Page 55 of Royal Agenda

If he was not careful, he would also be like Romeo and his family situation would lead to tragedy for both of them.

He would need to proceed with caution and yet be bold. Grace deserved a man who knew his heart and acted fearlessly in his efforts to woo her.

He was and would be that man no matter what his SEAL bodyguards said about it.

Twenty

“What in the world?”

Grace’s head came up at the aghast note in Grandma’s voice, and she grimaced. In her efforts to forget about Ryker, she’d thrown herself into work like a good Matthews would. Post-it notes covered the wall next to her, color-coded by generation. Papers covered the table, and her laptop was open with no less than seventeen tabs. Colored pens and pencils littered the area. Not even the chair next to her escaped as it had three books with multi-colored tabs stacked upon two plain paper spiral notebooks and lots of loose sheets.

“Sorry about the mess, Grandma. I’m in the middle of researching and, I, well, I tend to think big.” She tossed her pen on the table and leaned back in her seat. A string from her cutoff shorts tickled her leg, and she yanked it off, throwing it in the nearby trash.

Grandma sat in the one free chair and sifted through the papers. “It’s gibberish.”

Grace wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Grandma had taken to reading pedigree charts as easily as income sheets. They made sense to her. This line went to that person and those lines were their parents. Order. Just like a balance sheet, there was a lot of work that went into filling out those lines.

“It’s clues. This one,” she pointed at the sheet Grandma held, “is the mother and father, with the church they were married in and the date. I have their marriage record open in this tab.” She pointed to her laptop screen.

“Thomas and Margaret,” Grandma read. “Who are these people?”

Grace allowed herself a quiet victory in the fact that Grandma referred to them as people and not numbers or pieces of paper. It was a small step that represented a rather large change in her thinking. “They’re a client’s ancestors. These are their children: Richard, Henry, Thomas, Mary, and Margaret.” She motioned to another paper.

“The mothers named their daughters after themselves?”

Grace nodded. “It was quite common during that time, though it’s fallen out of style.”

Grandma took a moment to look things over again. “What’s the problem? Why do you look upset?”

“There’s another child in the family; I can’t find a record of her.”

Grandma frowned. “Then how do you know there is one?”

Grace bit her lower lip. What she was about to share would take a giant leap in thinking patterns for Grandma to accept. Sometimes, she had more than intuition to go off of, though she rarely told anyone about it. She held her breath as she spoke, “She keeps telling me not to forget her.”

Grandma went still. “Are you telling me there’s a ghost in this room?” She turned slightly and looked over her shoulder and then under the table. “Please don’t tell Rosa. I’ll never get her to come visit if she thinks ghosts come here.”

“There’s not a ghost.” The only ghosting happening in her life was Ryker. She’d tried to call him earlier, and after one ring, his voicemail came on. Talk about a rejection! It stung so strongly that she’d contemplated running away from Diamond Cove. But she wasn’t ready to leave Grandma just yet, and not having a place to run to would make her a coward.

Grace paused and then said, “Not a ghost like you’re thinking—not like Chester in the library.” She’d heard about Chester in one of her classes this week. Rosa crossed herself three times while relaying all she knew about the supposed ghost who played pranks on the librarian, moved things around, and blew out candles. Grace was unconcerned about Chester but very concerned that someone had taken candles into a library full of dry books! Who does that?

“Tell me,” Grandma leaned forward.

Grace searched her face and found sincerity. She moved slowly into the explanation. “Most of the archived records online aren’t gathered as families. They’re entered as individuals based on an event. For example, when a child is born, the archivist enters the child and then enters both parents. If there’s more than one child in the family, the parents are entered every time. So they are these little two-to-three people groups of records. My brain picks up on the patterns of names and dates in the records—a name kind of pops out at me, and I see it over and over again. It’s obvious that they’re the same parents.” She paused to see if Grandma followed her explanation.

Grandma nodded for her to continue.

“Anyway, I organize them into families, consolidate records, and update the database. Like this.” She clicked on a tab to show the pedigree chart she’d spent the morning compiling. “It helps other researchers and,” she paused, “I don’t know. I feel like the families want to be together, and they’re happy when I do this.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She’d never told another soul the reason she spent time creating families.

Grandma tipped her head. “What did you mean the little girl talked to you?”

“Umm,” she rubbed her lips together. “I can feel her.” There was no cold brush over her skin nor shiver up her spine. The experience was warm and kind, like a tap on the arm from a shy child. Her feelings were never dark or sinister—they were beautiful and full of light. She continued, “She’s a little thing with a little voice. I’m guessing she died very young. She asked me not to forget her in the family chart. I wouldn't, but I can’t seem to find her.”

Grandma’s chin dropped, and she studied the papers. “There has to be a clue in here.”

“You believe me?” Grace blurted. Of all the people in her life, Grandma Nancy was the most practical. Things like ghosts and spirits and hearing voices didn’t have a place in her life of cleaning products, business meetings, and organizational charts.

Grandma smiled softly. “We all have gifts. Yours is . . . a bit . . . different, but it has a purpose. Let’s see if I can help you find this little girl.”

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