If it made Jackie Wilkes yawn, there’s zero chance I’ll find anything helpful.
“I thought you might have a guess what he meant?”
Silence.
I’m sure she’s secretly laughing at me. This woman is so not the guessing type.
“I’m afraid I can’t speculate, Miss Blackthorn.” Her voice softens. “You know your grandfather was notoriously private with family affairs. He didn’t provide me with any long explanations—not in your brother’s case and not in yours. My only role ends with executing his last wishes. If I could read his mind, so much would be less complicated.”
Believe me,I know.
But it doesn’t answer my questions, and they gnaw at my belly.
Not her fault, though.
So I just doodle my signature in the corner of my shoe design.
“I get it, just thought I’d check. Thanks, Jackie.”
“Certainly. Is there anything else I can help with?”
Unless she has a time machine so I can ask my grandfather what the hell he meant, no. I shake my head, even though she can’t see me, and lean back in my chair.
I think the drumming downstairs has stopped.
“No, but thanks again. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”
“Understood.” Jackie hesitates, then adds, uncharacteristically, “Good luck with the hunt, Miss Blackthorn. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay. He loved the old house passionately.”
“Yes, he did. Thanks,” I mutter, trying not to tear up.
I disconnect and slump down in my seat, boneless.
After everything Ethan went through to inherit Blackthorn Holdings, he’s the only one who could understand what I’m feeling.
It must be bad when I start wishing my dumb brother was here.
If only to help me survive Gramps’ last game, without the Saints complicating everything.
The old housemight be worn down, but it’s surprisingly noise resistant.
When I wake up in the morning, eye mask still on, I discover that even though I forgot my earbuds, I slept pretty well.
Soft gold sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains.
My body has that warm, pleasant feel after a deep sleep. Given how I’ve slept recently, it’s probably overdue.
Just weird that it hit here of all places.
I swing my feet out of bed and listen.
Nothing.
The only sign I’m not alone in the house is the tantalizing scent drifting through my closed door.
My stomach rumbles. I realize I skipped out on dinner yesterday between getting unpacked and everything sorted after so much drama.
First thing’s first—I need to get showered and dressed.
