Page 177 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“Why you and not Tate? He’s her grandson,” she pointed out.

“You can see the way Tate drinks and question it?”

“Good point. Does he mind Gram put you in charge?”

“Yeah, it’s another bone of contention between the two of us. But he just has to deal.”

“I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.” Becca moved to the table and sat in her usual place.

“Be honest and you won’t.”

Was there a hidden warning in his words? She glanced at him from under her lashes. Maybe it was guilt that made her feel she had rocks in the pit of her stomach. She hated not being truthful in everything she did. It would all be out soon. Maybe sooner than she wanted. Would Max toss her out on her ear too?

The rest of the family came in for breakfast, and she put her misgivings away.

Shayna sat beside Becca. “How was your day yesterday?” Becca asked her.

“Fine. I found a darling pair of shoes. Red ones. I love red shoes.” Shayna spread her napkin on her lap and took a sip of coffee. “I miss Molly.”

“I’m getting her shortly.” Becca wondered if everyone expected more out of the little girl because of her precocious manner and vocabulary. It was hard to remember she was a five-year-old girl at heart. She likely didn’t have much chance at play since she was surrounded by adults all day long.

“Gram is coming home today too,” Shayna said. “You’ll like her. She’s never too busy to listen. That’s about all there is to do here on this island—talk.”

How well Becca remembered that trait in their grandmother. It was going to be hard not to kneel by Gram’s chair and rest her head on her knees.

The sound of a motorboat drifted through the window. “Now who’s here?” Max got up and looked out the window. “Gram is here already!”

Everyone got up from the table and rushed for the door. Becca felt like she might throw up. How did she fade into the background until she could talk to Gram alone?

She backed away from the table and turned to creep up the steps. Max turned around in the doorway and saw her.

“Hey, Gram will want to meet you,” he called. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you.”

Becca had no choice. She turned and went slowly to join Max. Praying her grandmother didn’t recognize her right off, she tailed behind Max as he went to greet Gram.

Tate had run ahead and was hugging his grandmother as she stood on the dock and waited for the rest of the family to arrive.

Becca’s gaze took in the new wrinkles on Gram’s face, the hair that was completely white now instead of salt-and-pepper,and the added roundness of her short figure. Those blue eyes were just the same though—kind, gentle, but oh-so-discerning.

Becca knew she’d never pull it off.

She hung back, hoping her grandmother wouldn’t notice her. Everyone was laughing and hugging Gram so Becca could watch undetected for now. She saw the grief etched in the wrinkles around Gram’s eyes and the weary droop of her shoulders. She wanted to run forward and bury her face in her grandmother’s bosom and grieve with her.

Her throat felt tight with unshed tears, and Becca struggled to control her expression. It wouldn’t do for Gram to look at her and wonder why some stranger was crying in the front yard.

In a lull left by Tate and Nick hauling Gram’s luggage toward the house, Max looked back and saw Becca. “Oh, Gram, you haven’t met my new research assistant yet.” He held out his hand to Becca. When she stepped forward, he drew her to face Gram. “This is Becca Lynn. She just started a few days ago, but already her help has been invaluable.”

Gram cocked her head to the side in a mannerism Becca now remembered so well. “Welcome to Windigo Manor, my dear.” She took Becca’s hand in her small one and pressed it. “You look familiar to me. Have we met?”

Becca’s tongue felt glued to the top of her mouth. How could she lie to her own grandmother? God wouldn’t like it. She swallowed hard. “I—I--,” she broke off as shouts from the house interrupted her confession.

“Gram, phone call!” Tate yelled from the front porch. “I think it’s Aunt Trudy.”

Aunt Trudy. It had been years since Becca had heard that name too. Gram’s younger sister. Becca suddenly was overcome with nostalgia for the way life used to be when she was a child. Family around her, laughter and joy. Why couldn’t life always be like that?

She had to tell her grandmother the truth when they next met.

The barn smelledof decades of old hay mingled with the faint scent of horse and engine oil. Becca found the Cadillac easily enough under a yellowed tarp in the back. It didn’t look like it had been driven in a while. Surely someone had used it in the three years Laura had been gone?