No Place Like Homecoming

No Place Like Homecoming


Maggie Dallen


Copyright © 2021 by Maggie Dallen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Image © Shutterstock - Roman Samborskyi
Cover Design © Designed with Grace
Created with Vellum


Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Never Have I Ever Land
About the Author


One
Isla
I stared out my aunt’s car window at the looming mansion on the hill. “You’re kidding, right?” I said. “You don’t actually expect me to crash a wedding.”
I had a whole lot of firsts going on in my life, including a new school and a new town, but crashing a wedding?
Officially adding that item to the list.
My aunt’s laugh grated on my nerves. I’d just met the lady this morning when she’d picked me up at the airport, but I already knew we weren’t going to get along. But that was fine because despite my father’s threats to send me away for my entire senior year, I knew I wouldn’t actually be here that long.
“You’re not crashing,” my aunt said from the driver’s seat of her old Dodge Intrepid, which looked totally out of place on this street full of McMansions and BMWs. Aunt Lucy’s ride was the sort of crappy grandma car that felt more like a tank. This was fitting in so many ways. Aunt Lucy was old enough to be my grandma since she was technically my great aunt, but mostly, it fit because she had the personality of a wartime military general. “Mrs. Messner is expecting you,” she continued. “Now, get your scrawny butt out of this car before I kick you out.”
See what I mean? Lovely.
I turned to face her, this woman who shared no resemblance to me and had absolutely nothing in common with my mother. My mom would never have let those gray strands see the light of day, and leaving the house without even a speck of makeup? There was no way I was actually related to this woman.
I peered at her now. “Are you sure you’re not just some babysitter my parents hired to look after me?”
Her lips twitched and her green eyes—the only physical trait we shared—sparkled with laughter for the first time since she’d met me at the terminal. “Trust me, kid. Your parents couldn’t pay me enough to put up with your attitude.”
I smirked at the A-word. Not one full day into this family visit from hell and I was already being accused of having an attitude. “So you’re not getting paid, huh? That was some terrible negotiating on your part. Relative or not, my dad would have paid top dollar to have me out of his hair.”
Her expression shifted, and I drew back in response. Oh, no. Not the look. I knew that look. It was the same one my nannies and teachers used to give me when my parents had failed to show for recitals and parent teacher conferences. I hated that look.
She recovered quickly, I’d give her that. “We’re family.”
I widened my eyes as I waited for her to expound on that totally meaningless remark. She didn’t. We’re family. That was it. End of explanation.
“Okay, then,” I drawled when it became obvious she wasn’t going to say more. Jerking my thumb toward the ridiculously gaudy mansion behind me, I tried one last time to get out of this. “I still don’t see why I have to crash a wedding my first day in town.”
Aunt Lucy gave an exasperated sigh that had her long, dark bangs fluttering. The woman needed a trim and highlights in the worst possible way.
“I told you, Isla. It’s not crashing. Mrs. Messner knows you’re coming.”
“Mrs. Messner. Right. My new...boss.” Disgust laced my voice, and misery must have been written all over my face, because Aunt Lucy cackled.
Like, seriously cackled. Give this woman a broomstick and a black hat, and she’d make the perfect wicked witch.
“No one’s forcing you, kid,” she reminded me. “You’d rather bag groceries down at the Main Street Market, that’s fine by me.”
She made it sound like I honestly had a choice. Until my mother talked some sense into my dad and they brought me back home where I belonged, I was entirely at this woman’s mercy. She’d made it clear on the ride from the airport that if I didn’t get a job, she wouldn’t let me borrow her car or lend me so much as a nickel.
This normally wouldn’t have been a big deal—I had money. I had plenty of money. It was just that all my money was currently being held hostage as part of my parents’ Operation Rehabilitation.
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t want to have a job. None of my friends have to work.”
“None of your friends got caught shoplifting, either.”
My lips curled up in a sneer. “It was one lipgloss. And it was a dare.”
How many times did I have to explain that to these people?
Aunt Lucy shrugged. “Stealing is stealing. And your parents sent you here—”
“For my own good,” I finished for her. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve only heard them say that about twelve thousand times, but thanks for the reminder.”
I reached for the door handle. Whatever awkwardness was to come would be better than hearing another lecture on my bad attitude.
“Good luck,” she called after me as I shoved open the passenger door and stepped onto the manicured lawn leading up to the giant house atop the hill.
Luck. As if I needed it. The job was all but mine, thanks to Aunt Lucy’s friendship with this Mrs. Messner lady. She owned the Princess Troupe—and yes, that was a completely ridiculous name for a supremely lame company that provided costumed characters for kids birthday parties and other events. Including weddings, apparently.
I eyed the