India moaned. “Gran, it’s disgusting, let me die of the flu in peace.”“I doubt very much you’re suffering from the flu,” her grandmother said.India cracked an eye to look at the only woman in her life she could call mom. Etta Newton had her gray hair in soft curls that fell to her shoulder. Her eyes held concern and merriment, and her face was still smooth even though a hint of age was starting to show. At sixty-six Etta still dated and thought she was in the prime of her life. Both she and Brownie, Mikael’s grandmother, took regular dance classes and went to the gym. They didn’t seem to slow down with age but instead got bolder as they progressed.“What do you mean Gran? It’s the flu.” India cracked an eye open and looked at her grandmother. “The flu, right? I don’t have Ebola, do I? You didn’t bring back any tropical disease that’s going to cause the CDC to quarantine our house?”Gran snorted. “I doubt I was there when you caught this sickness, Honeybee.”
