Page 19 of Little Shattered Dreams

“Oh, she does, but she’s not herself right now. She’ll come around. She just needs time. I must confess, I didn’t know you owned your own detective agency until last night.”

“Who told you?”

“Chief Foley.”

I didn’t respond at first. At this point, I felt like everything about me was being used as a teaching tool of some kind.

Glancing around her office, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in a room that was this bright of a white. Everything was pristine, in its place. In the far corner, a large potted plant rested next to a bay window. On the wall shelf, there were several framed photos. One of Grace with her arm around a man I assumed to be her husband. Another with her smiling next to a dog. And a third of two darling young girls, arm in arm.

“Cute girls,” I said.

She glanced at the photo and smiled. “Thank you. They are, aren’t they? Are you married?”

“I live with someone. What about you?”

“Single … well, if you don’t count my two fur babies.”

She took out her cell phone, showing me several photos of her dogs.

I pointed at the shelf. “Who’s the guy in the photo with you?”

“My brother.”

“Have you ever been married?” I asked.

“I have.”

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say he didn’t like it when I started becoming a better version of myself.”

Didn’t like it … or was it some other reason, like her trying to change him the way she was trying to change me?

“Did you know Faith was Quinn’s daughter?” I asked.

“Not at first. I saw them chatting here and there, and though I didn’t know how they knew each other, it was clear they did.”

We still hadn’t gotten to the point, the reason she’d asked me here in the first place. “Why did you want to see me? If it’s to convince me to open up while I’m here, there’s nothing more to say.”

“I just thought since you were already here, I’d offer my two cents.”

“Is there anything else you want to discuss?”

Grace reached into her drawer, pulled out an unsealed envelope, and slid it over to me. I opened it, eyeing the stack of hundred-dollar bills inside.

“What is this … a refund?”

“Of course not. It’s my hope that you’ll change your mind about this place. Maybe not this week, but at some point in the future. When you do, your next stay is on me, free of charge.”

“If you’re not offering me a refund, whatareyou offering me?”

“A proposition. I’d like to hire you to investigate what happened to Quinn and why. I hope you don’t mind. I looked up your initial fee on your website. What I’ve just given you covers it and then some.”

I sat there a moment, taken aback, trying to decide what motivated her to make such a move. Perhaps she was worried about her reputation. The Soul Awakens was a newer establishment, operating for less than three years. Once word started to spread about what happened here, if it wasn’t handled the right way, the business would be at risk.

Her offer of me returning in the future was as much for her benefit as she believed it was for mine. If she wanted me to investigate, she knew I’d need to forego the idea of “finding myself” during my stay and get to work doing what I did best.

“Why do you want to hire me?” I asked.

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