiated the contact to show him I cared—would soften things a little bit for his homecoming. A girl could hope.
After I finished the bathrooms and took the vacuum out of the closet, Blanche emerged from the basement.
“Good morning, ladies,” she called. “Who wants bagels for breakfast? I don’t feel like cooking.”
“Me,” I called. Tilly cheered from the hall, where she was almost done sweeping.
“Good choice, girls. I’ll be back shortly.” Blanche took the spare car keys from the spare key drawer and slid her leopard-printed purse over her shoulder. “The house smells nice and clean, Tatum.” She winked and disappeared into the garage.
I vacuumed as fast as I could, taking care to make the marks in the carpet that Belén left after she was done. The more evidence, the better. Afterward, I sliced open a cinnamon crunch bagel, courtesy of Blanche, smeared it with cream cheese, and took my breakfast up to my room so I could shower and pick out the perfect show-time outfit.
When I came back into my room post-shower, smelling much sweeter and wrapped in a towel, I found the prettiest sundress ever on my bed, and a note lying on top. It was the same paper Tilly’s note had been written on.
All my bunco winnings were burning a hole in my pocket. I thought Cinderella could use a new gown for the ball.
All my love,
Blanche
I held it to my body and looked in the mirror. The blue-and-white seersucker halter dress had a swingy A-line skirt and pockets, falling just to the tops of my knees. My arms and shoulders were glowing bronze from the hours spent outside and, just like Hunter, my biceps were more defined than they’d ever been in my life. My hair now fell well past my shoulders, highlighted naturally, also thanks to the blazing sun. As I stepped into the dress, I looked down and saw a new pair of silver sandals, more delicate than my old ones, sitting at the foot of my bed. I slipped my feet into them, ran some gloss over my lips, and grabbed my purse.
Blanche was waiting for me at the kitchen table.
“You look lovely, Tatum.”
I smiled at my new sandals. “Thank you, Blanche. This was so generous. You are so generous.”
“It was nothing.”
“It was everything.” I bent and kissed her cheek.
She blushed and smiled. “I hope you have the time of your life, my dear.”
Tilly descended the stairs, and we went over the itinerary with Blanche once again. I even double-checked the mileage on the car and wrote it down for her, though she insisted it wasn’t necessary. I insisted it was.
“Please be home by midnight, girls. My only request.”
“We will,” I promised.
Blanche hugged us both and shooed us out the door and on our way to pampering, camaraderie, and a little musical bliss.
Chapter 16
Hunter hadn’t been kidding when he said the owner of the property for Sol Jam had a lot of space. In Arlington, our houses were practically on top of each other, but out here in the country—which sounded funny, since it was only about forty or so miles away—it was easy to forget the gridlock, the hurried anxiety, and the apathy of a major metropolitan area. The address our GPS directed us toward was down a gravel road, way in the back of a street that had me wondering if a wayward cow might appear any minute.
“Is this the same state we came from?” Tilly wondered out loud.
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
The bumping and jostling finally gave way to a huge mansion sitting atop green grass that seemed to go on forever. I had no idea that much space still existed on private property this close to the city. It was, though, the ideal place for a group of rock-star hopefuls to spend a warm summer evening banging on drums and wailing on a guitar without causing law enforcement to show up.
Tilly parked the car in the circular driveway behind Abby’s brother’s Camaro, and I was almost blinded by the sunlight glinting off its chrome bumper. Satchel over my shoulder, loaded with laptop, camera, and business swag, I headed for the backyard with Tilly trailing behind me, both of us gaping at the oversized wedding cake of a house. We stopped in our tracks when we saw the setup.
I’d been expecting the bands to perform on a patio, with the audience on blankets and maybe a few lawn chairs, but there was an honest-to-goodness stage on the property. Someone handy with a hammer had made a large platform raised several feet off the ground, with scaffolding around the edges, speakers hanging strategically. What looked like a string of twinkle lights had been wrapped around the metal frame, which I bet would look quite festive once the sun went down. Two guys—a little older than me, maybe seniors or college students—were plugging in all sorts of complicated-looking electrical cords and arranging instruments and stands on the stage.
Out in the yard, edged with dense trees, blankets and large pillows all the colors of the rainbow had been strewn about. They looked almost as comfortable as the Schmidts’ couch. A wooden gazebo, also draped with lights, sat at the far end of the yard, and a fire pit flanked with benches was off to the side.
“I think I’m just going to park myself here all night,” I said to Tilly, pointing to an enormous burgundy pillow resting on a navy blanket.
She poked me in the shoulder. “Don’t you have work to do?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess Abby would be mad if I ditched her to lie around.” Like she’d heard her name, Abby emerged from a sliding glass door right behind the stage.
“Hey! You made it!” She gave us a big wave and propped her sunglasses up on her head.
“Hey, Abby. This is my stepsister, Tilly. Tilly, this is Abby, my partner in plant removal.”
Abby’s dark brown eyebrows shot up. I hadn’t prepped her for Tilly; I thought the element of surprise might be more fun. “Right. Tilly. Good to meet you.” They shook hands, and Tilly smiled warmly. Abby relaxed. “So, the other bands are trickling in, and there are some guys in the basement warming up. Hunter’s in there with them.”
“What about Kyle and Paolo? And the one who was on vacation?” I looked around the yard, but no one else appeared.
“Paolo is on his way. Kyle and Shay have some school photo thing, they’ll be here later.”
“Are they McIntosh students? Senior pictures started today,” Tilly said.