Calla’s chin, and turns her head so that she can’t help but meet her grandmother’s gaze.
“What?” Calla asks.
“Just making sure you’re listening.”
“I am.”
“Good. So here’s the other thing. When I talked to Ramona, she said she’s taking you to get your hair and makeup done on Saturday before the dance.”
“I know she said she wants to do that, but really, all I need is to get a haircut. I’ve needed it for a few weeks now.” She shoves her overgrown bangs off her forehead.
“You should have told me. I don’t notice that sort of thing—on my own head or anyone else’s. It drove your mother crazy when she was your age. Sometimes I don’t think she wanted to be seen with me in public.”
Calla can’t help but grin at the thought of Mom, always so meticulously put together, next to Odelia, with her wacky wardrobe and wild red hair, which usually does need some attention—from a hairstylist or even just a brush.
The smile fades when she realizes that she never did get to see the two of them together—not that she really remembers, anyway. She was too young the last time Odelia visited them in Florida to recall much of anything.
For all she knows, Mom and Gammy’s falling out started over something really minor—like Gammy dropping and not rinsing red gobs of Close-up from the bathroom sink after brushing her teeth, which would have driven Mom crazy and drives Calla crazy now.
Yeah, and maybe they never screamed at each other about a secret Mom promised someone never to tell, and dredging the lake to find out the truth about . . . something.
Calla’s not even sure anymore if she actually overheard the argument—the one that keeps coming back to her in her dreams.
Maybe she was just channeling something that happened in the past, something she didn’t witness. Mediums do that all the time.
But you’re not a medium, she reminds herself.
Or is she?
What would she call herself, if not that?
A psychic? That’s what she told Owen Henry. It seemed less . . . threatening.
Medium is just such a strong label. Even here in Lily Dale, where everyone and their brother is one.
Calla isn’t registered with the Assembly, and she doesn’t have a shingle or a business card, but . . .
But you do what mediums do.
Deal with it.
Deal with the fact that your “normal” life ended the day Mom died.
“Anyway,” Odelia goes on, “it’s very sweet of Ramona to want to take you to the salon on Saturday. I’d take you myself, except I’ve got a Thought Exchange meeting that afternoon.”
“It’s okay, Gammy.” Calla wonders if that’s why she’s here, to apologize for not doing girly things with her.
“Ramona also mentioned that you got a few things at the Gap when she took you to the mall on Friday, and that you tried on some dresses at Lord and Taylor, but you didn’t buy one.”
“No. I didn’t really find anything I loved.” Which is a lie, and one Calla repeated to Ramona and Evangeline at the mall, too.
In reality, there were a couple of dresses she loved, and they did look good on her. But she simply didn’t have enough money, even with Ramona’s coupon, so she returned them to the rack.
Ramona kept asking if it was because of the money, and she wanted to lend some to Calla for a dress, but Calla wasn’t comfortable doing that on top of the haircut. It’s not like Ramona’s rolling in cash, with two kids to support and an old house to maintain, all on a Lily Dale medium’s modest earnings.
There was no way she was going to ask her father for the money, either. He probably spent his last dime just getting here for the weekend and treating Ramona and Evangeline to dinner Friday night.
Poor Dad.
Poor me.
Maybe she should have told Owen Henry she’d take his thousand dollars after all.
Odelia’s gaze is sharp behind her purple cat’s-eye glasses.
“I know you need something to wear to the homecoming dance, Calla. And I’ll be happy to buy
“What?” Calla asks.
“Just making sure you’re listening.”
“I am.”
“Good. So here’s the other thing. When I talked to Ramona, she said she’s taking you to get your hair and makeup done on Saturday before the dance.”
“I know she said she wants to do that, but really, all I need is to get a haircut. I’ve needed it for a few weeks now.” She shoves her overgrown bangs off her forehead.
“You should have told me. I don’t notice that sort of thing—on my own head or anyone else’s. It drove your mother crazy when she was your age. Sometimes I don’t think she wanted to be seen with me in public.”
Calla can’t help but grin at the thought of Mom, always so meticulously put together, next to Odelia, with her wacky wardrobe and wild red hair, which usually does need some attention—from a hairstylist or even just a brush.
The smile fades when she realizes that she never did get to see the two of them together—not that she really remembers, anyway. She was too young the last time Odelia visited them in Florida to recall much of anything.
For all she knows, Mom and Gammy’s falling out started over something really minor—like Gammy dropping and not rinsing red gobs of Close-up from the bathroom sink after brushing her teeth, which would have driven Mom crazy and drives Calla crazy now.
Yeah, and maybe they never screamed at each other about a secret Mom promised someone never to tell, and dredging the lake to find out the truth about . . . something.
Calla’s not even sure anymore if she actually overheard the argument—the one that keeps coming back to her in her dreams.
Maybe she was just channeling something that happened in the past, something she didn’t witness. Mediums do that all the time.
But you’re not a medium, she reminds herself.
Or is she?
What would she call herself, if not that?
A psychic? That’s what she told Owen Henry. It seemed less . . . threatening.
Medium is just such a strong label. Even here in Lily Dale, where everyone and their brother is one.
Calla isn’t registered with the Assembly, and she doesn’t have a shingle or a business card, but . . .
But you do what mediums do.
Deal with it.
Deal with the fact that your “normal” life ended the day Mom died.
“Anyway,” Odelia goes on, “it’s very sweet of Ramona to want to take you to the salon on Saturday. I’d take you myself, except I’ve got a Thought Exchange meeting that afternoon.”
“It’s okay, Gammy.” Calla wonders if that’s why she’s here, to apologize for not doing girly things with her.
“Ramona also mentioned that you got a few things at the Gap when she took you to the mall on Friday, and that you tried on some dresses at Lord and Taylor, but you didn’t buy one.”
“No. I didn’t really find anything I loved.” Which is a lie, and one Calla repeated to Ramona and Evangeline at the mall, too.
In reality, there were a couple of dresses she loved, and they did look good on her. But she simply didn’t have enough money, even with Ramona’s coupon, so she returned them to the rack.
Ramona kept asking if it was because of the money, and she wanted to lend some to Calla for a dress, but Calla wasn’t comfortable doing that on top of the haircut. It’s not like Ramona’s rolling in cash, with two kids to support and an old house to maintain, all on a Lily Dale medium’s modest earnings.
There was no way she was going to ask her father for the money, either. He probably spent his last dime just getting here for the weekend and treating Ramona and Evangeline to dinner Friday night.
Poor Dad.
Poor me.
Maybe she should have told Owen Henry she’d take his thousand dollars after all.
Odelia’s gaze is sharp behind her purple cat’s-eye glasses.
“I know you need something to wear to the homecoming dance, Calla. And I’ll be happy to buy
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