Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
The letter made it sound like there was a lesson here, something clear and obvious, a little like the doozy he left Ethan.
The couple statue looks beautiful, despite being abandoned.
Or I might just think that because they were my grandparents. On its own, it doesn’t offer much insight into his life.
It doesn’t enrich my world.
At the end of the day, it’s just a pretty sculpture, and the unfinished shoes are hardly even that.
My throat stings with disappointment, though I should be ecstatic.
It’s the first real meat we’ve found since I showed up here.
Too bad it feels so lacking.
“There must be more,” I whisper, sweeping the flashlight around the room again.
I’m looking for paintings, something else Grams left behind, completed artwork.
Nothing.
The wall behind the statue glints sharply in the light, and I grab Kane’s flashlight for a better look.
There’s a beautiful stained glass window in the wall. The light can’t quite filter through it when I stop and focus the LED beam.
Still, the colored light scatters gloriously in the brightness.
“What’s that?” He’s already standing over me, running his fingers along the sides of the window. As I get closer, I see what he means.
It’s like some kind of old artsy cabinet, more like the type of thing you’d see in a church than some strange underground cellar.
There’s even a handle on the side.
But when I pull, it won’t budge.
Disappointing.
For a hot second, I thought this was it.
Our great mystery.
“Was your grandfather religious?” Kane asks softly.
“I don’t think so. He had his beliefs, but he wasn’t too serious.”
“Huh. There’s a real chapel vibe here with that window.” He tries the handle, but again, it doesn’t move. Almost like it’s locked.
I exhale sharply, one long deflated sigh.
“Guess we should leave it alone for now,” he says. “I don’t want to risk breaking anything. And if we can get more light down here, all the better.”
“You’re right.”
“We’ll come back,” he promises, running a hand down my arm. “I just don’t want to force it. They don’t make glass like that anymore.”
I nod in agreement.
The glass is beautiful, all bold colors set in irregular patterns. For all I know, maybe my grandmother made that, too.
There’s no denying she was multitalented.
It hurts a little, knowing I’ll never be able to ask her or Gramps. These are just breadcrumbs, scattered for us to find.
Kane kisses the side of my head as he grabs the flashlight from my lifeless fingers.
“We’re getting warmer,” he says as he heads to the bottom of the stairs. “Okay, guys, it’s all clear,” he calls. “No snakes, bears, or evil clowns. Careful on the stairs coming down.”
Dan moves first.
Sophie, with her shoes, comes slower and more carefully.
But a minute later, they’re both poking around the old workbench, touching the statues and marveling at the stained glass.
Kane could be right—we must be close.
I just don’t know if that’s wishful thinking.
I want to believe it and put this to bed so much.
Just like I want to believe that this man watching me so intently with his adorable kids could stay, rather than winding up like this cellar of artifacts, buried and forgotten.
16
DRIVE IT HOME (KANE)
The September sun warms my back as I walk down Sully Bay’s main strip with an Americano in hand that smells good enough to inhale through my nose.
Dan and Sophie are captivated by a couple street musicians.
There are three of them. One guy strums a guitar, his partner plays the accordion, and a girl belts out an emotional song with a violin tucked under her arm.
Her voice is haunting, but when Guitar Guy joins in, Sophie’s eyes start to shine.
Damn.
I might have to start worrying about her and boys sooner than I think.
Dan grins too, loving the way Accordion Man bangs a snare drum with his foot as he plays, perfectly synced.
“Super cool, Dad. Do you know how hard it is to play multiple instruments like a boss?” Dan asks.
Guitar Guy has long shaggy hair pulled back in a ponytail, and whenever he leans closer to the mic to sing, he closes his eyes.
“It’s something,” I agree, scanning to see where Margot went.
She came into town with us and ran off to the nearby craft booths to look for more info on stained glass and a safe way to pry that door open.
We figured the kids would be entertainment. They love the candied apples, too.
I couldn’t say no at the coffee shop when I saw the huge green balls on a stick slathered in caramel.
Soph bites into her half-eaten apple, smacking her lips.
I sip my coffee and goddamn, is that good.
We needed this today.
Especially with more unsolved mysteries piling up.
Even so, Margot’s taking her time, and I crane my head, trying to spot her through the swirling crowd.
A lot of older folks crowd around us, making the most of the sunny day and easy atmosphere.