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My mouth falls open. “Mrs. Renshaw—”
“Now, now. Don’t you try to tell me no, child. I want you to have it.”
The gold necklace in my hand glitters in the light, casting yellow flecks onto my fingertips like a tiny disco ball.
“I inherited that a few years back from my aunt Rosalyn. It’s supposed to be a horseshoe, for good luck, but it always looked more like a rainbow to me.” Mrs. Renshaw smiles at me with pride in her full cheeks, but I have no idea what I did to deserve it.
“Thank you so much. Really. But I can’t accept this.”
“Oh, pssh. You can, and you will. I don’t need that old thing. I got everything I need right here.”
Mrs. Renshaw glances from me to her children and then over at her husband, who is still standing. He’s leaning on a display shelf with most of his weight on his good leg, but still.
“Jimbo,” I yell, snapping my fingers at Carter’s dad. “You’d better get off that leg right now.”
Mr. Renshaw chuckles and reluctantly takes a seat. “Why are y’all givin’ her all these presents when she’s so damn mean to me?”
“We’re givin’ her all these presents because she’s mean to you, Jimbo. Heck, a few more weeks with her around, and you might even start cleanin’ up after yourself.” Mrs. Renshaw wags her finger at her husband.
Carter reaches over and takes the necklace out of my hand, and I hold my breath as he unclasps it with fingers almost too large for the task.
“Woman, I do plenty around here—”
The Renshaws launch into one of their spirited fake fights as Sophie giggles in delight. No one is watching as Carter reaches out and slides the ends of his great-aunt’s necklace around my neck. No one sees my discomfort as his fingers skate along my skin and disappear under my dark hair.
And when Mrs. Renshaw takes the flashlight out of her daughter’s hand and shines it in her husband’s face, no one notices the way I cringe and step back when Carter leans forward and whispers, “Happy birthday, Rainbow Brite. We love you. I—”
“What the hell are you doin’, woman?”
“I just thought you might want a spotlight to go with that speech you rehearsed!”
Carter is looking at me expectantly, his hands resting on either side of my neck, as something almost imperceptible pulls my attention toward the hallway.
I turn my head slightly, staring off into the darkness of the back of the store as I listen for the sound of footsteps or voices behind me. Instead, I hear something that strikes a chord deep in my soul. A familiar tone, low and constant. Then another, in a slightly higher pitch. Then, one that bends from low to high, like a cresting wave.
“I … I gotta go,” I say, stumbling toward the sounds and out of Carter’s grasp. “Thank you for the birthday party.”
Carter calls after me, but I’m laser-focused on finding the source of those notes. Into the darkened hall I sprint, looking left and right until I determine that the sound is definitely coming from the atrium.
More notes float through the air. I can barely hear them from here, but they fill me with hope and dread at the same time.
Bow, bow, bow, bummmmmmm.
As I get closer to the atrium, I notice that the fountain seems to be glowing. There’s a haze of amber light all around it and a scent in the air that I know by heart.
Because I picked it out myself.
Bath and Body Works Warm Vanilla Sugar candles.
Rain
The aromas and sounds of home assault my senses as I fight with myself to stay in control.
Don’t do this. Not now. Not here.
My chest tightens. I take deeper breaths, but the air’s not getting in.
Don’t panic. It’s just a smell. A smell can’t hurt you.
