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"Melody, you're getting yourself all worked up. Come on," he urged.

"Do me a favor," Grandma Belinda said when I stood up. "Just go over there and ask Mr. Mandel to come back. Tell him I need him right away."

"He'll come back to you, Grandma," I said. "You're much prettier than she is."

"I am?" She brightened again and nodded. "Yes, I am much prettier, aren't I?" she agreed, brushing the sides of her hair with her palms. "He'll see that. She's got that mole on her chin with tiny hairs. I don't even have many wrinkles, do I?" She turned to us, raising her face to the sunlight, her eyes closed, her lips pursed like a young flirt.

"No, Grandma, you don't," I said and touched her cheek. She opened her eyes and gazed up at me.

"You look like an angel now," she said. "Your mother must be very proud of you."

"She is," Cary said quickly. "Very proud."

"That's nice. That's the way it should be."

She turned back to glare in Mr. Mandel's direction. Cary tugged my hand and I stood up beside him. "She'll be all right," he said.

"You're right," I said. I leaned over and gave her a kiss on her cheek, but she didn't notice. Her gaze was locked on Mr. Mandel. "Bye Grandma. I'll come back. I promise."

"Don't forget the cookies," she called as we started away. I looked back at her once before we left the garden. Mr. Mandel had left the other woman and was hobbling down the path toward her and she looked very contented, very happy.

"Maybe it's time you started thinking more about yourself, about us," Cary said as we left the rest home. "Maybe it's time we both looked to the future and not to the past, huh?"

"Maybe," I agreed, but I wasn't as confident as he was that the past would let us do that.

I said nothing to Grandma Olivia about her visit to the rest home. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had once again gotten her way. When she asked about my visit, I said it was fine and left it at that. If I was Jo survive in her world, I had to learn to play the game her way. For the time being, I would pretend to be the young woman she wanted me to be.

The next day, as Grandma Olivia had promised, Miss Burton arrived at the house to begin my education in etiquette, making me feel from the start that I wasn't much better than some hick who had just arrived on these precious Cape Cod shores. I was sure it was how Grandma Olivia had described me to her.

She called me down to the parlor and

introduced me.

"Miss Burton, I'd like you to meet my granddaughter, Melody," Grandma Olivia said, and I looked at the tall, thin woman who stood so straight, I thought she had a steel rod for a spine. She had very small shoulders, the bones of which pressed up sharply against the dark blue cotton dress that hung over her body in a straight line. Its hem reached her ankles and it was buttoned at the collar.

Miss Burton said nothing but held out her hand.

"Hi," I offered, shook her hand quickly, backed away and looked at Grandma Olivia, whose head bobbed slightly in approval.

"Until school begins, Miss Burton will meet with you promptly at nine A.M. each weekday morning. After school begins, you will arrange your schedules accordingly."

"For how long?" I asked.

"For as long as it takes to turn you into a lady," Grandma Olivia replied curtly.

"I think I am a lady," I returned. Grandma Olivia grinned coldly and looked at Miss Burton.

"As you see, you have a real challenge here, Louise." "I'm sure we'll do what we can," Miss Burton said, still scrutinizing me intently.

"Then I'll leave you to begin. I know you need all the time allotted for your lesson. And then some," Grandma added and walked out of the parlor. For a moment Miss Burton and I just looked at each other, sizing each other up like two combatants. Then she cleared her throat and took a step toward me as if someone had given her a shove from behind.

"I can help you only if you want to be helped," she said grimly.

"I don't think I need to be helped," I replied honestly, since she wanted to be frank.

"Oh, my dear," she said smiling and shaking her head, "you most definitely need to be helped."

"Really?" I said dryly. "And how can you tell so quickly, or are you basing everything on what my grandmother has told you about me?"


Tags: V.C. Andrews Logan Horror