“That the Whitmires pulled strings with social services and made Wrenna hand over the baby. Said she was an unfit mother.”
“They took my mom away from her, you’re saying.”
He shrugged.
“And that’s why she hanged herself? Because she no longer had anything to live for?”
“Here’s the thing,” Cole said. “Official word was that she hanged herself, like you said. But no one ever found a body. No note, no clothes left behind. Nothing.”
Willow’s heart gave a little leap. “Is this where Orrin comes in?”
“Yeah, I guess it is. They say that Orrin loved Wrenna something fierce, even after the scandal. And when the baby came along, he loved the baby, too. Through thick and thin, he never stopped loving either one of them.”
Willow’s heart squeezed. It was comforting, knowing her grandmother had had at least one person on her side.
“On the night your grandmother vanished, Orrin vanished, too. So that’s the story. The Whitmires forced Wrenna to hand over the baby. Wrenna did because she had to. But then, in the blink of an eye, she and Orrin managed to skip town together, and neither of them was ever seen again.”
“But how?” Willow asked.
“They say it was the Box.”
Willow stopped walking. “MyBox?”
Cole stopped, too. He shot her a funny look.
Willow huffed. “The Queen’s Box. You know what I mean.”
“Ah. Okay.” He side-eyed her but went back to ambling on down the trail. Willow jogged to catch up.
“Some folks think the Box was evil. That it was carved for bad reasons. But other folks—like me, I guess, and Ruby and Brooxie—we believe that love can change things. Transform them.”
He gave Willow a soft smile. “They say Orrin and Wrenna’s love undid whatever wickedness was inside the Box. That it opened for them and let them pass into something better.”
Willow was filled with a fierce, painful yearning. Yes, yes. She believed that, too.
Ruby and Brooxie’s house appeared when they turned around the next bend. Smoke curled from the chimney, soft against the darkening sky.
“How does Amira fit into it all?” she asked.
Cole mounted the porch steps and reached for the door. “Let’s let the sisters weigh in on that one. They know more than I do.”
Inside, something smelled incredible—rosemary, garlic, something meaty and rich. Ruby glanced back at them from the stove, where she was stirring a pot with a long-handled spoon, and called, “You two made it back alive. Glad to see it.”
“Whatever you’re making smells amazing,” Willow said.
“It’ll be ready in twenty minutes. If you’re famished, there are peanuts on the counter.”
Cole meandered into the kitchen, and Willow followed. He plucked a peanut—boiled, no shell—from the bowl and popped it into his mouth.
“We were talking about Orrin,” he said. “And Wrenna. Willow wants to know how Amira fits in.”
Ruby’s hand stilled on the spoon.
Brooxie, seated at the small kitchen table with a piece of embroidery in her lap, barked a laugh, and not a happy one. “Here we go. Buckle up.”
“She gives me the willies,” Ruby muttered, resuming her stirring. “Nice house in the middle of all that rot? Doesn’t add up.”
Willow thought about the goat girl and the little boy with the bad buzz cut. Ruby had a point. Those kids looked to be practically starving, but once they’d properly entered her property, it was clear Amira was living in the lap of luxury. Creepy, occult luxury, but luxury nonetheless.
