Amelia Davidson, who had been playing around, now sat tensely on the side, ears perked up, ready to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"Grandma! Uh, no! Madison!" Logan Harrington was evidently flustered.
"Don't be nervous, child!" Mrs. Harrington slowly raised her wine glass towards the moon, her gaze so intense it seemed as though she could see something magical and mesmerizing within the glass.
"How have you been? You never have time to come and see this old lady!" Mrs. Harrington complained.
"Oh, look at you! You're glowing, your skin is better than mine, and your figure is a hundred times more fabulous. How can you call yourself an old lady?" Logan's words were as sweet as honey, making Mrs. Harrington beam with delight.
