Authors: Beverly Lewis
Yep, Mrs. Newton had turned out to be one of the coolest adults around. The jovial woman not only owned the Cloth Mill, she was also the cheerleading coach for the middle school. All the students looked up to her because she was so sunny. Mrs. Newton made you feel good about yourself. Which, right now, was exactly what Livvy needed.
“So . . . how’s everything going for you?” Livvy asked, wanting to be polite.
“Is
that
your question?” Mrs. Newton asked.
She should’ve known the outgoing woman would inquire. Mrs. Newton was like that, eager to hear about others. Good or bad, it never mattered with Mrs. Newton. “Not really, but tell me about
you
first.”
“Well, my store’s doing well and my duties at school are fun, as always.” She turned to Livvy. “Now . . . how are things going for you?”
She knew the woman would keep asking till she leveled with her. “I’m kind of having some trouble focusing these days.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Newton fingered the tiny silver charms on her bracelet.
“I hate to say anything, especially because you and my grandmother are becoming good friends.”
Mrs. Newton smiled knowingly and touched Livvy’s hand briefly. “Whatever you say will remain in complete confidence.”
Livvy felt comfortable enough to share her concern. “I think my grandmother means well,” she said, using her father’s words.
“Yes, I believe she does.”
“But she’s messing me up on the ice.”
Mrs. Newton nodded. “Only on the ice, dear?”
Livvy folded her hands and squeezed. She didn’t want to lay into Grandma without her grandmother around to defend herself. It didn’t seem quite fair. “Well, it’s tough getting used to things . . . the way they are right now.”
“With your grandmother in charge?” Mrs. Newton’s eyes seemed to look right through her.
“I thought you might be able to help me,” Livvy said softly. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Have you tried talking to her? Woman to woman, so to speak?” The bangles-and-bracelets woman offered a thoughtful smile. “That’s what I would do if I were you.”
Talk to Grandma?
she thought.
“She tells me you used to write the most wonderful letters to her,” Mrs. Newton remarked.
“Yeah, back before Dad and I moved here.”
“But you also wrote to your grandmother
after
you came to Alpine Lake, as well. In fact, your grandma says you ‘poured out your heart’ in some of those letters.”
Livvy felt a bit sheepish. “Sounds like the two of you have been sharing secrets.”
Whose side was Mrs. Newton on, anyway?
The friendly woman winked playfully. “Don’t you worry, darlin’. Your grandma and I are
not
conspiring against you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She took another bite of her peanut-butter cracker.
Livvy wondered about Mrs. Newton’s comment. Should she actually try to sit down and discuss things with Grandma? Did she have the courage to talk the way she used to write “her heart”? Did she even want to?
Honestly, she wasn’t sure.
Follow the Dream
Chapter Eleven
Livvy walked home from the mall rink, enjoying her freedom, the sky, and the fresh mountain air. Suddenly, behind her, she heard someone cycling fast.
Turning around, she saw Heather’s gorgeous older brother. Kevin Bock was headed her way!
Her heart in her throat, she knew this was her chance. Possibly, her one and only opportunity to impress him. But what did she do? She froze in place, gazing at him from the sidewalk.
Less than two feet away, he smiled. “Hi, Livvy,” he said.
“Uh . . . hi.” She was positively tongue-tied.
Kevin didn’t seem to notice. He kept right on, riding his bike up Main Street. His blond hair peeked out from under his blue knit ski cap, and his long, blue-jeaned legs pumped the bike pedals hard. Then, unexpectedly, he made the turn at the next corner. Gone, just like that!
The unforeseen encounter left her feeling jumpy. She couldn’t seem to make her legs work.
What’s wrong with me?
Livvy wondered.
Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other, forcing herself to keep moving. Of course, she knew better than to share any of this with Grandma. It wasn’t the kind of heart-to-heart news you just dash into the house and tell. Nope, not even Jenna Song was going to hear about this!
Three-twenty Main Street—the tall gray Victorian house where she lived with her father and grandmother—was way too quiet when she arrived.
“Grandma, I’m home,” she called.
When no one answered, she was secretly glad to have the house to herself. Alone! One afternoon in a thousand.
She took her time removing her jacket and mittens. Quietly, she went to the closet and hung up her coat, first stuffing the mittens inside the wide pockets.
