Who is this woman? Not the grandmother I know. Maybe this is the Diedre Saint-Martin that Lucky keeps telling me about—Grandma 2.0. Or perhaps Grandma 1.5 with some bugs that need updating. She’s not perfect, by a long shot, but we all have a little growing to do, so I guess this is a start, anyway.

“I need to pay off the window, Grandma.”

“You feel like you still owe a debt? Then pay it back by sticking around and finishing school. Maybe go to college, too? There’s a great art school just up the road. Your mother dropped out, but I think she’d like to see you go all the way.”

“I don’t think so. Mom told me the truth about Henry Zabka—all of it. So I don’t know if that’s the place for me.”

She shakes her head firmly and puts two slender, cool hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me. Don’t let that bastard ruin your dreams. He didn’t invent the camera. You’re talented, kid. If you don’t want to go to that college, then study somewhere else. Find a mentor. Hell, be your own mentor—you can learn anything online these days. Like I’ve told Evie … just do something. Whatever you decide, don’t waste what you’ve got, okay?”

“I’m trying. It’s just hard.”

“I know, baby. If it was easy, any clown would do it. But the Saint-Martins were never scared of a little hard work.” She pats my shoulders and releases me on a long exhale. It’s clear by her body language that this conversation is coming to an end, and suddenly I feel as though this is the longest private conversation we’ve had in years—and yet somehow, she’s not given me nearly enough information.

“Hey, Grandma?” I say. “Was Kat mad? About Lucky taking the fall for me … about smashing the department store window?”

“She’s … confused.”

I groan and put both hands on my hips to keep myself steady, frowning at the picture-postcard view in front of us. “Think I better talk to Lucky.”

“Probably wise.”

“Before the curse has time to sink its teeth into us,” I murmur.

Grandma waves a dismissive hand. “That’s a load of bull. The Saint-Martins aren’t cursed. We just need to stop shutting one another out, that’s all. And this is a start, don’t you think?” She winks at me and heads toward Marblecliff’s lobby, then puts her hand on the doorknob. “Think about the window and tell your mom about staying in the apartment. I’ll text you my condo address. We can have dinner there tonight and discuss what to do about the Nook after I try to kick Franny’s tenants out of their lease.”

“Grandma?” I say, emotions suddenly rising into my throat. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” she says, looking surprised. “Welcome home.”