Goldie cleared her throat and glanced away. She couldn’t keep staring at him.
“Any word from your aunt?” he asked as they sped toward town.
“Not yet,” she said. “I promise, I’m not making that up just to stay at your B & B.”
He slid her glance. “I never thought you were. I told you. You’re not an inconvenience, Goldie.”
She dipped her head. “Thanks.”
“What are you going to do in the meantime?”
“I was thinking, if you have time, maybe you can give me a tour of your ranch.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that fascinating.”
“It is to me,” she said. “I’ve only ever seen anything like it on TV. I’d love to see the grounds.”
“Okay then. You tell me why you drove halfway across the country to see an aunt you could have just called on the phone, and you’ve got your tour.”
“Deal,” she said. “But only once we’re seated.”
“Deal,” he said.
Stano’s was a small place that she probably wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out. It was tucked away, behind a larger and more up-to-date law firm, Johnson-Washbuckle-and-Wilson. That was a doozy of a name if she’d ever seen one, and she pointed it out to Adrian, who laughed.
The parking lot was crammed with cars. Inside, the venue was stuffy and crowded, and there wasn’t much room in the waiting area, which gave Goldie a convenient reason to stand closer to Adrian.
A waitress approached and welcomed them, announcing it would be at least a twenty-minute wait. From the way the seats were filled, she wasn’t surprised.
“We also have seating outside,” the waitress added, “if you’re interested.”
Adrian glanced at Goldie. “What do you think? It’s a nice night.”
“Outside sounds good to me.”
The waitress led them through the cramped tables, the clatter of dishes, and noisy heat. A narrow exit was hidden behind the farthest booth where an elderly couple was seated and enjoying their meals.
Cool air was a welcome change. The veranda out back was sedate, quiet, and peaceful. Soft guitar music wafted beneath a latticed scaffold where fat bulbs offered mediocre light. It impressed Goldie to find the music wasn’t drifting from a speaker, but from a live performer wearing a cowboy hat, flannel shirt, and jeans standing behind a microphone. This was definitely more romantic. Er…spacious, she mentally corrected.
“Sit wherever you’d like,” the waitress directed.
“Where to?” Adrian asked.
Goldie pointed to a vacant table near a trickling water fountain and pave stones serving as the man’s stage. The guitar case was open at his feet and a small amplifier hanging at his belt spread the music across the small garden.
Instead of sitting across from her at the small, square table, Adrian took the metal seat right next to her. After giving them time to peruse the menu, the waitress returned with their drinks, and they ordered. Simultaneously, the guitarist on his landscaped stage ended his song. Goldie lifted her hands, ready to applaud him when she was greeted by crickets.
She glanced around. Did they not clap for people’s performances around here?
When the waitress left again, Adrian settled his chair closer in and drew her attention to him. “So?”
Goldie chewed her lip. Right. Their deal.
“My whole life it’s only been my parents and me. I never had cousins. No living grandparents. No other family. I always thought we were it, the only Bybankses around. But then, at the beginning of the month, I received this letter. Who sends letters anymore, right?”
“Sure,” Adrian said, giving her his full attention.
The waitress delivered their salads, and Goldie thanked her before continuing, leaving her Cobb salad with ranch dressing untouched.
“This letter was from Bethany Harold. Harold was my mother’s maiden name. She claimed she was my mom’s sister. She—well, look.”
Goldie unzipped her purse and pulled out the correspondence. She handed it to Adrian as he took a bite of salad.
He finished chewing and took it, his eyes scanning its contents. She knew the letter by heart by now.
Your mom insisted I stay out of your life and for good reason. I agreed to it long ago, but it’s time. You’re an adult, and if I don’t do it now, I’ll always regret it. I’d love to meet you. To explain in person.
Jacey won’t be too happy about me contacting you like this, but far away as I am, I would love to meet you. If you feel in your heart you could make the trip, would you consider coming here to Two Pines? I’d be happy to provide a place for you to stay. It would mean a lot for me to get to know you, as I never had any children to call my own.
Email might be best. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Love, Aunt Bethany
Adrian’s forehead crinkled. He passed the letter back to her. “But she hasn’t responded to you?”
“No, she hasn’t. I emailed her almost immediately.”
“Was your mother really that bothered?” he asked. “That she contacted you?”
Goldie took a bite of her salad. “Yeah. We had the juiciest argument we’ve had in a long while.”
“Why?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t she want you to meet your aunt? Why did she lie to you about her existence? A lie of omission, I guess, if it was something she just kept from you, but still, a lie.”
“I don’t know,” Goldie said. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I drove out here in spite of my terrible sense of direction, and why I did it without even having heard back from her. I had to know.”
“You mean she didn’t email you back before you left?”
“She did. She replied to the first email I sent saying I was always welcome. I sent her another to let her know I was leaving, and—nothing.”
“Strange,” Adrian said. “Do you know anything about her? What she does for work?”
Goldie shook her head. “No, and my mother would be annoyingly superior if I called to admit as much to her. She’s already giving me the silent treatment. I haven’t heard from her since I left.” Not
