“Hi there. How can I help you today?” An older woman with cropped hair sits at the desk.
“I’m looking for Deb Campbell.”
“Oh, are you her granddaughter?”
Her immediate recognition has dread settling in my gut. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh yes, she’s fine. She asked me to give you this.”
“What?” I grab the sheet of paper she holds out and open it. Her familiar scrawl is short and sweet.
Stevie,
Hi love. Eve and I have a new address. If you’re reading this, you probably already figured it out. I’ll see you when you get here.
Xoxo
Nan
I stare at the address—completewith a security code for a gate—before stuffing it into my back pocket. What the hell? A note and an address?
“Has she been okay lately?” I ask the woman sitting behind the desk.
“Deb? Oh, she’s been great. Although, she’s gotten on some of the ladies’ bad sides because she keeps winning at bridge.”
I smile at that. Of course she has. I don’t know how someone can have a knack for winning at bridge, but Nan does. Maybe that’s where I get my skills. But I don’t doubt she’s on the bad side of all the players here.
Playing for candy bars is big stakes.
“I appreciate you passing this along.” I hold up the note. “Did someone else move into her place?”
“They did.”
I shake my head. “Of course. Thank you.”
Now that I know she’s fine, annoyance takes over. Heading outside, the heat takes my breath away.
She really couldn’t have sent this via text? Or hell, I don’t know, let me know she moved? Not exactly the way to find out your Nan is no longer living in the same place.
How am I the more responsible of the two of us?
My car door creaks as I open it and roll down the windows. I gave up on fixing the air in here a long time ago. Punching the address into my phone, I notice it’s in one of the nicer parts of Nashville.
“What in the world is going on?” I say to myself. “Where did you go, Nan?”
Sweeping my hair into a high ponytail to keep it off my neck, I slide my sunglasses on. There’s not the slightest sign of a breeze as I navigate late afternoon traffic.
This is one of the reasons I don’t like living in Nashville. It seems no matter what time of day you’re out, the roads are packed. Everyone is here to try and make it in the music scene, and that is not my cup of tea.
Hell, even if I had lofty ambitions, those would be taking a backseat right now. I need somewhere safe to lick my wounds after being dumped.
Except now, I have no idea where I’m going.
With each turn the GPS directs me, I’m driving past fancier and fancier houses. A far cry from the shabby downtown apartment I was living in. Coming to the neighborhood entrance, I type out the four-digit code on the paper and wait for the gates to open.
“Holy shit.”
Each house sitting off the main road is massive. Red brick. Gray stone. A light sage hardwood. It’s like each house is trying to show up the other. I’m pretty sure the one I just passed has a turret. If a witch flew out of there, I wouldn’t be surprised.
