Graceless - Page 59

Lane looked incredulous, and Brynn laughed too.

“I know, right?” she agreed. “I’m so unbelievably grateful for her. I don’t think any of it was pretty, but Cassidy came through.”

“Huh,” was all Lane managed. Despite the strain between the two sisters, despite the outbursts and the resentment, Lane suddenly found that they weren’t surprised at all.

“Those Grace women.” Brynn shook her head. “They’re something else.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Savannah and Emmeline came home the next afternoon. Over the next week, Cassidy gradually came to realize what Savannah’s offer to let her stay in an apartment had been all about. The house was in chaos. The size of the mansion was no match for tiny Emmeline’s lung power, and on the nights Cassidy was already sleepless, she could hear her incessant cries.

Savannah spent two days and nights weeping, which she kept trying to explain was normal, but everyone around her felt on tenterhooks, unable to soothe either one of them. Midway through the week, everyone seemed to get into some kind of rhythm. Brynn did as much of the nights as she could, waking Savannah only to feed Emmeline, then taking breaks in the day to catch up on sleep. Lane took Tucker for longer hours to give his parents time to focus on the baby.

Cassidy watched her sister. She could see the moments she looked in love and in bliss with her tiny daughter, and the times when she looked like she wanted to scream and run into the hills. Those were the moments she reached out and took her niece, prodding her sister to go and take a shower or sit outside under a tree where no one would disturb her.

And yet because Savannah was Savannah, two weeks after Emmeline’s arrival, she hosted a party. On a Saturday afternoon, Brynn’s mother and sister arrived from California, cooing with excitement to meet the new arrival. Coral and Noah followed shortly after, with what seemed like a literal trailer-load of tiny presents. Savannah’s other band members – Jed and Travis – her manager, Chester, a handful of other musician friends, and a whole assortment of various Nashville luminaries, all descended upon their house for an afternoon garden party to welcome the newest member of the family.

Savannah – pulling off some kind of miracle of support garments and makeup – looked fresh and pretty and sparkling with happiness in a white summer dress, holding a beautifully swaddled baby in her arms and accepting everyone’s congratulations with a glowing smile. Cassidy watched her closely, trying to see evidence of the sister she’d seen the day before – dark circles under her tired eyes, weeping to Cassidy that she looked like a deflated balloon – but she was gone.

“Is she okay, do you think?”

Cassidy looked up to see her sister’s friend Rosalie standing beside her, also surveying Savannah with an assessing gaze. She’d met Rosalie in the kitchen earlier, where they’d both been grabbing drinks. She’d noticed her at once since the other woman had stopped still, staring at her, wide-eyed, like she’d seen a ghost. Then she’d visibly shaken herself, smiled and was introduced before yet another wave of visitors had flooded in. She followed Rosalie’s gaze now to where Savannah was seated in the shade under the willow tree, smiling up at Brynn’s promoter Maggie, Emmeline resting against her shoulder.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “She cries a lot.”

“Hmm,” was Rosalie’s only response. They watched her together in silence for a while. “Early days,” she said after a beat.

“How do you know Savannah?” Cassidy asked her. It wasn’t just small talk. Rosalie was the only other person so far who’d seemed to see right through Savannah’s shield of perfection. She examined her. Rosalie was extremely pretty she realized, though it took a second glance to notice. She seemed about her sister’s age, but there was nothing of the shiny glamor about her that Cassidy associated with being in the industry.

“We’re old friends,” Rosalie told her. “She can’t sneak shit past me,” she added with a smile. Then her head jerked up. “Lane!”

Cassidy watched as Lane looked up from across the lawn. She swallowed as they came closer. They were wearing a crisp white t-shirt, the short sleeves slightly rolled up like a young James Dean, and their smile as they saw Rosalie was a little shy. Cassidy wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen a more perfect looking human in all her life. A sharp feeling of wistfulness almost took her breath away.

“Hey,” Lane said as they arrived and Rosalie pulled them into a hug.

“I’ve just been meeting Cassidy,” she said and immediately, before both their eyes, Lane went bright red. Cassidy had no idea what to make of that.

“Yeah,” Lane said, their eyes skittering over the two of them before they looked away. Rosalie smiled broadly.

“Are we on for next weekend?” she asked. Lane nodded, their face squinting slightly as if there was something incredibly interesting about the buffet table on the back patio. “Lane volunteers at the center,” she told Cassidy, as if that should mean something.

“The center?”

“The Rachel Carlson Center,” Rosalie added. “The one Savannah funds?” Cassidy nodded as if she knew, but Rosalie saw through her. “It’s for queer and gender diverse youth,” she told her. “I’m the director. We look after kids who’re homeless or at risk of homelessness, or who are vulnerable in other ways because of who they are.”

“Oh.” Cassidy felt weird, like Rosalie would just magically know somehow of her missteps around all the queer people she was suddenly surrounded by. “And what does Lane do?” she asked, almost as a diversion, though she was curious. Lane responded to being talked about as though it wasn’t happening, looking more interested in how the grass was growing than the conversation. Rosalie looked from one to the other.

“Lane,” she said fondly, “is my star protégé. They teach an art class, though it’s really just a guise for an outreach session. And they mentor young people who need a Lane in their life.”

“Huh,” she said. Cassidy didn’t especially want that image in her head, of Lane being sweet and doing sweet things. She tried to tell herself she didn’t personally need a Lane in her life, but it felt unconvincing.

“Anyway,” said Lane, who seemed wildly uncomfortable. Cassidy figured it was because of the proximity to her, not Rosalie; she’d seen the spark of happiness in their eyes as they’d looked up and seen the woman. She was just about to excuse herself to let them catch up, unimpeded by her unwelcome presence, when Lane said “I gotta-” and without even finishing the excuse, darted off after Brynn.

Rosalie didn’t seem offended. She watched Lane disappear with a small smile. Then she turned to Cassidy.

“Lane,” she said evenly, “is a wonderful person.” Cassidy held back a sigh. It was just her luck to be stuck at the party with a Lane enthusiast. “But they can be a little gun-shy. It’d be worth it, though, if you want it to be.”

Cassidy stared at her. She knew. Suddenly Lane’s awkwardness made sense to her, as her own face flushed hot. God, that buffet table really was fascinating.