Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Hey,” he responds, sounding bored now. He doesn’t even bother to offer me his name. I suppose I didn’t introduce myself either.
“Look at you, Charlie!” Grams snags my attention.
“Grams.” I drop the roller bag I’ve been lugging around and rush over to hug her. “When did you get a walker?” I kiss her cheek. She’s so much older than I remember. A tinge of resentment fills me for all the time I’ve missed.
I’ll never forget the one summer I got to stay with her. It was one of the best of my life. Grams’ love was different from my mom’s. There weren’t strings attached to it. She just loved me and accepted me for me. With my father, I was always trying to impress him or make him like me so that maybe he’d come around more. With Grams, I could be myself. It had been the same with Grandpa.
“It’s a big house. I need it to get around sometimes. Make sure I don’t fall.” She cups my cheeks in her wrinkled hands. “You’ve gotten so tall.”
“Tall?” I laugh. I don’t think anyone has ever called me that.
“Since I last saw you in person.” My smile falters at the reminder of how much time we’ve lost together. “Your mom can be a real bitch sometimes.”
I burst into laughter. Grams might be a little older, but her sense of humor hasn’t changed a bit.
“I suppose she can.” Maybe Grams won’t be so mad that I dropped out of college and made my escape. Then again, she has been the one paying for it. I’ll save that for another day. “I’m just happy I could come.”
“You’re always welcome here, dear. Are you hungry? Constance will be here soon to prepare dinner.”
“I could eat.” I peek over to see the man still standing by the door watching me.
“Good, come. I’ve been working on my macrame. Rowan found where I’d left the last one I made. I’ll show you.”
Rowan–even his name is big and solid. A million questions linger on the tip of my tongue, but I fight them back. It’s a battle I’m sure to lose.
3
ROWAN
Edith rambles about yarn and beads while showing the girl her drenched project I extracted from the kitchen drain. I should go and do some research on Charlie Devereaux, find out where the hell she came from.
I’m familiar with her name, though she didn’t figure too much in all the recon I did on the Devereauxs. My focus was more on her father, on the man who may be the only person alive with knowledge of the diadem’s whereabouts. I know for certain he brought it home with him nineteen years ago after finding it and several other rare artifacts in a Turkish dig site. He’s still wanted for the extensive theft, though Interpol has long since let the dust settle on that warrant. After that, he brought the treasures here to his parents’ home. I don’t think the diadem ever left the premises. It was far too hot and too valuable for him to offload it, so he stashed it somewhere on the property, then left and sold his other stolen goods on the black market for hefty sums.
The last thing I need is another person on the estate, one who might be a little too interested in my little projects and dig sites. Fuck, this is going to be a mess. But I can’t stop now. I’ve already wasted so much time looking for the diadem, and there’s no going back. I have to find it.
“This is so creative.” Charlie leans over to look at the bits of yarn and beads.
“It’s sort of like knitting, you see?” Edith holds up a tangle of yarn between her hands. “But all you have to do is make knots. I’ve always been good at that, getting things all twisted and tied up.” She smiles, her loving gaze on her granddaughter’s face.
My gaze, though, has strayed to her granddaughter’s ass. She’s wearing a dress that molds around her hips then flows out in a skirt. Charlie is petite, but she doesn’t lack curves. In fact, she has everything right where I like it, not to mention the long hair that flows down her back in gentle waves.
“Rowan, something the matter?” Edith’s eyes glint as I look up.
“No, Edith.” I can’t believe she busted me. Sometimes, Edith seems like ten pounds of nuttiness stuffed in a five-pound bag. But there are other times–like right now–that make me wonder if it’s all an act. She’s sharp in unexpected ways. Then again, she did just stuff her yarn project down the sink and forgot she’d done it. “I should get going.”
“Charlie, Rowan is my handyman. He fixes everything that breaks around here, and that’s quite a lot. Rowan, why don’t you show Charlie around the place? It’s been a long time since she came for a visit, and you’re the only one who knows the house and grounds almost as good as me.” She waggles her brows as Charlie turns around, her blue eyes seeking me out.