Where is everyone?
she wondered.
Trying her best to enjoy the peaceful moment, she headed for the kitchen, where she made a snack. A peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich was a good idea. After all, she’d watched Mrs. Newton nibble on her peanut-butter-and-cracker snack.
Remembering the conversation, Livvy poured herself a tall glass of milk and sat at the table. But the sound of Kevin’s voice—
“Hi, Livvy”
—continued to ring in her ears. He’d smiled at her and called her by name! She still could hardly believe it. She was dying to phone Heather, to find out if he’d ever mentioned her name to his sister. But no, she wouldn’t do that. No sense getting her hopes up, anyway.
She took sips of her milk between bites of sandwich. She remembered that Mrs. Newton had encouraged her to talk to Grandma. But Livvy wondered if Grandma would actually hear her out.
Three years ago, she and Mom had spent a whole week with Grandma Hudson. It was early summer, and everything about life was beautiful then. She’d taken first place at regionais and was more than anxious for skating camp to begin. Mom had suggested they spend some time with Grandma, a recent widow. So they drove across town, not far at all.
Mom and Grandma had become much closer that short week together. Livvy didn’t know why for sure. Maybe it was because her mother needed to connect with Dad’s mother, especially now that Mom’s parents were no longer living. It may have been more Grandma Hudson’s need—to reach out in her loneliness. Whatever the reason, Livvy and her mom enjoyed the week, doing lots of “girl” things. Mostly, they hung out at Grandma’s big house. They went barefoot, all three of them. And she and Mom listened intently to the stories Grandma told while they sat on the back porch.
Livvy remembered staring out at the enormous shade trees and the surrounding woods. At the time, she wondered why everyone didn’t just build tree houses and live high in the branches. Be country bumpkins for the summer, at least.
They sifted through hundreds of black-and-white pictures that week at Grandma’s. They baked strawberry-rhubarb pies and banana-nut bread, too. And Livvy “put up” her first ever dill pickles.
Shifting gears back to the present, Livvy was sure her dad would not come through for her. He wouldn’t want to approach Grandma, prayer or not. He was too peace-loving for his own good, preferring a stress-free existence. He wouldn’t make waves. She was stuck dealing with Grandma on her own.
She sat there, staring at the stove. All at once, she realized the light was on inside the oven. Getting up, she went to peek inside.
What’s this?
she wondered.
Grandma was baking a cake. Why hadn’t she smelled the sweet aroma when she arrived? Was it possible she’d been so caught up with seeing Kevin Bock?
The more she thought of it, the more she wondered. This was so strange because Grandma was downright funny about cakes. They symbolized a celebration, “only for special occasions,” Grandma often said.
No one in the house was having a birthday. And there were no more wedding anniversaries to be celebrated. So what was going on? Why a cake?
Peering through the oven window, she spotted two round layers. It was obvious Grandma had made lemon cake. Livvy’s mouth watered, imagining the chocolate frosting.
Because of her skating goals, Livvy rarely allowed herself junk food. She never felt she was missing out because the trade-off was worth it. Feeling good, having plenty of energy on the ice—that was far better than the sluggish feeling sugar-laden foods offered.
She knew something was up for Grandma to bake her all-time favorite cake. There had to be a reason. She washed her hands and dried them, then headed upstairs, eager to find out.
Coco was babbling like crazy when she stepped foot in her room. “Birdie-boy miss Livvy,” he was saying.
She went right up to his cage. “I know you missed me, but do you have to be so loud about it?”
“Livvy . . . Livvy . . . Livvy . . .”
“I’m here,” she said. “You can quit now.”
She wandered out of the room into the hallway. Looking in both directions, she noticed that her grandmother’s bedroom door was closed.
She must be resting
, Livvy decided.
Feeling a bit lonely, she headed up the attic stairs. “Dad?” she called softly, hoping not to either awaken Grandma or alarm her father. He could be easily startled while intensely concentrating. “Dad?” she said again, reaching the top of the stairs.
She walked down the hallway that led to the arched threshold. It was the entrance to her father’s off-limits art studio. Not sure if she should knock softly or call to him again, she stood in the wide hallway. The area was large enough to be considered a foyer, a waiting room for a few choice clients. The multicolored braided rug was one her mother had picked out years before. And the navy blue director’s chair had been a birthday present to her dad. From Mom, of course. Her mother was the generous one. Always giving, that was Mom.
