Page 21 of Fortune's Control
Defeated, I placed them in a stack and returned to the circulation desk.
“No luck?” Lainey asks.
I set the yearbooks on the countertop with a sigh. “Nothing. What about a phone book? Probably not. Why would anyone keep those?” No one used them anymore. I barely remembered them from my childhood.
Lainey frowned. “Let me think. You may find someone with the name Mayberry in the property records office.” I brightened. “It isn’t open until Monday,” she explained with an apologetic smile. “There’s also the cemetery. It’s a grim suggestion, but that may be worth checking. The names go back over a century. If you find a name and date, you’ll have a great start.”
I shivered at the idea. “How far is it?”
“You can walk to it. Go outside, turn left, and turn left again. It’s a beautiful place, peaceful.”
The same word I used this morning. “I’ll try that, thank you.”
“You know what?” She pursed her lips and tapped thebottom one. “We have newspapers from back then. They’re a complete mess. It’s been on my list to make digital copies, but there’s never an opportunity. Come back in the morning, and I’ll have them waiting.”
“Seriously?” Hope filled me. I knew the odds were slim, but right now, only one person in the world cared about me, and my grandmother could be the second. My mother loved me because she was my mother, but that wasn’t the same.
Lainey waved a hand. “Absolutely. It’s a real-life mystery. I’m glad you came in today, Lilah.”
*****
The cemetery was a real-life picture book. A thick canopy of oaks and pines shaded it all, while the Spanish moss added to the solemn atmosphere.
I strolled along the trail, noting the different headstones, many of which were well over a hundred years old. Flowers adorned several, ranging from a few simple blooms to elaborate bouquets. A few mentioned couples, while too many listed children.
None were familiar.
Toward the back, I spotted a familiar figure sitting by himself on a stone bench.
A person visiting a gravesite wanted privacy. I hesitated before my curiosity won out. “Shane?”
8-Lilah
Shane stiffened at the sound of his name. “Lilah?” He craned his neck to see me and frowned. “What are you doing here?”
He scooted over and tapped the space beside him, letting me know my presence wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
“Looking for family members.” I took the space to his right. The small bench’s lack of room caused my thigh to touch his, and the heat from his body radiated into me. “The librarian suggested checking here.”
“The librarian? Lainey sent you.” Shane stooped to rub his left calf.
The double headstone before us bore the name Wilcott along with the same date of death, well over eleven years ago. I did the math and wondered about his younger sister’s age.
“You’re visiting your parents.” That was a dumb opening. I thought of that big house, and of him alone in it. Its empty silence probably sounded like ghosts. “Will you tell me about them?”
“I come here sometimes to think. It’s peaceful. It’s rare to find anyone here but me.” There was that word again. Emma said I deserved it, and maybe he did, too. Shane swallowed back a laugh. “They were amazing parents. My dad was a lawyer and the mayor.”
“Mayor?”
“Sam Taggert took it on after they died,” he explained, nodding toward the gravestone. “Dad loved people, and thepart-time job gave him a lot of opportunities to be around them. Sam has hinted I should run for the position a few times.”
“Will you?”
“No, oh no. Not going to happen.” He shook his head. “Not interested in that job.” I wondered at such an emphatic refusal based only on a few job hints. “They can find someone else who would enjoy it.”
I noticed the smaller first names on the double headstone. “You share the same first name. You’re a junior.”
“I’m a third.” He smiled sadly. “My grandfather was also Shane Wilcott. His headstone is that small chunk of half-buried rock.”
