Page 45 of The Escape Plan

“Your grandma?” I repeat, just to make sure. “Like, the one who?—”

“Yup,” he replies curtly.

My brow crinkles. “Wasn’t she Irish?”

“Yes, but she spent some time in Serendipity Springs. I didn’t even know about it until after she passed away.”

“And you think she lived here, in this apartment building?”

“No.” He takes a breath. “I think she lived in the dorms.”

Beckett pulls his wallet out of his pocket and shimmies an old, yellowed card out of it. Hands it to me.

The card is an old-fashioned student ID for one Noeleen Quinn, Spring Brook graduating class of 1960. The woman in the picture looks around nineteen or twenty, and even though the picture is wrinkled and weathered and in black-and-white, her resemblance to Becks is undeniable—the sparkling, teasing look in her eyes, the strong cheekbones, the full lips, the confident tilt of her chin.

“She’s beautiful,” I say.

He smiles fondly. “She was an incredible woman.”

I tilt my head. “Spring Brook is a pretty big college, and was so even back then. There were likely a ton of dorms around town just like this one. What makes you think she lived here?”

“I found her name on the wall in the laundry room, carved into the plaster. There were a bunch of names in a row. Estelle was on there, I think. Maybe a Margot?”

“Whoa.” I suddenly remember the look on Beckett’s face after he picked up the lid of my laundry detergent—the way his face paled, his hazel eyes wide open. I’ve seen the names written on the wall down there a few times over the years. Never thought much of them. “And she never told you she came here?”

Becks shakes his head. “That’s what’s really strange about all of this. There must be a reason she never mentioned it to me.”

I nod slowly, processing this. I can’t imagine Gramps dying and then finding out something completely unexpected about his life. I’d have so many questions… as I’m sure Beckett does. But I’m safe in my knowledge that Gramps grew up here and stayed here his whole life.

Beckett’s dark brows are drawn together, his full lips pursed in thought. I can’t help but feel for the guy.

“This must feel doubly strange, then,” I say gently. “You could be living in the same building where she lived.”

He looks at me for a long moment, then quirks a little smile, giving me a flash of his dimple. “Now,thatwould be very serendipitous.”

“I bet there’s a way we can find out for sure.” For some reason, I feel entirely invested in helping Beckett learn any detail he can about his grandmother’s time here in town.

Probably because he’s my friend. I want him to get whatever answers he needs.

Beckett shakes his head. “I drove out to Spring Brook the other day to see if they could run her Student ID and tell me anything about her time there, but apparently the campus out there was established after my gran attended.”

I pause for a moment. “You’re right, it’s a newer campus, separate from the college it used to be… but you’re forgetting something very important.”

“Do enlighten me.”

“We’re currently standing in one of the old campus residences.” I gesture towards the bookshelves lining the walls. “I wonder if we can find some answers in this very room.”

That wonderful, broad smile is back on his face. “Keeley Roberts, you are a genius.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder playfully. “Not just a pretty face.”

“Brains and beauty. It’s a killer combo.” His eyes are warm and liquid as he looks at me with blatant, unabashed admiration. He then abruptly turns on his heel and marches towards the nearest bookshelf… leaving me standing in the wake of his charm with insides that now also feel warm and liquid.

When he reaches the shelf, he looks over his shoulder with a flirty smirk. “Are you coming or what?”

“Sure am,” I say as evenly as possible, forcing away the herd of internal butterflies rampaging around my stomach.

Together, we rake the shelves, exploring the old tomes. There are rows of encyclopedias, stacks of Oxford English Dictionaries, and a whole shelf’s worth of cartography books boasting maps of the world.

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