Raising her hand to knock, she was surprised when the door opened by itself. “Hi, kiddo,” Dad said, looking a bit disheveled. “How was school?”
“Good.”
He stepped out of the studio and closed the door behind him. “I had a feeling you were sneaking up the steps.”
She smiled. “I wasn’t sneaking; I just didn’t want to wake up Grandma.”
“Oh, Grandma’s not napping. Last I heard, she was going out to do some shopping.”
“Shopping?”
Dad shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t quite get it, either, but she said it was important.”
“And she’s baking a cake, too. So . . . what’s going on?”
Her dad seemed as surprised as she was. “A cake?” He sniffed the air. “Lemon?”
“Yep.”
“Must be a significant date that only Grandma knows,” he said with a faint smile.
Livvy didn’t like the sound of it. Did this mean she’d forgotten something? “Could it be Grandma’s wedding anniversary or something?”
Dad chuckled a little. “Are you talking
my
parents’ anniversary, Liv? Don’t you think I’d remember a thing like that?”
Livvy had to laugh at that. For a moment, she saw a glimpse of the old Dad returning. The before-Mom-died Dad.
The phone rang, interrupting the pleasant moment. “Just a second, Liv.” Her dad disappeared into his studio to answer it. Although he left the door slightly ajar, she decided not to spoil his surprise—whatever it was—and didn’t peek.
Back in the kitchen, the timer ticked away. Livvy was still baffled by the presence of a cake in the oven. And when she opened the freezer, she spied French vanilla ice cream!
“Grandma’s definitely got something up her sleeve,” Livvy said, roaming the kitchen.
She searched for more clues. What could Grandma possibly be thinking? She racked her brain but came up with absolutely nothing. Could it be that Grandma wanted to celebrate the first day of spring?
Livvy wandered into the laundry-utility room. Grandma often did her mending or a sewing project at this end of the house. Homespun and comfortable, the long room had become Grandma’s hideaway. Framed family pictures hung in neat groupings on the wall. A yellow-and-green Tiffany lamp stood near the sewing machine, and a small chair and ottoman filled what had been an empty space in the corner. There was also a rectangular-shaped wicker basket on the desk, where Grandma kept her sewing patterns. Spying the basket, she realized something: The spring skating outfit in question was probably filed away right there.
She began searching, one by one, through the patterns. She noticed a recent skirt pattern of Grand ma’s. And a long dress her grandmother had sewn for Christmas.
When the phone rang, she almost ignored it. But then she remembered Kevin. Dashing to the kitchen, she hoped the caller might be Heather Bock.
“Hello? Livvy speaking,” she answered.
“Liv, I’ve got to talk to you.” It was Jenna.
“What’s up?”
“I was wondering . . . can you come over tonight? Just for a little while?”
She glanced at the oven. “I should probably wait till after supper.”
“You could eat with us,” Jenna urged. “Mom’s nodding her head. Can you, Liv? Please? It’s very important.”
“Why, what’s going on?”
“It’s this Passion play I’m writing,” Jen said. “I need someone to read the parts out loud. I want to hear how they sound.”
Livvy wondered why Jenna couldn’t ask her mom or dad to read the script. But then, they were the proud
new
parents of an adopted baby boy. They were probably busy with little Jonathan Bryan. “Yeah, sure, I guess so.”
“Cool! How soon can you come over?” Jen asked.
“I’ll have to let you know. Can I call you back?”
“Sure.”
Livvy said good-bye and hung up the phone. Then she hurried back to the attic and knocked on the studio door. “Dad? Jenna Song just called. I need to talk to you.” She almost said, “Since Grandma’s not home,” but caught herself.
He opened the studio door. “I suppose you want to go over to Jenna’s?” He seemed tired, distracted.
“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea, since Grandma made a cake. But I’ll come home after supper.”
He nodded. “Before dessert, okay?”
“I promise.” She turned to go, then stopped. “Tell Grandma where I am, okay? And don’t let her freak.”
“I can do that,” said Dad.
“Tell her I have to help Jen with something very important.”