Melanie had darker skin because her mother was Japanese and her father had Indian in him. Not the kind from a different country, but the kind that lived here once upon a time in Louisiana. Melanie had straight, brown hair, skin that was smooth and honey brown, and a birthmark on her thigh in the shape of California. Her daddy was a surgeon, and she had her own bedroom with a canopy bed, a bathroom she didn’t have to share, and a housekeeper named Martha, who made them peanut butter–banana sandwiches while she watched As the World Turns on the television in the kitchen. Yeah, the Brevards had a television in their kitchen.
Melanie was lucky she was so rich, but Tennyson’s friend didn’t even seem to care that she had been blessed with a boom box, two pairs of Tretorns, and a membership at the country club. And tennis lessons. God, Tennyson would die to have tennis lessons just so she could wear one of those cute white skirts.
“So did you figure out what to do?” Melanie asked, casting a glance over at the box.
“Is anyone at your house?”
“Mother invited some students in Hillary’s new class over for a ‘get to know you’ event. She’s even letting them order Domino’s Pizza. She wants Hilly to be popular and stuff.” Melanie flipped her own shirt down. They’d been trying to get tans for the past few weeks so they would look awesome for school. At Tennyson’s school, fifth grade was in the new wing with the sixth graders. She didn’t want to look like a baby around the sixth-grade boys.
Tennyson’s stomach growled at the thought of delivery pizza, but before they snuck a few slices, they had to do something with the box. “Good. That means Martha will be distracted.”
“Why?”
“I think we have to see exactly what that is before we decide what to do. It may be no big deal, but . . .” Tennyson looked over at the box, wishing Melanie hadn’t brought it to their spot.
“I think we need some magic,” Melanie whispered, following Tennyson’s line of vision before reaching down and lifting up the cheap silver chain Tennyson had brought back from Silver Dollar City.
Tennyson’s pappy and nanny had taken Tennyson and her four siblings to Branson last summer. They’d been gone for only five days, but it had been the best five days of Tennyson’s life. They’d eaten hamburgers at a diner counter, taken a tour of stalagmites, and watched some dude blow glass into a vase. She’d strained at the bit to ride the big roller coaster zigging by as they left the saloon where the dancers shook big, ruffled skirts and stole her pappy’s ball cap, but after the first exhilarating ride, she’d thrown up on her nanny’s new Keds. Nanny had said no more rides for Tennyson, so instead she’d haunted the gift shops looking for the exact right gift to bring back to Louisiana.
She’d found the split-heart best-friends necklaces in the General Store, and now she and Melanie wore them every day.
“Best friends forever,” Tennyson said, lifting her own pendant and fitting it with Melanie’s.
Melanie sighed like that would fix everything. Her friend was funny. She really believed there was magic between them. That was probably because Tennyson had been able to superglue the Madame Alexander doll together so that Melanie’s mom didn’t find out they’d broken her. They weren’t supposed to play with those dolls because they were collectibles. Not that Tennyson played with dolls anymore.
No duh.
Tennyson wished she had something collectible. Her mother had plates from different states mounted on the wall in their cramped kitchen, but that was it. Melanie’s house was not only filled with expensive art but had wall-to-wall carpet and a crystal chandelier in the dining room. Not to mention a game room with an intercom and an Atari console Melanie’s dad had bought them against her mother’s wishes.
All Tennyson had was a blow-up pool and Scrabble.
Melanie stood up and stared at the bushes around the dusty culvert that contained a Big Gulp cup someone had tossed into the depths. “I don’t want summer to be over. I don’t want to go to stupid St. Ignatius. I’m scared, Teeny.”
“It’ll be okay. You can still come hang out with me after school.”
Melanie shook her head. “Mother says I’ll have to have a tutor because I’m academically behind. I’ll never get to see you.”
“We can talk on the phone. We can figure anything out.” Tennyson slung an arm around her best friend’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
“Pinkie swear?” Melanie asked, her voice trembly again like she might cry. She lifted and crooked her little finger.
“Pinkie swear,” Tennyson said, linking her littlest finger with her friend’s. A pinkie swear wasn’t a light thing between her and Melanie. When they pinkie swore, it happened.
Melanie picked up the box, her expression still troubled. Tennyson moved beside her, and together they walked toward the worn path that led to Melanie’s three-story house. Right as they climbed the incline to the other side, Tennyson looked back. She wasn’t sad that summer was over, because she was ready to wear her new Izod polo and the grosgrain ribbon her mother had bought her in lieu of a belt. She was ready for fall . . . she just wished Melanie were going back to Glenbrook with her.
But no big deal. They’d always be friends. Nothing was going to break them apart.
Best friends 4ever.
CHAPTER ONE
Spring 2020
“If Tennyson Whatever Her Name Is Now thinks I’m hosting a graduation party with her, she’s lost her mind,” Melanie said, folding her son’s athletic socks into neat stacks on the matelassé spread covering the king-size bed. The abandoned iPad with the email from her daughter about the “fabulous” grad party had been tossed aside.
Her husband poked his head out of the closet. “She’s gone back to O’Rourke. Besides, we’re not doing the party. Just attending.”
Melanie rolled her eyes.
“Come on, Mel, you know we have to play nice. It’s for the kids. For Emma.”
“I’m not sure anything is worth having to deal with Tennyson,” Melanie huffed, looking for the mate to the Under Armour sock that had a hole in the heel. Dang dog. Poppy loved to steal the socks Noah left in the game room and chew on them. She’d asked her son not to leave his dirty socks on the floor, but Noah wasn’t good at listening these days. Most everyone around her wasn’t good at listening. “And kids is the right word. That’s exactly what they are. Emma actually said something about how it might make sense for her and Andrew to move in together while she was in med school. To save money.”
Kit came out adjusting his tie. “She’s not wrong. I don’t have a problem with that.”
“Them living together?” Melanie looked at him like he’d agreed to a three-way with their seventy-two-year-old oversexed next-door neighbor, Coco Festervan. She knew Coco was probably up for it. There were rumors for good reason.
“Well, it makes sense financially,” Kit said, wrapping the navy tie he always wore to make deals around his neck.
Melanie dropped the T-shirt she was about to fold. “You’re seriously advocating our daughter live with a man before marriage?”
She knew she sounded like a Puritan because times had changed and people lived together all the time, but how in all that was holy was she going to tell her mother that Emma was moving in with her boyfriend? That little nugget would go over like a dog turd in the punch bowl. Anne Fumiyo Brevard, Melanie’s mother, was the president of her book club, the secretary of her Bible study, and the chairperson of the South Shreveport Garden Society Tour of the Greens. Which meant she didn’t cotton to loose morals even if they saved a person money. There was a right way, and that was Anne’s way.