He let go of the door, still smiling.
I shut it and turned the key. The gravel spat beneath my tires as I pulled out, maybe a little faster than I meant to, and turned east on the river road. My heart was still hammering, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the jog or from sparring with Cormac.
Just who was that man?
Ten minutes later, I pulled into my grandparents’ driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. The front porch light was on even though it was full daylight, a habit of my grandmother’s. I ran up the steps, breathless, and pushed the door open without knocking.
“Nana?” I called. “Bampa?”
The smell of baking bread and chamomile tea met me before I saw her. My Nana appeared from the kitchen, wearing gray yoga pants and one of her oversized sweatshirts that read Silverville Strong. Her hair was up in a ponytail.
“Anna, honey.” She came over, wrapping me in a hug that still had the strength of a woman half her age. “Come on in. You look tired. Would you like some tea?”
“I would,” I said, following her into the warm kitchen. The kettle was already on the stove, steam rising in soft ribbons.
She handed me a mug with a chipped blue rim and studied my face. “How’s Aiden?”
“He’s good,” I said, forcing my voice to steady. “He’s got a headache, and he has to take it easy because of the concussion, but they think he’ll be just fine.”
Nana nodded, her mouth softening. “He’s tough and always has been.”
I smiled faintly, wrapping both hands around the mug. The warmth sank into my fingers, chasing away the chill of the morning, and the lingering unease Cormac Coretti left behind.
“Aiden’s a little cranky,” I admitted, settling at the kitchen table while Nana filled the kettle.
She smirked over her shoulder. “I’m surprised he’s still in the hospital. That man never did know how to sit still.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t have much of a choice this time,” I said.
She poured more water into the kettle and set it on the burner. “What can I do for you, honey? You don’t need to help me in the store today. We sold out yesterday. I was going to restock and open again tomorrow. We should all take time off.”
“It was a long night,” I murmured, rubbing my temple. Then I hesitated. “Actually, Nana, I was wondering if you still have the old treasure maps we used years ago? You know, the ones we made from photocopies of the bottom of the silver boxes that held the nuggets?”
Her brow furrowed as she turned toward me. “The maps? Well, yes, but why on earth do you need those? You all looked for treasure half your childhood, and there’s nothing out there but old mining holes and tree roots.”
“I know.” I tried to keep my voice casual. “I just want to see the map again. Something’s been nagging at me.”
She studied me for a second, eyes narrowing just slightly, then sighed. “They’re probably in the living room, second drawer of the credenza—the one with the Monopoly game and all those old cards your cousins kept cheating with.”
“Thanks, Nana.”
I placed my tea on the counter before hurrying into the living room. The space smelled faintly of lemon polish and old books, sunlight cutting through lace curtains to scatter across the wooden floor. I crouched by the credenza, tugged open drawers, and sifted through layers of half-forgotten clutter—playing cards, old photographs, dice, a few scattered Scrabble tiles. Finally, under a stack of faded paper, I found a map.
The paper was creased and soft from age, marked with faint pencil lines and bright crayon swirls from when we were kids. Someone, probably me, had drawn a big X in purple where we thought the treasure might be. I smiled despite myself, running a thumb over the marks. “Thanks, Nana,” I called.
“Wait, don’t you want tea?” she hollered back.
I paused. “Oh. Yeah.”
She rolled her eyes as she came into the doorway, holding a travel mug. “You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t attached. Here.” She handed me a silver Yeti.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it gratefully. The mug was warm and heavy in my hands.
“Tell me you’re not going to do anything dangerous,” she said, giving me that sharp look only grandmothers could manage.
“Not at all,” I said honestly. In fact, I was probably on the wrong track. But still, it was all I had right now.
Her eyes narrowed. “Anna.”
