but it does.” Mac tapped her chin on her knee, arms wrapped tightly around her bent legs.
“She who?” Laura asked, since Mac had left a big freakingblank in the story. “And, wait, did you say invited? . So Alex knew she was coming, but didn’t tell you? No wonder you’re pissed.”
Mac nodded. “I guess he thought I wouldn’t care, but I do, even though we’re just friends, right?”
“For God’s sake, Mac, who?” Laura tried again.
Mac opened her mouth to reply.
Ding-dong!
Once the doorbell chimed, Mac zipped her lips.
“Ignore that. Go on, spill,” Laura prodded, but her friend’s head had turned toward the pocket doors, as voices grew louder beyond it, accompanied by the staccato tap of footsteps in the hallway.
“Someone’s coming,” Mac said just as the pocket doors slid back open and Ginger strolled into the room. Her red hair stuck out in messy peaks around her freckled face, which broke into a huge pixie grin the moment she spied Laura sitting there with Mac.
“Nice! It’s like a Three Amigas surprise reunion!” Laura hopped up from the sofa and gave Ginger a hug. “But I thought you were grounded. How’d you get away?”
“Deena gave me a reprieve since I played nice at Rose’s.” Ging ruffled Mac’s hair before she plunked down on the floor, tucking the skirt of her dress around her as she sat cross-legged. “You won’t believe what happened at Grammy’s tea party.”
“I’m still waiting to hear what happened with Mac,” Laura said, settling back down beside Mac and giving her a nudge. “She was just about to dish on some girl who showed up and ruined their Labor Day picnic by flirting with Alex Bishop, which apparently made our little Mackie a wee bit jealous!”
“Am not,” Mac said defensively, her face beet red, prompting Laura to chant, “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” until Mac whacked her with a throw pillow and begged, “Shut up.”
“What girl are you talking about?” Ginger asked, leaning forward. “Someone we know?”
“I was getting to that,” Mac said, clearly irritated. “It was Cindy Chow, the transfer from St. John’s. She and Alex met at a stupid car show, and I am so not jealous.” Mac gave the bridge of her smart-girl glasses a shove. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I just wanted some time with Alex alone, and I didn’t get it. That’s all there is to it. End of story.” She raised her chin as if daring anyone to refute her.
Laura glanced at Ginger, knowing that she didn’t believe Mac any more than Laura did. Still, you could only push Mac Mackenzie’s buttons so many times before she shut down. And Mac’s posture—knees to her chest, arms hugging them, lips pursed—meant they wouldn’t pry anything more out of her, not right now.
So she turned to face Ginger, nudging her with a bare foot. “Guess it’s your turn to share, since Mac’s being a party pooper.” Laura ignored Mac, who stuck out her tongue. “How’s Rose Dupree?”
“As sly as ever,” Ginger said, blowing out a slow breath. “Y’all wouldn’t believe how she set me up.” Her petite hands fluttered, gesturing as she told them, “I’m having my portrait done in my grandmother’s debutante gown, and the artist painting me is the grandson of the guy who painted Rose when she was a Rosebud.”
“Does that sound like an old Gilmore Girls rerun or what?” Mac cracked. “But if you tell me how hot he is, I’m gonna gag.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you”—Ginger grinned mischievously, looking fit to burst—“but he is.”
Mac pretended to stick a finger down her throat.
“Only I’ve got these strange vibes about him, like I met him a long time ago, and it wasn’t good,” Ginger said, causing Laura to squint with confusion.
“So, it’s a past-life thing?” she teased, but Ginger shook her head.
“More like a middle school thing. He’s a senior at Caldwell now,” Ginger explained. “He’s been up east in boarding
“She who?” Laura asked, since Mac had left a big freakingblank in the story. “And, wait, did you say invited? . So Alex knew she was coming, but didn’t tell you? No wonder you’re pissed.”
Mac nodded. “I guess he thought I wouldn’t care, but I do, even though we’re just friends, right?”
“For God’s sake, Mac, who?” Laura tried again.
Mac opened her mouth to reply.
Ding-dong!
Once the doorbell chimed, Mac zipped her lips.
“Ignore that. Go on, spill,” Laura prodded, but her friend’s head had turned toward the pocket doors, as voices grew louder beyond it, accompanied by the staccato tap of footsteps in the hallway.
“Someone’s coming,” Mac said just as the pocket doors slid back open and Ginger strolled into the room. Her red hair stuck out in messy peaks around her freckled face, which broke into a huge pixie grin the moment she spied Laura sitting there with Mac.
“Nice! It’s like a Three Amigas surprise reunion!” Laura hopped up from the sofa and gave Ginger a hug. “But I thought you were grounded. How’d you get away?”
“Deena gave me a reprieve since I played nice at Rose’s.” Ging ruffled Mac’s hair before she plunked down on the floor, tucking the skirt of her dress around her as she sat cross-legged. “You won’t believe what happened at Grammy’s tea party.”
“I’m still waiting to hear what happened with Mac,” Laura said, settling back down beside Mac and giving her a nudge. “She was just about to dish on some girl who showed up and ruined their Labor Day picnic by flirting with Alex Bishop, which apparently made our little Mackie a wee bit jealous!”
“Am not,” Mac said defensively, her face beet red, prompting Laura to chant, “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” until Mac whacked her with a throw pillow and begged, “Shut up.”
“What girl are you talking about?” Ginger asked, leaning forward. “Someone we know?”
“I was getting to that,” Mac said, clearly irritated. “It was Cindy Chow, the transfer from St. John’s. She and Alex met at a stupid car show, and I am so not jealous.” Mac gave the bridge of her smart-girl glasses a shove. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I just wanted some time with Alex alone, and I didn’t get it. That’s all there is to it. End of story.” She raised her chin as if daring anyone to refute her.
Laura glanced at Ginger, knowing that she didn’t believe Mac any more than Laura did. Still, you could only push Mac Mackenzie’s buttons so many times before she shut down. And Mac’s posture—knees to her chest, arms hugging them, lips pursed—meant they wouldn’t pry anything more out of her, not right now.
So she turned to face Ginger, nudging her with a bare foot. “Guess it’s your turn to share, since Mac’s being a party pooper.” Laura ignored Mac, who stuck out her tongue. “How’s Rose Dupree?”
“As sly as ever,” Ginger said, blowing out a slow breath. “Y’all wouldn’t believe how she set me up.” Her petite hands fluttered, gesturing as she told them, “I’m having my portrait done in my grandmother’s debutante gown, and the artist painting me is the grandson of the guy who painted Rose when she was a Rosebud.”
“Does that sound like an old Gilmore Girls rerun or what?” Mac cracked. “But if you tell me how hot he is, I’m gonna gag.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you”—Ginger grinned mischievously, looking fit to burst—“but he is.”
Mac pretended to stick a finger down her throat.
“Only I’ve got these strange vibes about him, like I met him a long time ago, and it wasn’t good,” Ginger said, causing Laura to squint with confusion.
“So, it’s a past-life thing?” she teased, but Ginger shook her head.
“More like a middle school thing. He’s a senior at Caldwell now,” Ginger explained. “He’s been up east in boarding
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