Birdie's Book - Andrea Burden [2]
Halfway through the quiet drive, Mo glanced sideways at me. “Quite a difference from California, I guess?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding.
“I can tell you miss it,” she said.
“Yeah, I do.”
“And this will be your first New Year’s in the snow, I suppose,” she said.
I nodded. I could not find anything positive to say in response to that sorry fact.
“From what your dad says, your mom finally landed her dream job and you had to move to New York. Then, boom, they send her clear to London for that big paper account. But there are upsides, right? First of all, you’re in my neck of the woods, so hopefully we’ll see each other more often. And … aren’t you looking forward to starting at that international school?”
The hand not holding Belle went straight to my mouth, covering my braces. As if thinking about a new school wasn’t bad enough, I still had the brand-new stupid braces to make it worse! “Yeah, I guess,” I said. I wasn’t at all sure. I knew I’d meet girls from all over the world there, so it might be cool at the Girls’ International School of Manhattan. Then again, starting school midyear isn’t something you’d call easy.
Lilium tigrinum was not looking at me or at my braces. She had her eyes glued to the road. The wipers slap-slapped the windshield as she tapped the large steering wheel with her thumbs. “Well, it was definitely high time you visited your grandmother, dontcha think? The last time I saw you in the flesh you were squiggling around in your mom’s arms.”
I knew I should have a snappy, cheerful response to her chitchat, but I couldn’t think of one, so I just gave a sort of snort.
“I’ve been thinking.” My grandmother tried again. “How about calling me Granny Mo? Mo is short for Maureen, and no one else in this whole world calls me Granny. Or do you prefer Grandma Mo? Nana Mo?”
I was afraid she’d keep trying to find the right name, so I said, “I don’t know,” and I turned to gaze out the window at the passing mounds of snow.
Mo fell silent. I was afraid that I’d hurt her feelings, which I didn’t want to do. It’s just that … well, I was already liking my grandmother a hundred times better than I had imagined, so much better than I thought my mom would ever want me to. It felt weirdly like a betrayal to Mom. And if I acted like I liked my grandmother right now, and then she turned out to be a crazy old bat after all, I’d be in trouble.
“I think I’d like to wait till we …” I paused, trying to think of the right words.
“Till we bond?” she asked. She nodded, like it was a decision not to be taken lightly. “Sure. And just Mo is fine, too, if that feels better. It’s what most people call me.” Mo flicked on her turn signal. “What’s your flower’s name?”
“You think I have a name for a plant?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
“Of course!” said Mo. “I know I would.”
Tiny snowflakes swirled past the big windshield, dancing on the butter yellow hood of the big car. Mo turned on the wipers again.
“Belle,” I said, smiling a little.
“Ah. Short for Bellis simplex, no?”
Hmmm. She did get it. “Absolutely,” I told her, my tiny smile expanding, but not enough to show my braces. I drew in a breath of the warm heater air. It was the first deep breath I’d taken since I got off the train.
“We’re here!” Mo announced, turning the car slowly onto a snowy drive that wound between two trees standing like bare-leafed sentries.
“They’re sugar maples,” said Mo, nodding to the two trees. “My own mother planted them for me, fifty-some-odd years ago. Grand, aren’t they?”
“Acer saccharum,” I murmured.
Now it was Mo’s turn to smile. “Speaking of acers,” she said as we continued down the driveway, lined all the way with two rows of smaller trees, “I planted all these moosewoods for your mom, right after she was born.”
Did Mom even care? I wondered. I couldn’t imagine it.
“Emma was four when she said she was happy because she had enough moose