ponytail, with strands escaping from the sides. She wore a pink tank top and old jeans, but no shoes on her dirty feet.
This wasn’t the Aunt Lydia I remembered in the stylish business suits she wore to run the museum.
She stood and stepped toward the edge of the porch, giving me a hesitant smile, and I realized I looked ridiculous just sitting in the car. So I opened the door and climbed out, then made my way across the yard, my footsteps crunching on the layer of pine needles.
“ Hannah,” Aunt Lydia said, smiling warmly at me. She opened her arms and I stepped into them for a hug. I closed my eyes and inhaled. There it was, the familiar scent of the cocoa butter lotion she always used. At least one thing hadn't changed.
“ Do you have a lot of bags?”
I followed Aunt Lydia back to my car and she opened the back door to retrieve two red suitcases, stitched with my initials in white.
“ Let me guess,” Aunt Lydia said as she looked at the bags. “Your mother bought these.”
I grinned. “Of course.”
Inside, the house looked even smaller than the outside did. The living room was tiny and I bumped into a table as I tried to maneuver past the couch. The walls were a soothing sage green, with paintings of mountain scenery hung on them.
“ Sorry, it’s much smaller than what you’re used to,” Aunt Lydia said as she carried my bags toward the hallway. “It’s definitely not a big house in a gated community.”
My parents and I used to live in a smaller house, in the suburbs, where most of the people I went to school with lived. But then my dad’s bank went national and made him into a big corporate president and CEO. My parents decided our new lives in the upper class required a new house that reflected our status, with a tall iron gate to keep out the people who didn’t fit in.
“ It’s fine,” I told Aunt Lydia. She led me to a tiny bedroom in the back corner of the house. It was dark because of the trees clustered around this end of the house and so Aunt Lydia had to turn on the light even though it was two o’clock in the afternoon. The room contained just a narrow bed, with a pink and green striped blanket on it, and a door opened to reveal the tiniest closet I had ever seen.
“ I haven’t gotten around to decorating this room," Aunt Lydia said as she looked at the empty white walls. “No one ever uses it, so...” She shrugged and set my bags on the bed.
“ You hungry?” she asked as she turned back to me.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Just a little tired from the drive.” It was about five hours from Willowbrook to Asheville, and I had gotten stuck in a traffic jam near Raleigh, which added another forty-five minutes.
“ Take a nap,” Aunt Lydia said. She backed toward the door, looking around as if this reunion was as awkward for her as it was for me. Things had changed in the last four years, and the close relationship we’d once had was long gone. What did she think when she looked at me? Did she think I was too much like my mother, too prim and put together? Was she disappointed in how I had turned out?
“ We can go out for dinner later. I know a great local place you’ll love.”
“ Okay,” I agreed.
Aunt Lydia gave me a smile before she stepped into the hall and shut the door.
I sat down on the edge of my bed, folding my hands in my lap. I tried to remember what Mark had said. This trip would be a good opportunity for me to get away from everything that held me back. A chance to clear my head and not think about all the things my parents wanted and expected of me. A chance to forget about the application for Yale that I hadn’t yet filled out despite my mom’s insistence on early admission. This summer was my chance to not be the Hannah Cohen everyone back home expected me to be.
Most of all, it was my escape once the news about my dad finally leaked to the media.
#
“ You like Italian food, right?” Aunt Lydia sat close to the steering wheel of
This wasn’t the Aunt Lydia I remembered in the stylish business suits she wore to run the museum.
She stood and stepped toward the edge of the porch, giving me a hesitant smile, and I realized I looked ridiculous just sitting in the car. So I opened the door and climbed out, then made my way across the yard, my footsteps crunching on the layer of pine needles.
“ Hannah,” Aunt Lydia said, smiling warmly at me. She opened her arms and I stepped into them for a hug. I closed my eyes and inhaled. There it was, the familiar scent of the cocoa butter lotion she always used. At least one thing hadn't changed.
“ Do you have a lot of bags?”
I followed Aunt Lydia back to my car and she opened the back door to retrieve two red suitcases, stitched with my initials in white.
“ Let me guess,” Aunt Lydia said as she looked at the bags. “Your mother bought these.”
I grinned. “Of course.”
Inside, the house looked even smaller than the outside did. The living room was tiny and I bumped into a table as I tried to maneuver past the couch. The walls were a soothing sage green, with paintings of mountain scenery hung on them.
“ Sorry, it’s much smaller than what you’re used to,” Aunt Lydia said as she carried my bags toward the hallway. “It’s definitely not a big house in a gated community.”
My parents and I used to live in a smaller house, in the suburbs, where most of the people I went to school with lived. But then my dad’s bank went national and made him into a big corporate president and CEO. My parents decided our new lives in the upper class required a new house that reflected our status, with a tall iron gate to keep out the people who didn’t fit in.
“ It’s fine,” I told Aunt Lydia. She led me to a tiny bedroom in the back corner of the house. It was dark because of the trees clustered around this end of the house and so Aunt Lydia had to turn on the light even though it was two o’clock in the afternoon. The room contained just a narrow bed, with a pink and green striped blanket on it, and a door opened to reveal the tiniest closet I had ever seen.
“ I haven’t gotten around to decorating this room," Aunt Lydia said as she looked at the empty white walls. “No one ever uses it, so...” She shrugged and set my bags on the bed.
“ You hungry?” she asked as she turned back to me.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Just a little tired from the drive.” It was about five hours from Willowbrook to Asheville, and I had gotten stuck in a traffic jam near Raleigh, which added another forty-five minutes.
“ Take a nap,” Aunt Lydia said. She backed toward the door, looking around as if this reunion was as awkward for her as it was for me. Things had changed in the last four years, and the close relationship we’d once had was long gone. What did she think when she looked at me? Did she think I was too much like my mother, too prim and put together? Was she disappointed in how I had turned out?
“ We can go out for dinner later. I know a great local place you’ll love.”
“ Okay,” I agreed.
Aunt Lydia gave me a smile before she stepped into the hall and shut the door.
I sat down on the edge of my bed, folding my hands in my lap. I tried to remember what Mark had said. This trip would be a good opportunity for me to get away from everything that held me back. A chance to clear my head and not think about all the things my parents wanted and expected of me. A chance to forget about the application for Yale that I hadn’t yet filled out despite my mom’s insistence on early admission. This summer was my chance to not be the Hannah Cohen everyone back home expected me to be.
Most of all, it was my escape once the news about my dad finally leaked to the media.
#
“ You like Italian food, right?” Aunt Lydia sat close to the steering wheel of
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