Page 9 of Bitter Rival

My grandmother sighs. “That’s what I was afraid of. But please try to be nice to her. I have a feeling your father was using her in whatever game he was playing.”

I’d considered that too. But until I’m able to track down Astrid’s whereabouts, I won’t know for sure if she’s involved. And with this new development regarding drugs, I’m going to have to watch Daisy more closely. To build a case, I’ll need actual proof.

“I remember her being such a sweet little girl,” my grandmother continues. “She used to follow you around, remember? She looked up to you.”

My grandmother only visited occasionally, so I’m not sure how she even remembers Daisy. “She was only a kid. People change.”

“They don’t change that much.”

I have my doubts about that. Back then, she was still an innocent kid, and I blamed Astrid for my fate, not Daisy. But whoever she is now is a completely different story.

I don’t want to talk about this anymore though, so I deftly change the subject. “How’s everything with you, Grams?”

“Thank you for reminding me. I called to yell at you. How many times do I have to tell you to stop spending your money on me? I can’t accept this. I’m sending it back.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re not sending it back. I already paid for it. Your old car was a piece of shit. It wasn’t safe to drive.”

“It was perfectly fine,” she insists.

My grandmother is the type of person who would say that everything was perfectly fine if we were in the middle of an apocalypse, and the sky was raining nuclear waste.

No matter what shitty cards life deals her, she will always look for the silver lining.

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for myself. I can’t have you calling and crying every time your car breaks down.”

She laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would never call you about that and I certainly wouldn’t cry over it.”

I know. That’s what makes it a joke.

After my father shipped me off to boarding school, he forced my mother out of the house, leaving her with nothing, so she moved in with my grandmother whose already tight budget was spread even thinner.

Whenever I would come home to my grandmother’s shitty little apartment for school breaks, she would scrimp and scrape and deprive herself just so I wouldn’t have to go without.

She only ever wanted the best for me and now that I have the means to make her life easier, she fights me every step of the way.

While I admire her resilience and stubborn optimism, I also think there’s such a thing as being too selfless.

“You either keep the car or I’m buying you a new condo,” I threaten.

She laughs again. “You’re such a bully. You’ve already spoiled me too much.”

“It’s not every day you turn eighty.”

“I still can’t believe I’m going on a cruise. I appreciate it. I really do. But enough is enough, Beck. No more gifts. I mean it. If you buy me anything else, I’ll sell it and donate the money to charity,” she says firmly.

“Who’s being the bully now? Go take a joy ride in your new car. And have fun on your cruise.”

“Oh, you know I will,” she says. “I’ll send photos.”

I have no doubt there will be hundreds of photos but only a handful of decent ones. “I don’t need fifty photos of the food on your plate.”

She laughs. “I love you. And be nice,” she warns. “I think this will be good for you. You work too much. Take some time off to enjoy the vineyard. And give Daisy a chance. She might surprise you,” my grandmother says before we hang up.

She’ll surprise me, all right, but I highly doubt there will be any good surprises in store.

Where would someone go to score drugs? Since I’m not in the habit of meeting dealers in dark alleys, I don’t have a fucking clue, but I get in my car and drive into town anyway.

Sutton Ridge isn’t that big, so after exhausting my search of restaurant and bar parking lots and cruising up and down the main street and back alleys a few times, it’s safe to assume she isn’t here.

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