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At least, she hoped they were snoozing.
    Past the game room a muffled hint of music and counting suggested dance lessons or a workout of some sort. The scent of chlorine—evident even under the stronger odors of furniture polish and Old Spice—made her think a swimming pool or spa tub lurked behind one of the doors off the main corridor. Finally, she found an empty room with a few shelves of books and settled in to wait. But Bobbi, the desk attendant, was right on her heels.
    “Hazel will be right down, Ms. Jessup.” Bobbi straightened a few of the books on the built-in shelves. “She’s going to be so excited to see you. She and her friend, Ruby, love Acting Up .”
    “Really?” Surprised, Annamae knew the over-sixty demographic wasn’t the one that producers targeted with the show. Did Hazel watch to keep tabs on her granddaughter? Or was the older woman even aware of their connection? After Delilah’s lies about the Smith family, Annamae couldn’t be sure how much they knew about her.
    “They were all up in arms when your youngest sister cheated on her psychology final exam last year.” The woman leaned into the doorjamb, launching into a diatribe about favorite scenes from Annamae’s last season.
    “She didn’t really cheat.” One of many ways the editing process worked to the director’s advantage.
    But the desk attendant didn’t hear her while she chattered about how upset her fiancé and parents must be over the broken engagement. She never mentioned anything about Hazel having a family connection to anyone on the show, so Annamae felt certain either Hazel was unaware or purposely hadn’t shared the information.
    Interesting either way.
    “Bobbi, did you call for me?” An older woman appeared in the hallway outside the door. Head wrapped in a white towel like a turban, she wore a yellow and purple caftan covering her whole body from slender shoulders to dainty feet in flip-flops with daisies between the toes.
    The woman looked as if she’d been in the middle of a sauna or a massage, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, every wrinkle exposed. Still, her skin was lovely, all things considered. The crow’s feet around her eyes only made the vivid blue of her irises more striking. The laugh lines around her mouth settled into comfortable places as she smiled, and for a moment she didn’t look any older than Annamae’s mother.
    “Hi, Ms. Smith.” Annamae stepped forward, suddenly nervous. As she walked closer she realized her grandmother was taller than her. “I’m Annamae and I’m—”
    “I know exactly who you are, darlin’.” The older woman’s smile widened as she reached past Bobbi to stroke her granddaughter’s cheek.
    Annamae’s eyes went misty and despite the mess of her over-processed hair, the guilt of her break up and the refusal of Heath Lambert to be her landlord, she was so glad she’d come to Beulah. She couldn’t believe she’d been deprived of her grandmother her whole life.
    Leaning back, Hazel Mae clasped her hands to her chest for an emotionally charged moment before glancing over her shoulder.
    Once Bobbi had disappeared and the hallway was empty, the older woman stepped deeper into the room, dragging Annamae with her. She clutched Annamae’s arm with two hands, her eyes narrowing.
    “What in Sam Hill are you doing here?”

Chapter Three
    ‡
    A nnamae stumbled back against a coffee table at her grandmother’s harsh tone. Not that she should be surprised… hadn’t Delilah insisted the alligator hunter’s mother was mean as a snake? But right up to this second she hadn’t realized how much she’d been hoping her mother had lied about that, as she’d hidden so many things about Annamae’s father and his family.
    “I don’t understand—” she began, uncertain and regretting ever coming to Beulah. “I thought—”
    “How kind of you to want to volunteer!” Hazel Mae exclaimed loudly, turning her head as if to project her voice as far as possible.