Page 269 of The Romance Adventure

“How’s it coming?”

“We’re between before and after, but so far, so good.”

I get another kiss.

“Remember how I mentioned Chip left me his journal?” He picks up a leather book tied with a leather lace from the coffee table. “I know it’s asking a lot of you—fixing up the Sip & Scoop with me, but I’m wondering if you’d read this too.”

Ryan passes it to me. The journal looks smaller in his hands than it does in mine, which must be why he’s so enthusiastic about all of Luke’s baby-sized things.

I turn it over and smooth my palm along the cover. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Seems like it’s private.”

“Probably. But I can’t read it.”

“Because of what it might contain or something else?”

“Kind of. Open it and you’ll see what I mean.”

Not feeling good about opening Ryan’s grandfather’s diary, I hesitantly untie the lace securing it.

“I want to help my brothers. I want to find the missing stone. Or at least try to. This has to be a key.”

When I part the cover, an envelope falls out. Compared to the dry, yellowed paper in the journal, the envelope is crisp, white, and sealed with a wax monogram CVA. I pass it to Ryan.

He studies it, and like me, he hesitates to open it. “This is Chip’s seal with his initials, but I don’t see who it’s addressed to. Maybe no one?”

“Or you, considering it was in the diary and that was the item he wanted you to have.”

“But Chip was so mysterious. Everything meant something.”

“He gave you a pen, right? Maybe you’re supposed to fill it out for him.”

Ryan puffs an exhale. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe there are instructions in the journal.” I glance down at the page and blink a few times.

“Need your glasses?”

“No, it’s not that. You’re right. I can’t read this either.” I trace my fingers over the loopy letters, trying to make sense of the old-fashioned handwriting.

“See? It’s hard to read, right?”

I frown. “I think that’s because it’s not in English.”

“Chip was fluent in Brazilian Portuguese.”

“But you’d be able to read that, wouldn’t you?”

Ryan shrugs. “I’m better at understanding than speaking or reading. But Magnus is fluent. Maybe he can tell us what it says.”

I flip through a few more pages and the same handwriting continues until one page where the ink must’ve run and the words blur. Scooting closer to Ryan, I show him.

“A few of the words are splattered, like whoever wrote it was crying.” I glance up at Ryan. “Or whoever read it was crying.”

“Chip wasn’t an emotional kind of guy.”

“No, but it could’ve been someone else. Does this look like Chip’s handwriting?”

“Not really.”