Page 84 of Tessa's Trust

Of course. Yeah. Silverville only had one small hotel, and it definitely wasn’t this woman’s style. A thought occurred to me. “Where was your husband staying? Did he spend time at the hotel here?”

“Oh, no. He rented some cabin, I have no idea where, and I don’t really care. I have to get out of this place.” She brightened. “But then again, who knows? Maybe I’ll stick around as we go to trial.”

“Oh, we’re not going to trial,” I said. “That deed was fake.” Except the longer Sadie was gone, the more I started to wonder. Had she double-crossed me and just taken my money and run? It was a theory, and one I wasn’t much liking.

Marilyn smiled wider. “It looks like we have a fight on our hands.” Truth be told, the woman looked way too excited about that.

“Why?” I took in her stunning earrings.

She blanched. “Rudy might’ve taken some of my money, too. Oh, I have plenty left, but the sale of that building will make me whole again. I can’t stand losing to anybody.” She glanced at my Rogue. “Cute car. I’ll probably own that, too.” With that last parting shot, she turned and strolled back down the sidewalk, somehow not slipping on the ice. Those fancy shoes must have decent traction.

My body feeling tired and old again, I lumbered into my vehicle and then just sat there. I was cold, tired, and hungry, yet I knew exactly where I had to go.

I had no choice.

I sat in my car for several moments, trying to figure out my next move. I really needed to get back over the pass and make sure the diner was okay. However, I had just been almost arrested with Nonna Albertini, and that gossip would hit the local grapevine within minutes, so there really was only one place to go.

I drove out of Silverville and through a mountain pass to reach my grandparents’ house. Nana O’Shea was already opening the door as I maneuvered up the walk.

“Hi, honey.” She leaned in and gave me a hug.

I was about three inches taller than Nana, but she was strong. While Nonna Albertini looked a little bit like Sophia Loren, Nana O’Shea was all Maureen O’Hara. Blondish-red hair, incredible green eyes, and Irish skin. I took after her somewhat, which was a fact that had always pleased me.

“Come on in,” she said, ushering me inside their log cabin home.

It sprawled over steady ground with mountains all around. In the summer, the flowers bloomed wildly because she had that touch. Her kitchen smelled like Irish stew, and my stomach grumbled. Without being asked, she dished me a bowl and set it on the bar that fronted her stove.

“You need to eat something.”

“Gladly.” I hopped up onto a stool and dug in.

“I’m not going to ask how you ended up almost getting arrested,” she murmured.

The food was delicious. “I’m not going to ask how you already found out.”

She rolled her eyes and walked around behind me, instantly digging her fingers into my neck. “Oh, my goodness. You’re stiff,” she said.

I let my chin drop to my chest as she went to work. Her fingers were magic. She had knots out of knots within no time. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m aware.” She giggled.

I straightened and finished my soup.

She gestured toward the breakfast nook with its view of the pounding storm outside. “All right. Come over here. Do you need energy work?”

“I don’t think I have time today,” I said. “But maybe next week after New Year’s?”

“That sounds good,” she agreed. “It’s been a while since we worked your chakras. However, why don’t you have a cup of tea with me?”

I had known this visit would involve tea, and I was more than ready. So I sat at the round table that overlooked her endless backyard. Even though the snow was piling high, I could still make out her row of holly with its berries alongside the forest.

She pulled open a drawer in her antique hutch and removed several decks of tarot carts. Shuffling them, she started to pull cards and flip them over, working between the beautiful decks. “Hmm, interesting.”

I sipped the tea. It was a wild huckleberry blend that she’d made herself. She had never given any of us the recipe, but I knew it would someday be mine. She’d all but promised me.

“So, I can see a romance,” she said.

“Nana, you already know that.” I gestured to the cards. “I’m seeing Nick Basanelli. Well, kind of. I mean maybe. Sort of.”

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