Graceless (Grace Notes #2)

Annabelle bustled away to go and serve up what Brynn suspected would be a feast, and Cassidy raised her eyes to Savannah again.

“Must be nice, sitting around on your ass all the time and never having to lift a finger.”

Brynn held her breath, but Savannah just sighed and took a seat back on the couch.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’ve never even worked a day in my life.”

“Not real work,” Cassidy scrunched up her nose.

“And what is it you’re doing with your life? Because I tried to send you to college and Mom said you refused.”

“I’m a waitress at the diner.” Cassidy raised her chin defiantly. “College is a pile of elitist crap. I don’t need to be indoctrinated.”

A look of pure fury crossed Savannah’s face for just a second, and again Brynn readied herself for the coming fireworks. Then her wife wilted.

“You really are their kid,” she said softly.

“Because you’re so much better than us.” Cassidy’s lip curled. “Did you go to college? I hear you didn’t even finish high school.”

Savannah’s jaw clenched.

“I would have loved to go to college,” she said quietly. “You could have done anything you wanted to with your life. I’d have made it happen.”

“Oh yeah, Savannah the great,” Cassidy muttered.

“Okay!” Brynn had had about enough. “As delightful as this reunion has been, I believe there’s a burger waiting for you in the dining room.” She all but shooed the young woman into Annabelle’s hands before turning and looking at her wife. “Do you think there’s a chance her mood will improve with her blood sugar?” she tried hopefully.

Savannah let her head fall back in relief as her sister disappeared and Brynn sank down beside her, pressing a kiss into her hair and taking her hand.

“What,” she asked, “the heck is going on?”

“I don’t exactly know.” Savannah looked at her wearily. “The last time I saw her she was this sweet, shy twelve-year-old.”

“She’s none of those things now.”

“You’re not kidding. Ouch!” She winced, and Brynn sat bolt upright. “No, it’s fine, just a kick to the ribs.”

“All the kids in your bloodline have a real attitude,” Brynn told her. “Any chance we can ask Lane to babysit a twenty-four-year-old?”

Chapter Two

“Last one out is a rotten dinosaur egg!” Lane dove down and swam along the bottom of the pool toward the stairs. To their right, Tucker was swimming his heart out. Lane stayed underwater, turning a couple of slow somersaults before surfacing with a spray of water right beside the five-year-old as they hit the first step together, making him shriek.

“Noooo!” Tucker splashed and jumped his way up the stairs as Lane pretended to lose. “Yessss!” The little boy did a cocky victory dance. “You’re the rotten egg!” he shouted gleefully. Lane made a show of sniffing at their own armpits.

“Gross.” They grinned. “Alright, dry up.” They tossed Tucker a towel. Lane dried off next to him. The day was disgustingly hot, but the air on their bare chest felt incredible. After years of wearing binders, they still couldn’t believe the delicious relief top surgery had brought them. They couldn’t help but grin as they looked down at the now well-healed scars and the neatness of their strong pectoral muscles. It almost seemed like a shame to throw a t-shirt on, but they had to get out of the heat and Annabelle always insisted on proper clothing etiquette in the house. They tugged a t-shirt over Tucker’s head too, for good measure.

The blazing sun was so strong that both Tucker and Lane’s board shorts were practically dry by the time they reached the side door. Lane had glanced through the main doors and clocked Brynn and Savannah in some kind of intense conversation in the living room and decided they might appreciate a few more minutes without their son hijacking the situation as only a five-year-old could. Instead, they ducked through into the dining room. Tucker ran straight to Annabelle next door in the kitchen.

“Burgers!” he shrieked with anticipation. Lane was more taken by the person eating the burger.

“Holy shit,” they said. It was like a science fiction movie. Lane’s boss had somehow morphed from a heavily pregnant, polished, rich woman into a grubby young girl.

“What?” She gave Lane a firm stare in return, despite the burger sauce running down her wrist. “Who are you?”

“I’m Lane. I’m the nanny. Are you like, Savannah’s secret love child from back in the day or what?”

“What? Gross! I’m Cassidy.” She frowned as Lane looked blank. “Her sister? And we hardly look alike,” she said adamantly, as if insulted by the idea of looking like a woman who appeared yearly in People Magazine’s Most Beautiful list.