Ishrugged, not caring at all about small talk and making nice with the man whobetrayed my sister and broke her heart. “Fine. Um, so listen. I need to ask yousomething, okay? And it’s really serious.”
“Okay,”he replied slowly. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Haveyou heard anything from Grace?”
Matthummed contemplatively, taking a moment to think, before replying, “Honestly, Ihaven’t talked to her in months.”
Idon’t know why I blew out a breath of disappointment and despair. I knew shewouldn’t have reached out to him before us, but I was slowly burning throughall my resources and to no avail.
“Okay,”I replied, wiping a hand over my face. “Thanks, anyway.”
“Why?Everything okay?”
Smilingat the genuine concern in his voice, I said, “I hope so. We just haven’t heardanything from her in a couple of days now. She was supposed to come homeyesterday from Scotland, but she wasn’t on the plane.”
“Andyou tried calling her?”
“Obviously,”I groaned.
“Whatabout the inn?”
Inarrowed my eyes, recalling something my mother had said in one of her manyphone calls, and said, “My mom tried last night but the line was busy. Not sureif she got a hold of them, but I’mgonnagive them acall now.”
“Thereyou go. Get a hold of them. I’m sure she’s fine, though,” he said, so certainof the careful Grace we’d all grown to love.
“Yeah,I’mgonnado that,” I replied, nodding withdetermination. Then, I found myself adding, “She did meet a guy the othernight,” as if itwasanother piece to this puzzle.
“See?She probably just had a great time, got drunk, and had the hangover from Hell.She’s fine.”
Afterthanking him for the suggestion, I hung up and went in search of the number forthe inn she’d been staying at, not wanting to disturb my parents, in case theyhad found sleep. The town of Fort Crow was well-loved by the people who knew ofit and had been there, but it wasn’t a hot tourist attraction, and so it took abit of searching to find what I’d been looking for. But when I eventually did,I dialed the number and listened to the phone ring twice before a melodic voiceanswered.
“TheWhisperin’ Crow Inn. What can I do for ye?”
Icleared my throat and sat up straighter in my chair. “Um, yes, hi. I wasactually wondering about one of your guests, Grace—”
“I’mso sorry, miss. I don’t have the authority to begivin’out the personal information of our guests.”
Ihad expected this, and I gripped the phone tighter in my hand, as I said, “No,I understand, butshe’smy sister. She was supposed tocome home yesterday but I haven’t heard—”
“Haveye triedcallin’ her, dear?”
Slappinga hand to my forehead, I sighed. “Yes. I’vebeencalling her, but I’mnot getting any answer. And I wasreally justhopingyou could tell me if she had checked out, or, or if she was even still there. Ijust …” I took a deep breath, calming my emotions, then continued, “Please. Ijust want to know if she’s okay.”
Ilistened to the woman on the other line sigh, as if Iwasasking her to break the law, before saying, “All right, just give me a momenthere. What did ye say her name was?”
Reliefwashed over me, and I clutched my hand over my heart. “Oh, God, thank you somuch. Um, her name is Grace. Grace Allan.”
“Allright, let me see …” I listened to the clacking of computer keys as she typedand then said, “Ah,y’see, she hasn’t checked outyet, lass.”
“Butshe was supposed to check out yesterday,” I muttered aloud, covering my mouthwith a hand. “God, Gracie, where the hell are you?”
“Isthereanythin’ else I can do for ye, miss?” the womanon the phone asked uncomfortably.
Ishould have asked her to check on Grace. I should have asked that she went upto her room and demanded that she give her worried big sister a call. But Ididn’t. Instead, I reluctantly told her no and that I’d call later if I neededanything else, then hung up, determined to go about the rest of my day in asomewhat normal manner.
So,I decided to make some breakfast and woke TJ up, asking him if he was in themood for pancakes. We ate together in silence, while he stared at hisphoneand I tried desperately not to think about Grace andwhat she was doing. After breakfast, I dusted the furniture and vacuumed thefloors. I polished the kitchen hardware and buffed my grandmother’s crystal toa pristine shine.All ofthis busywork and yet none ofit really kept me busy at all, not in my head, where I constantly worried aboutGrace and what she was doing.
“She’sfine,” I scolded myself, wondering how many times I’d have to say it before theinstinctive feeling in my gut finally dissipated to nothing.
