“Sometimes the arrow drifts off screen so you can’t see it. You just have to jiggle.”

“Jiggle it. I see.” Her grandmother wrote it in her notes. “You’re just brilliant, darling. Oh, this has helped me out so much.”

“Of course, G. I’m still really impressed you’ve joined the computer age.” G wasn’t just her grandmother but also one of Joey’s main confidantes—the reason, in fact, why Joey had moved back to Florida. As she waded further into her as yet single, childless, career-floundering thirties, it was strangely harder to endure her grandmother’s ascension through her nineties.

“It was time. Doris says there’s far more to conquer. Something called Instaham. It turned her into a deer, I think. She said her skin never looked so luminous.”

“Instagram.” Joey smiled. “We’ll do stories together, for sure, but can we save the lesson for next time? I need to sketch tonight.” The lie filled her with guilt, but Joey had to get out of there. Go to her favorite beach. Dip in the sea. Get out of her head.

“Okay, dear. But have some strawberries first, how about it?”

“I wish I could stay for strawberries, but I can’t today.”

G cocked her head. She had a keen sixth sense for trouble, always trying to ferret out the illness she suspected you were keeping from her. Just earlier on the phone, Joey had coughed, and G had accused her of having bronchitis when really Joey had just choked a bit on her smoothie. “You aren’t having those panic attacks again, are you, Joey?”

“I’m not.” Joey swallowed hard. “I promise.”

G’s forehead released some of its ripples. “Thank God. We don’t want to go back there, no siree! I’m so excited for your wedding, darling. My robe’s all ready to go.” G had gotten it specially made for when they’d be getting ready pre-ceremony, with GRANDMAMA OF THE BRIDE in Swarovski crystals on the back. “And Grant is just wonderful. Any new moles that pop up, he said I can call him. Any moles at all!”

Joey bit back a smile. G’s name had been lighting up Grant’s screen with increasing regularity. What Joey was to G’s computer illiteracy, dermatologist Grant was now to G’s rapid detection of new moles.

“He’s the best,” Joey said, and gripped the evil eye charm in her dress pocket.

Grant was the best. Really, really.

“Good luck on your sketching, love. I’m so proud of you.” The lies were thick in Joey’s stomach now, lodged there like cement. “And we’ll do the miracle face masks again before the wedding?”

“Definitely.”