‘Really?’ Olivia had a hard time picturing her grandparents fitting into Franklin Grove life. In fact, she wasn’t sure Franklin Grove was prepared for this level of old-school fabulous. ‘Well, I was supposed to be doing an interview with my classmate, Charlotte, at Mister Smoothie.’ Olivia hesitated. ‘But it might not be the right sort of place for you.’
Olivia’s bio-dad shuddered at the mere mention of the name ‘Mister Smoothie’. She knew he was remembering the utter horror of being forced to dance to the Twist and Shout.
Grandpa crossed his knife and fork over his plate. ‘I’m sure if it’s somewhere you like, then we’ll like it, too. Maybe we could all go there for a drink before you meet your friend,’ he suggested.
Mr Vega shifted in his chair. ‘It’s not exactly a vamp establishment.’
‘Oh, please!’ the Countess hushed her son. ‘We’re five hundred years old. I think we can handle it.’
Ivy shrugged and Olivia knew they were both thinking the same thing. This is going to be either hilarious . . . or horrible.
Chapter Three
Mister Smoothie popped into view like an ominous raincloud – a brightly coloured, very musical raincloud, but a raincloud none the less. Ivy couldn’t believe that she and Olivia were leading their father and grandparents to the least vampy place on earth. But at least her whole family was in one place. It hadn’t been too long since it had just been Ivy and her father. Now, she was part of a big family. I could definitely get used to this, she thought.
A little girl on a tricycle passed them on the sidewalk, and her bright blue helmet swivelled as she stared at Ivy’s grandparents. They looked better prepared to attend a gothic ball than take a stroll outside on the blistering asphalt. The girl stopped peddling, her jaw dropping open.
‘Excuse me.’ The little girl peered up at the Countess. ‘But are you a queen?’
Ivy snorted. Her grandmother did look a bit – ahem – formal for an afternoon stroll.
Grandma chuckled. ‘No,’ she said, smoothing her dark velvet skirt. The fullness of it jutted out from her hips, making her appear majestic and grand. ‘But you’re awfully sweet to think so.’ With a mischievous smile on her face, Countess Lazar dipped into a long, low curtsy, so graceful that Ivy would never have guessed her grandmother was more than five hundred years old! Even the Count looked surprised, and gave a hasty bow to join in.
The door chimed as the entire Lazar–Vega clan trooped into Mister Smoothie. Against the shop’s bright pink and lime-green décor, Ivy’s family stood out like flies in milk. A couple of patrons did double takes, probably because her grandparents and their butler looked like a fancy version of the Addams family. Nobody but the Count would wear a dark red suit in the middle of the afternoon and certainly no man in this decade would sport ruffles!
Ivy raised her hands in a human stop sign. ‘How about we go ahead and order for everyone?’ She didn’t think her dignified grandparents were ready for a round of Mister Smoothie singing, or worse . . . dancing! Order the wrong smoothie and the staff at the shop would serenade the customer with peppy rock songs and choreographed dance numbers. The Count and Countess might have wanted to experience life at Franklin Grove, but Ivy wasn’t sure they needed to experience it all at once.
While Charles and the Lazars went to save them a table, Ivy and Olivia made a beeline for the counter, where machines were swirling with brightly coloured liquids.
‘Which smoothie do you think is the most vampy?’ Ivy asked, craning her neck to study the vibrant menu posted on the wall.
‘I like Beauty-Boosting Blueberry,’ Olivia suggested.
‘Vampy?’
‘Right, not so much. What about a Mocha Choca Latte? That’s dark.’ Olivia offered a lopsided smile. ‘And you guys are, you know, kind of dark too.’
Ivy looked down at her combat boots and black pleated skirt and shrugged. ‘Good a reason as any.’ She waved to the girl in a bubblegum-pink apron behind the counter.
‘Welcome to Mister Smoothie! We hope you’re having a rock-’n’-rolling day!’ The girl grinned at the twins.
Ivy could barely keep from ‘rock-’n’-rolling’ her eyes. ‘We’ll have one Mocha Choca Latte, please.’ She turned to her sister. ‘What else?’
Olivia muttered a few of the smoothie names under her breath as she read out from the menu, trying to decide what their grandparents might like. ‘Oh, I know! Cherry-O!’ exclaimed Olivia, exaggerating a British accent.
‘What was that ?’
‘The smoothie name.’ Olivia pointed. ‘See? Like “Cheerio!” only it’s cherry. Very English, don’t you think? And,’ she said, lowering her voice, ‘the smoothie will be red, just like you-know-what.’
Ivy cocked her head. ‘Like what?’
‘Like, “I want to suck your bl–”’ Olivia twirled her hand as if to encourage her sister to complete the sentence.
‘It’s not as simple as that!’ Ivy swatted at her sister. ‘We’ll take two Tutti Fruttis and two Beauty-Boosting Blueberries.’
Olivia started laughing. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say “Tutti Frutti”.’
Ivy gave a sly look sideways at her sister. ‘Just don’t tell anyone, OK?’ Especially not Brendan, she almost added, but the last thing she needed was to give Olivia any ideas.
‘Can you believe the Transylvanians are here in Franklin Grove, though?’ Olivia glanced over her shoulder towards where their dad and grandparents were sitting erect in the vinyl booth. The Countess’s eyes were wide as she took in the multicoloured surroundings. ‘It’s so . . . so . . .’ Olivia searched for the word. ‘It’s fabulous!’
‘It’s also a little weird,’ Ivy reminded her, just in case her sister was thinking of launching into a backflip, or worse – a cheer.
‘That, too.’ Olivia nodded. ‘But I can’t get over it. We have such a big family now. Can you believe that we were both only-children our entire lives, and now this?’
‘Hey!’ Ivy put her fists on her hips. ‘Did you pickpocket my brain? I was thinking the exact same thing only a minute ago.’
Olivia smiled. ‘You know what would make our family gatherings even bigger?’