Page 7 of A Killing Cold

“I know. I’m terrible, you can’t stand me,” Alexis says; Paloma’s nose scrunches. “So. Have you met Grandma Louise yet, Theo?” she asks me.

“Not yet,” I say.

“She’s the one you have to impress,” Alexis informs me.

“So Connor said.” I laugh a little.

“He’s right,” says a new voice, old but strong as steel, and everyone turns toward the woman walking into the room. She stands ramrod straight, her hands clasped before her. She must be in her eighties, but she doesn’t look it. Maybe that’s what a lifetime of money will buy you—not happiness, but smoother skin, fewer aches and pains along the way.

“Grandma,” Connor says, tension in his voice. He wants this to goperfectly. He wantsmeto be perfect, but I don’t know how. I feel like I should curtsy or bow or do a little dance; I just stand there frozen.

“Theodora Scott,” the old woman says.

“It’s just Theo.” I try not to sound like I’m correcting her.

“And I am Louise. You can call me Mrs. Dalton.” The formality is almost a relief.

“Thank you so much for inviting me here, Mrs. Dalton,” I say. “Connor talks so much about all the time he’s spent here.”

“A venerable Dalton family tradition,” Mrs. Dalton acknowledges. “Idlewood was built by my husband’s grandfather. Back then, it was only a few log cabins, of course. It’s had many lives over the years. This particular structure was our addition, after the old lodge was damaged in a fire.”

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“It is,” she agrees. “Now, why don’t you take a seat so I can interrogate you properly?”

I laugh, which seems to be the correct response. Paloma and Alexis make room on the couch, and I sit with hands clasped nervously in my lap.

Her head tilts, examining me. “So, Theo, are you from California originally?” she asks.

“I grew up in Washington state,” I say smoothly. “But I left for college and I haven’t been back.”

An eyebrow arches. “Why LA?” she asks. “No Hollywood aspirations, I should hope.”

I make a face. “Definitely not. I guess I always wanted to live somewhere warm, and… I don’t know. I just always felt drawn to the area.”

“And your family?” she asks. “Are they still in Washington?”

My stomach clenches. It’s an easy question. A normal question that normal people would have a simple answer to. “I don’t have any family.”

“An orphan?” she clarifies, brow arched. I nod. It’s not a lie. Not really. A simpler version of the truth than I could share, maybe. “My condolences. That must be very difficult.”

“It was a long time ago.” I smile—just the bend of the lips, pretty, polite. “But I am so grateful to be welcomed into your family.”

“Well, we shall see,” Mrs. Dalton says. Connor makes a strangled noise. “You mentioned college. You have your degree?”

“A BA in English,” I say.

“And employment?”

“I work at a bookstore.” This is not an ideal response; her top lip wrinkles. “I’m saving up money to go back to school to get a master’s,” I add, and Connor gives me an odd look. I avoid his eyes. I have no such intention and I’m not sure why I said it. The last thing I want to do is delve back into academia. But I need to impress these people, and assistant manager at the Magpie’s Pen is not impressive.

“In something more practical, I should hope,” Mrs. Dalton says.

“I haven’t decided,” I stammer.

“Theo’s brilliant. Top of her class. She could do anything she wants, really,” Connor says, acting like this isn’t the first he’s heard of my academic ambitions. I take a sip of my drink to hide my expression. The only way I could have gotten to the top of my class was if I’d taken out hits on a half dozen other students. I’d had to work full-time, a night-shift warehouse job. I slept through too many morning classes to hope for a perfect GPA.

Alexis waves a hand. “You’re, what, twenty-four? Basically a baby. You’ve got plenty of time to figure out where you want to land.”

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