“Your mother, Margret, is one of four children.”
“Four! You mean I have aunts and uncles?”
Technically, but I don’t need to go into details about them just yet.
“Yes. And you have grandparents.”
“Grandparents?” she says, her eyes welling up. “Really? Like, actual grandparents? Like two old people who sit in rockers and throw shoes at the street youth for being a nuisance to the neighborhood? Two old people who smile when they fart? Who call youhoneyand wear small blankets over their shoulders because they’re always cold? Two old people who talk about sciatica and send you five-dollar bills in a birthday card? That kind of grandparents?”
Not so much.
If Theo or Katla ever smiled while they farted, I wouldn’t be sure what to fucking do.
“No,” I answer honestly. “They aren’t that kind of grandparents.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders sag. “I always wanted old, cranky grandparents. When I was young, we lived across from this old couple. We weren’t friends with them, but I would sit on my porch and watch them from across the street as they yapped and yelled at the kids riding their bikes. I found it endearing. Sometimes I wished that they had been my grandparents. I even asked—”
“They are King Theodore and Queen Katla,” I say, unable to deal with her jabbering.
“Excuse me?”
“From Torskethorpe.”
“Torske-what-now?”
“Torskethorpe, a small island in the Scandinavian waters, just north of the British Isles.”
“Torskethorpe?” she asks, her nose curling up. “That, uh... that doesn’t really roll off the tongue well, does it?” She pauses and then says, “Wait, you saidKingTheodore andQueenKatla.”
“Correct.”
“Hold on.” She blinks a few times. “Are youreallytrying to tell me that these long-lost grandparents I’ve never heard of in my entire life just happen to be royalty of some far-off country that frankly I don’t even believe is on a map? Torksy-to-da, was it? Dude, that was not in my geography books.”
“Yes, I am.”
The corner of her lip twitches.
Her eyes flit around the empty rooftop.
She smiles.
She chuckles nervously.
And then she stands from the couch. “Okay, Fitzy—”
“My name is Keller.”
“Whatever it is, this is some fucked-up reality show.” She grabs her clutch from the coffee table and tucks it under her arm. “You must have done some serious research to prey on an innocent girl with a secret yearning to learn more about her family.” She scoffs. “Wow, you really are a little, little man. I hope karma comes back and deliberately places a painful zit on the tip of your dick.” She spins on her heel, the fabric of her dress floating against the wind, and as she takes her first step away, Brimar blocks her departure with his large body.
“Lilly, I suggest you sit down,” I say.
Her eyes widen as she turns toward me. “You can’t possibly believe you can detain me. I’ll have you know, that I have some serious friends in the Miami Police Department. They will take you out.”
Fuck, she’s feisty. This is why I prepared.
Hoping it wasn’t going to come to this, I take out my phone, unlock the screen, and go to my pictures. I find one of her mom and point it to her. “Does she look familiar?”
Lilly leans in, taking a closer look, and when recognition crosses her face, she slowly lowers back down to the couch as she takes the phone from me.
