Page 37 of What are the Chances

“Uhh…we… that is to say, we are looking for someone,” I say, sounding like a degenerate undercover cop.

Mason gently holds up his phone in front of Alma until she can see it.

“Is this your address, or are we turned around?” His eyebrows draw together in question.

Alma wipes her hands on the white apron wrapped around her large midsection. Her greying hair is whipped into a loose bun with little tendrils falling all around her round face. She pulls out a small pair of glasses from the pocket of her shirt and continues to narrow her eyes, squinting as she stares at the screen.

“That’s me. Come on in, and let’s chat about who you’re lookin’ for.” She turns, and we follow her inside to a small living room just beyond the door. A large stone fireplace takes up half the wall, one small couch sits against the window, and a brown recliner is angled across from it.

“Take a seat, I’ll grab some tea.” Alma’s voice echoes as she heads toward a small kitchen past the living room.

Mason takes a seat on the three-seater sofa, and I sit next to him and place my hand on his knee.

“Maybe it’s whoever lived here first?” I ask him. With his thick eyebrows still drawn together, he nods as Alma walks over and sets two coffee mugs in front of us.

“Actually, Alma… this is a little strange. Maybe you can help us find the people who used to live here?” I ask confidently, pulling up on the string that dangles from the side of my mug, dipping it in the hot water. Alma perks up at my question while settling into the oversized recliner.

“I’d certainly love to help you, but I’ve lived here my whole life.”

My hope dips and my stomach churns. A dead end, exactly what I feared would happen. Mason must sense my mood, he wraps a strong arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer.

“Just out of curiosity, why are you looking for the previous owners?” Alma asks, sipping her tea.

“We were told the Kelleys from the line I’m looking for could be found here,” I sigh.

Alma narrows her eyes in confusion. “Why are you lookin’ for Kelleys?”

I swallow the disappointment on my tongue and chase it with a sip of peppermint tea.

“I’m trying to track down my relations… my family. I took one of those ancestry tests, and it said I had family in this area… Ennis, to be exact.”

Alma’s cheeks look a little pink, and her confused expression hasn’t changed. She gently sets her tea cup down and leans forward.

“And is Kelley, in fact, your last name dear?”

I gulp and quietly answer, “It is.”

Alma breathes in a sharp breath.

“From your mother’s side or your father’s?”

I blink at her question. It feels like Alma and I are scary close to getting somewhere, and I’m not sure my heart is ready for it.

“My mother’s side. I never knew my father.”

Alma seemingly leans closer although it could have just been my conspirator imagination.

“And your mother’s name?” Alma asks with a slight rasp.

“Faye,” I whisper, staring into her eyes. “Faye Rose Kelley. Her mother’s name was Lauren.”

Alma’s eyes mist for a second before she lets out an odd sound from her throat like a sob or shock. Mason looks between us, not sure what to do. Neither do I. Finally, as tears well in Alma’s eyes, she explains.

“Faye was our mother’s name. Rose was our grandmother. Faye got most of our family’s name lineage. It always made me so angry she got it and took it away with her to America.”

My breathing hitches as I absorb her words. Words that sound a lot like she’s admitting to being my family, but I have to be sure. Hope can be a son of a bitch.

“What are you saying?”

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