Charlotte scowled.
Again, pointing out the food inspector slip.
“When did you know?” she asked, letting the jab slide.
“When I realized you lived in Estelle’s house. After that it was easy enough to figure out who you are.”
“How—Oh. I put my address on the card at check-in.”
Angelina nodded and stood. “Right. It’s not like I was rifling through your room.” She flashed her toothy grin.
Charlotte turned to stare through the glass balcony doors.
I have a living grandfather. And an aunt!
She couldn’t place the emotions roiling in her core. A little elation. A little fear? Where were these people when her mother died? Where were they when her grandmother died? They didn’t come to get her. If it hadn’t been for Mariska and Frank’s pull with the authorities, she would have been sent to an orphanage. They didn’t even come to the funeral—
Charlotte gasped.
In her mind’s eye she recalled her grandmother’s funeral. She remembered standing between Mariska and Darla, both of them hovering like protective mother birds. It had almost been too much for her then, having so recently lost her mother to then lose her grandmother too, the last person on Earth related to her. Or so she thought.
She’d looked to the side to hide her welling tears from Mariska. She hadn’t wanted her grandmother’s well-meaning neighbor to see her pain and grab and hug her with that suffocating grip again. She wanted to be left alone.
That’s when she saw him. The tall man standing beside a coconut palm on the outskirts of the cemetery, a thin trail of smoke rising from the cigarette between his fingers, clear against the dark wall of clusia bushes growing behind him.
She didn’t know who he was then and he was quickly forgotten when Darla, instead of Mariska, spotted her tears and stooped down to bear-hug her.
Was that my real grandfather lurking on the outskirts of the cemetery?
“I need to see him,” she said.
“Who?”
“Shea. Mick. My grandfather. I have to see him.”
Angelina nodded.
Charlotte forced her attention to the postcards again and pretended to look through them, but her thoughts consumed her sight. She’d gone from no family to twice as much family in the course of a day.
What if she could find Siofra? What would she call her? Aunt Siofra? What about Shea McQueen? Should she call him Grandpa? Pop-Pop? Mick?
“Are you done with those?” asked Angelina.
Charlotte jerked from her daydreaming.
“What? No.”
“You’re done.” Angelina leaned forward and tried to grab the wad of postcards.
Charlotte held them out of reach. “I’m not. I want to think about them.”
“Think later.” Angelina leaned back and sighed. “I’ll let you keep them for a bit.”
“Okay. Thank you. Can I see my grandfather now?”
Angelina smiled, a strange mischievous twinkle in her eye. “First, show me what you have in the shoebox.”
Chapter Fifteen
Charlotte and Angelina took the elevator to room four eleven and Charlotte swiped open the door. Inside, she moved to the safe and plugged in her dog’s name as represented by the number each letter fell in the alphabet. It wasn’t the greatest password, but it would have to have been a thorough thief to come up with it. Certainly, someone with a larger plan than the quick ransacking of a hotel room.
She slid out the shoebox and carried it to the small table positioned to the right of the balcony doors. Angelina sat in one of the matching chairs and Charlotte popped off the lid before moving to the room’s mini-fridge. The salty soy sauce from her sushi lunch had her craving water.
“You can have a look. Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, retrieving a bottle of water.
Angelina held up a hand. “No, thank you. I’m working.”
“I meant water.”
Angelina’s lip curled. “No, thank you.”
Charlotte was about to head back to the table when she noticed an empty spot in the row of tiny airplane bottles lining the inside of the refrigerator door. She paused to count them; two rums, two scotches, one vodka.
I didn’t notice that missing before.
She looked at Angelina. “There’s a vodka missing.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s a vodka missing from my fridge. I didn’t drink it.”
Angelina glanced up. “I’ll let the front desk know not to charge you for it.”
Charlotte stared at her as the woman went back to shuffling through the papers.
Hm.
She couldn’t be certain, but she was starting to think Angelina might be able to lie as easily as she breathed.
Charlotte moved through her room inspecting things for signs of tampering. Nothing seemed out of place other than the vodka. She peeked in the safe again.
Has the shoebox been moved?
She hadn’t thought to really look at it before pulling it out. Her duffle bag sat in the same spot as where she’d left it. But is it tilted a little more to the right?
With a grunt and a silent vow to pay more attention from then on, she took a seat across from Angelina, who continued to paw through the box.
“See anything?” Charlotte asked.
“It’s all long ago and far away.” Angelina held up a child’s drawing of a stick figure with short hair and round black circles for eyes. It looked as though the figure was holding a gun. “She was an adorable kid.”
“He looks like a soldier. Is her father military?”
“Navy.”
“So Mick raised her?”
Angelina snorted a laugh. “That might not be how Siofra described it. But yes.”
“But that’s why there are report cards from so many different schools? He moved her around?”
“They traveled a lot. It’s a long story.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“Maybe some time.” Angelina stood. “I have to get back to work. You can keep
