Page 5 of Coral Memories

And Jack still had a keen desire to write her grandmother’s story, whatever that might entail.

A thought occurred to Marina. She might find more family history in her grandfather’s study. He’d also been a force in his lifetime.

Marina glanced at the clock. She had some time before their shoot.

After crossing the short distance from the cafe to Ginger’s cottage, Marina made her way into the study. She opened the door, greeted by the sweet scent of aged pipe tobacco that had permeated the pages of every book and lingered in the air.

She glanced at the yellow manila folders still in his desk drawer but didn’t see anything unusual. At the built-in bookcase, she ran her fingers across the books Bertrand Delavie had written on leadership and diplomacy. Yet, the more stories Marina pieced together, the more she realized that Ginger also had a compelling story.

How many women could say they had once been cryptologists or contributed to the course of history?

Marina wished she knew more of what Ginger had worked on. When asked questions about her past, her grandmother could be vague. Another thought occurred to her. Over the years, Ginger often took trips with friends, though Marina and her sisters had never met them.

Did those people even exist?

Or was Marina imagining things now?

She slid a book from the shelf and opened it. Dust particles rose from yellowed pages brittle with age. She flipped to the back of the book and searched the sources. An author of an article about probabilities jumped out at her.

G.E. Delavie.

Although everyone called her grandmother Ginger, her given name was Grace Ellen. She was born with ginger-colored hair,so the nickname stuck—even among her grandchildren. Marina smiled to herself. She was the one who’d cast aside the grandmother title and called her Ginger like Grandpa did.

Precocious, some probably thought, but what did she know at that age?

Marina reviewed the attribution. Had Ginger written this article, or was this a coincidence? She would research this later.

Her sister Kai appeared in the doorway, a vision in a flowing floral sundress, a lightweight sweater looped around her shoulders, and a large bag on her arm. “Hey, you. Cruise said you’d gone this way. Ready for our filming?”

“You’re early for a change. I just needed a break.”

Kai sauntered toward her. “So you decided to spend it here looking at dusty old books when you have a sunny beach a few steps away?”

“I’ve been thinking about all Ginger has done in her life.” She showed her sister the book she was looking at. “Check this out.G. E. Delavie.”

“Is that a relative?”

“I think it’s Ginger. Her name is Grace Ellen, remember? I’m going to ask her about that article.”

Kai smoothed a hand over her rounded abdomen in thought. “She’s always downplayed her accomplishments.”

“Yet she’s always been confident about her abilities.” One of their grandmother’s favorite sayings was,Let’s get on with it. To her, there was always another mountain to climb, another goal to reach and surpass. Marina suspected her impacts had likely been more significant than any of them knew.

Marina watched Kai’s motions. “How’s the baby today?”

“Practicing kickboxing,” she replied. “Brooke’s baby is chill, but this one has plenty of energy. I’ll have to stay in shape to keep up with it.”

Marina grinned, thinking of when she was pregnant with her twins. Her younger sisters were expecting their babies only a few weeks apart—Kai with her first and Brooke with her fourth.

Leaning against the desk, Marina asked, “Remember that article we saw online? It talked about how Ginger had trained and inspired other women in that Cold War codebreaking outfit. People have made movies about that kind of work.”

“Maybe now is the time to talk to her. What about Jack? He always wanted to write her story.”

Marina grew quiet for a moment. “Any book Jack writes is bound to get a lot of attention. How do you think she’d feel about that now?”

Kai wrinkled her nose. “After embellishing her stories for years, she might not remember the real version.”

“I think she’s still plenty sharp.”

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