Ripple by Heather Smith Meloche

though you didn’t go to U of M.” The remark is for me, I know.
    â€œYes. I did succeed,” Grandma Leighton says in measured tones. “But the odds were against me. A mediocre education or, worse yet, no education after high school generally equates to no money. And no money, of course, means one must rely on others for support for, say . . . housing.”
    My mother sucks in a loud breath, and I bristle. My stepdad’s gaze drops to his hand clenched around his beer.
    Grandma Leighton ignores my parents, keeping her focus on Juliette and me and even Willow and Serena, who are paying close attention to her. “You girls should learn how to take care of yourselves. Many of the women I grew up with wanted to find a man and get their MRS degree, as it’s said. My father expected it of me, and I did what he wanted and quickly divorced.”
    She shakes her head in resentment, then raises an elegant finger at me. “But, Tessa Leighton”—she stresses my last name, legally different from my parents’, from Willow’s—“I want you, dear, to be self-reliant. It’s fine to have a boyfriend to go out and have fun with, especially one as handsome as your current one. But don’t ever expect him to take care of you. If you get the right education and play things correctly, you shouldn’t have to
need
anyone.”
    â€œWell,” Mom says. “You’ve sure been very successful with your business, Spencer.” My stepdad’s nostrils flare with Mom’s kiss-ass comment.
    â€œI have,” Grandma Leighton says. “And now I want to ensure that Tessa, as the next girl in line, gets her education from the University of Michigan and takes over Leighton Custom Homes when I retire. With women buying more homes, continuing to have a female CEO will make LCH more appealing.”
    My grandmother gives a well-bred smile and raises her glass of lemonade in my direction. I bite the inside of my lip, try to breathe despite the tension and the fear that I can’t live up to everything she wants me to be.
    â€œWhat if Tessa doesn’t want to take over Leighton Custom Homes?” Juliette asks point-blank.
    My grandmother pins her with a stare. “This is an opportunity very few people in this world get, and though it might be difficult for Tessa sometimes, we all make sacrifices. To have a comfortable life.” Her gaze shifts, past my parents, to land on me. “To make those around us comfortable. The benefits outweigh the burdens. And I believe in you, darling.”
    Behind her massive eyeglasses, her small eyes are framed in a thousand wrinkles, and something in me melts. Because beneath it all, she is my grandmother. Her affection might be gilded, marble-cold, and layered with cash. But her hands, holding her precious family business, are thrust toward me. I just don’t care about it the way she wants me to.
    â€œI’m sure it will all work out,” Juliette says. She forces her own smile. “I mean, everyone finds their path eventually, right?”
    Grandma Leighton gives a small scoffing laugh. “I disagree,darling. Some of us are eternally wandering off the path.” She glares at my stepdad while he swigs long and hard from the open mouth of his beer bottle.
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    It’s been seven hours since lunch, and my stepdad’s been yelling since my grandmother left.
    â€œLet’s just get the fuck out of this house and rent an apartment,” he says to Mom.
    From my bedroom, I listen to him stalk around the living room. Realize I’ve grabbed my camera, my fingers curving around its body in a comforting, soothing way. I haven’t taken photos lately, haven’t had the chance. But it’s times like this when I want to pull myself from the moment, crawl right into my pictures and paintings and lose myself there. When I see a shot that’s