Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I feel strengthened by it, more like myself than I have in a while.
By inking my skin, I found myself. I gained strength.
The bracelets still clink on my right wrist, and now I wonder… Where did they truly come from?
Perhaps Grandmother Didi bought them at an antique place. Perhaps they weren’t hers to begin with, so they have someone else’s initials. After all, WM aren’t necessarily odd initials. QX would be odd. But not WM.
I head back into the antique shop where Lucy is still sitting.
“Hey, Ava, twice in one day?”
“Yeah. Could you have a look at these bracelets?” I pull them off my wrist and hand them to her. “Are they vintage?”
Lucy takes the loupe, which is still sitting there on the counter where I left it, and puts it to her eye to examine the bracelets.
“I’d say these are about thirty to fifty years old. Nothing antique.”
“I see.”
That doesn’t really help me at all since both my grandmothers are around the same age. Either could’ve gotten them around the same time.
“Is there anything on them that could tell you where they were made? A marking or anything?”
“No, I don’t see any kind of jeweler’s marking.” She holds up the third bracelet. “Other than this WM. I don’t know of any jeweler that uses that particular marking. Not from when these were made, anyway.”
“All right. That’s interesting.” I take the bracelets and put them back on my wrist. “Thanks again, Lucy.”
“Anytime. See you around, Ava.”
I head back to my place, making a stop at the pharmacy where I pick up a tube of ointment that Cyrus recommended for caring for my tattoo as it heals.
As I’m leaving, I run into Brock.
I so don’t need to deal with him right now.
“Ava,” he says. “What’s this about the bakery closing down?”
“I’m allowed to take some time off, Brock.”
“Yeah.” He cocks his head to the side. “Of course you are. Except that you don’t.”
I brush past him and outside the pharmacy. “See you later.”
But he follows me, of course. I knew he would. No one brushes off Brock Steel.
“What are you doing down here on a weekday anyway?” I ask.
“Just some paperwork for Rory’s holiday concert. You’ll be there, right?”
“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good, because we have a special guest coming.”
“Oh? Who?”
“We’re keeping it under wraps. But believe me, you don’t want to miss it.”
Normally I would press Brock for details, but my mind is elsewhere right now.
“You want to stop in the bar for a drink?”
“No, thank you.” I don’t want to see Brendan, and Brendan will be at the bar.
“If it makes a difference, Brendan’s not there.”
I pop my eyes open. “What?”
“Yeah, apparently he’s taking a few days off. Doing something with his dad. He’s got Johnny and Laney working double shifts, and he brought in temps.”
“Why would he take time off during the same time I’m taking time off?”
“Hell if I know. It’s weirder that you don’t know. Can I tempt you with a libation now?”
“Yeah, sure.” I grab Brock’s arm. “Let’s go have that drink.”
It’s early yet, just after four, so the bar isn’t overly busy. I order a mineral water while Brock has a bourbon.
“Where’s Rory?”
“She’s back at the cinema, working with Jesse on the sound and lighting for the concert.”
“Boy, I guess that’s only a week away, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I had to pull some strings. Jenny at the cinema wanted to start her holiday film fest on that day, but I talked her out of it.”
“Using your usual charm.”
“If you say so, cuz.”
“I’m wondering…” I fiddle with my bracelets. “What haven’t you told me about the stuff happening on our property?”
Brock shifts his gaze to the wooden bar. “I’ve told you pretty much everything. I mean, you know everything now, right?”
“I know about my father. About his biological mother. About Pat Lamone. About…everything.”
“Lamone’s an ass.”
“I agree with you, but I found out something about his birth that’s kind of sad.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s the product of rape. Lauren Wingdam was raped by three men and left pregnant.”
Brock widens his eyes. “Wow. I guess that explains why she couldn’t keep him.”
“Right. But what it doesn’t explain is why the couple who adopted him changed their name and his.”
“More to figure out.” Brock sighs. “I swear to God, growing up, I had no idea we had this many skeletons in our closet.”
“Neither did I. All our parents were determined to give us idyllic childhoods.”
Brock takes a sip of bourbon. “Tell you what, Ava. I’m taking some time off myself this week, helping Rory and Jesse get ready for the concert. Let me help you.”
I take a sip of my mineral water. “With what?”
“With all the shit that’s going down. Rory doesn’t need me underfoot, and I—”
“I want to talk to your father,” I say.
“Why?”
“I just do.”
“Good enough.” Brock pulls out his phone, sends a quick text.