Page 72 of Engulfing Emma

Enid smiles and says to me, “Twelve going on thirty.”

I laugh. “You’re not afraid to fly, Enid?”

“No,” she says. “If we let fear rule our lives, we’ll never really live, now will we?”

“But you never remarried.”

“That’s not because of fear,” she says. “It’s because I had my one true love. Evie’s grandfather was the love of my life and it’s enough to last me a lifetime.” She puts her hand on mine. “I’m sorry, I heard you also lost someone that day.”

I look at her sideways, confused.

“Bonnie told me,” she says.

“Oh, right.”

Enid taps on the picture. “I just wish we could narrow it down. Do you know how many men in Germany have the name Stefan Schmidt?”

“Maybe I could help. I know someone. We’re not close friends, but I’ve been to a few gatherings with him.” I think hard to pinpoint exactly how I know him. “Ethan Stone is his name. My buddy Denver’s twin sister is married to a man whose best friend’s sister is married to Ethan’s brother.”

Enid laughs. “That’s a lot of degrees of separation. Who is this Ethan?”

“He owns a private investigation business. I’m sure he could help you.” I look at the ceiling. “I’m just not comfortable asking him without Emma’s permission though.”

Evie elbows her grandmother. “See? I told you he was the one.”

The shower turns off upstairs, and I stand, handing Enid my empty glass. “Thanks for the milk and cookie. I’d better leave now.”

“I suppose you’d better,” Enid says. “You can go out thefrontdoor. It’s works even better now than it did before.”

I eye her curiously. Does she know Emma pushed me out the back door last week?

“Go,” she urges. “This will be our little secret.”

“It was nice meeting you, Enid.”

“Same here.” She takes Evie’s glass and hands her the strip of pictures. “Now off to bed with you. And be quiet about it.”

Evie walks me out. “I like you better than any of the others,” she whispers.

“I thought you never met any of the others.”

“I didn’t. I guess that’s why I like you the best.”

I laugh quietly. “Goodnight, Evie.”

“Night, Brett.”

I really like Emma’s daughter. I like her mother, too. I guess the only one I really have to win over at this point is Emma.

Chapter Twenty-two

Emma

“Daddy!” I yell as I run into his arms.

He scoops me up and carries me effortlessly even though I’m eight years old now and far too big to be carried by my father.

“Hey, sweet pea,” he says, brushing my cheek with a finger covered with soot.

---