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name isn’t Tillithia Mae Evans.”
    She cocked one of her heavy legs in front of the other and waved in her best Miss Black America way, the frying pan dangling in the other hand. I didn’t even try to hide my laugh. She was crazy. I was her only grandchild and I’d been calling her Tilly since birth. Every time I messed up and aged her, she called me on it. Tilly wanted to be young forever.
    “Nothing’s wrong, Tilly,” I told her. “My first impression wasn’t so good today. I made such a fool of myself in front of Amir.”
    “Oh? You still thinking about him?” she asked, smirking.
    She had to know that knocking over a canned beans display at the grocery wasn’t one of my finer moments. I certainly wouldn’t be able to forget about it anytime soon.
    Tilly went back to the chicken and hummed “Open My Eyes, Lord” as she worked. She always hummed church songs while she cooked. Tilly once told me the Lord’s angels had a direct hand in her food creations, and sometimes the angels actually seasoned her food. I listened to her hum as I set the table.
    When we sat down to eat, Tilly said a quick prayer and then I scooped some greens she had boiled onto each of our plates. Tilly sat quietly and watched me.
    “It wasn’t so bad, Tash,” Tilly said. “People knock things over at the grocery all the time.”
    “But I nearly took down the entire display in front of him,” I said, wincing slightly at the sound of my own whining.
    “Girl, please,” she laughed. “You’re being silly. I’m sure Amir had a good laugh and then forgot all about you.”
    Great, I didn’t want him to forget me; just that I was a huge klutz.
    I finished my greens and the rest of my thigh piece.
    “You know you have to be ready for whatever’s in store for you here?” she asked quietly. Tilly could say so much without saying much at all. I loved that about her. Working at Amber’s Place wasn’t going to be easy for me and we both knew it. Making a mess in front of Amir should have been the least of my worries. Walking into a teen crisis center was going to require a different type of first impression than I’d ever prepared for.
    “Yeah, I know, Tilly.”
    Tilly handed me a wineglass and filled it with iced tea.
    “Let’s make a toast,” she said, raising her own glass against mine, “to new beginnings and a summer full of learning and love.”
    After we finished eating, I cleared the dishes from the table, while Tilly started to wash. She handed me a bowl to dry.
    “You have your first impression picked out for tomorrow?” she asked when we were all done. Tilly volunteered at Amber’s Place four days a week. I was going to help her starting first thing in the morning.
    “Yeah, I have it,” I said.
    “Well, go ahead and put it on,” she said.
    Tilly had pink curtains on her bedroom window that matched her bedspread. She was the matching queen. Her bedroom was almost as bad as her kitchen. She even had pink lining on some of the hangers in her closet. I shook my head and put on the white tank top and red skirt. I twirled around in front of the vanity mirror and waited for the tips of the skirt to catch up to me. Tilly clapped from the doorway.
    “You look great, Tash,” she said, “but there’s something missing. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
    She looked me over from head to toe and I did, too. Everything was in place as far as I could tell. When I turned back to look at Tilly, she held out a blue jewelry box to me.
    “Tilly, you didn’t have to get me anything,” I told her, opening the box.
    “I know it, and that’s why you’ll be giving these bad boys back,” she said, laughing. “My mother gave these to me, I gave them to your mother, and she is passing them on to you. Hopefully, they’ll bring you some luck tomorrow.”
    Tilly closed the clasp around my wrist of the most beautiful freshwater pearl bracelet I’d ever seen.
    “Tilly,” I asked, touching the pearls, “you really think I