Page 2 of Symphony for Lies (Tangled Truths #2)

“Grandma, I’m home!” I called out as I stepped inside the house.

“There you are!”

I glanced up while putting on my house slippers and smiled at the petite woman standing before me.

My grandmother, Evelyn, was nearly two heads shorter than me.

Her short, gray hair was softly curled, and she wore a pink nightgown with large pockets where she always kept crochet projects tucked away.

“I’ll warm up dinner for you, my child,” she said, already turning toward the kitchen.

I reached out, gently catching her arm.

Even though I was already twenty-four, she still called me her child , and I had a feeling she always would.

I wrapped my arms around her.“You don’t have to do that.”

She immediately hugged me back, her warmth seeping into my body and wrapping me in comfort and the familiar scent of vanilla. I pressed in closer, needing the embrace more than I wanted to admit.

She started gently tapping my back, but then she sneezed—once, then twice. By the third time, I instantly pulled away.

“Oh my God! I’m sorry. I’ll go wash up. ”

My grandmother had a pet allergy, and since I had just returned from work, it was likely I had traces of fur or dander on my clothes.

“It’s alright,” she reassured, but when she sneezed again, she placed a finger under her nose.

She shooed me toward the stairs, but I lingered for a second as she walked into the kitchen.

I listened carefully, waiting for any more reactions.

But when I heard her blowing her nose, followed by the soft clatter of dishes, I exhaled in relief and hurried upstairs, making a quick stop in my room to set the rose and concert tickets on my desk before heading straight for the bathroom.

Our home was small but cozy, with two floors. Downstairs, we had the living room, laundry room, and kitchen. Upstairs were the bedrooms—mine and grandma’s—along with a single bathroom. We also had a small garden where my grandma lovingly tended her flowers.

When my grandfather passed away, the house hadn’t been fully paid off. I couldn’t let my grandmother shoulder the burden alone, so I started taking multiple jobs.

I had given up so much throughout my whole life—new clothes, vacations, free time, even my music education. I loved music. But how could I have justified spending what little money we had on piano lessons?

Once I was done in the shower, I changed into something comfortable and wrapped a towel around my damp hair. I had no energy to dry it. All I wanted was to eat something and go straight to bed.

Temporarily refreshed, I trudged downstairs to the kitchen, where a bowl of soup and a few small sandwiches were already waiting for me on the dining table.

I dropped into the chair beside my grandmother and quickly kissed her cheek.“Thank you.”

“Of course, my child. Now, eat up. But afterward, you’d better dry your hair, or you’ll catch a cold.”

I giggled, expecting her to say that. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

She rolled her green eyes. “What would your mother think of me if you got sick?”

“Mom would know it’s my own fault,” I joked.

“What am I going to do with you?” she sighed, shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine. It’s not that cold yet, and besides, I never get sick easily.” I waved her concern away, digging into the delicious vegetable soup.

“You’re impossible.” After a brief pause, Grandma whispered, “May Sarah’s soul rest in peace.” She reached for a sandwich, taking a small bite.

Whenever my grandmother mentioned my mother, I never felt sad.

She had only ever spoken of her in the best way possible, ensuring I knew Sarah had loved me more than anything.

But I had no memories of her. My parents had died in a car accident when I was just a baby. I was the only one who survived.

“How was your day?” I asked, steering the conversation away.

Her face instantly brightened. “Oh, it was wonderful! So many familiar faces stopped by the shop today, and we had lovely chats.”

She dove into the latest neighborhood gossip, and I listened intently while finishing my food.

Interrupting her with a smirk, I teased, “Did you actually work today, or were you just gossiping?”

She gasped dramatically before playfully swatting my shoulder. “Of course, I worked!”

My grandmother owned a small tailor shop called Magic Stitch , which my grandfather gave her as a gift on their silver anniversary. He had secretly saved up for years to buy her the shop and rented all the equipment she needed because he knew how much she loved sewing.

He had loved her deeply, always showing it through grand gestures. For their ruby anniversary two years ago, he had surprised her with tickets for a cruise.

But they never got to go. He passed away peacefully in his sleep just days before the trip.

She never took that cruise. Instead, she framed the ticket and placed it in the living room, keeping it as a memory of their life together.

“Earth to Amelia! Are you even listening to me?” She waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was just telling you about Mrs. Thompson,” she huffed. “You know, the housekeeper for the Cole family? She said Zane is back.”

For a second, I completely lost track of what she meant.“Who?”

Grandma squinted at me. “Zane Cole? The man you admire! The handsome violinist?”

I rolled my eyes. “I only admire his playing. Not him.”

“Sure, sure.” She waved me off. “Anyway, he’s back. He worked abroad for his father for a while, but now he’s taking over the Aurora Gallery. You’ve been tutoring at the Coles’ house these past few days. Haven’t you heard any news?”

Indeed, I was tutoring their twelve-year-old son, Simon. He struggled a lot with math and needed help with history, geography, and—ironically—even music. Our sessions were intense, and I focused entirely on him whenever I was there. So, I had no time for gossip.

Originally, I had started tutoring a coworker’s daughter. Her grades improved drastically, and word quickly spread about my lessons’ effectiveness. More and more parents began reaching out. Before I knew it, I was tutoring multiple kids weekly in a rented classroom at the local school.

A few months back, Mr. Cole approached me personally, asking if I could tutor Simon twice a week at their home. I gladly took the opportunity—the Coles paid well.

I could’ve taken a different path. I had always been at the top of my class and probably could’ve gotten a scholarship.

But I wanted to start earning money quickly and stay close to my grandmother.

That’s why I entered a veterinary assistant program after high school, and the tutoring had become a welcomed additional income.

“No, I didn’t hear anything,” I admitted.

“What a shame… but…! I heard Zane will be making a guest appearance on Friday!” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. “And apparently, Tristan Lane is upset about it because now he has competition again.”

“Oh… wait! So, if Zane is taking over the gallery, does that mean he’s quitting music?”

“That’s what people are saying…” Grandma leans in conspiratorially. “So, if you still want to impress him, we’re dressing up on Friday and getting tickets!” She jumped up and clapped her hands. “I noticed he has been staring at you! Oh! I made you a dress! I want you to wear it! Zane will love it.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Grandma! I don’t have a crush on him! And he surely won’t notice me. There’ll be so many people there.”

But it was useless trying to convince her. Grandma was utterly convinced that Zane had taken an interest in me. She tended to exaggerate everything––but I loved her too much to let it bother me.

“Oh… that reminds me! I got tickets from Tristan.”

My grandmother’s clapping stopped instantly, her expression shifting into an unimpressed frown. “ Him again?” She sighed, “I don’t know why, but I don’t like that guy.”

I grinned. “I don’t get it. Why don’t you like him? He’s a bit better than Zane, isn’t he?”

She clicked her tongue and wagged a finger. “Let me tell you something. Those blue eyes? They mean trouble. Too attractive.”

I wasn’t sure if she meant it as a compliment or an insult, but one thing was clear, she strongly disliked Tristan. Even in the past, she didn’t want me to spend too much time with him.

Chuckling, I got up, gathered the dishes, and washed them. Afterward, I joined my grandmother in the living room to watch her favorite soap opera. She had probably watched the episode a hundred times before but still gasped and clutched her chest as if it were her first time.

At some point, she turned to me and asked about my day.

But I lied. I didn’t want to scare her. And I definitely didn’t want her worrying about the recent pet poisoning cases.

When my lids grew heavy, I wished her goodnight and headed upstairs to my room, where I collapsed into bed and fell asleep almost instantly.