Nan and Charles sat in the living room, sipping on matching mugs of hot cocoa topped with giant heaps of marshmallow fluff. He wasn’t a big fan of tea, so Nan kept this alternate hot drink around mostly just for him.
Paisley had cuddled into Nan’s side, and Octo-Cat sat on his favorite perch looking out the window. More than likely, he’d been keeping tabs on me this whole time.
They all looked so cozy and content. I almost felt bad for disturbing that peaceful moment, but then I remembered that I was the one who’d been wronged, lied to. And for my entire life. Wow.
I stood frozen at the edge of the living room, the birth certificate and letter clutched between shaking hands. Where could I possibly begin?
“Hey! You can’t just take people’s things without asking!” Pringle cried from the foyer. Apparently, he’d followed me inside despite our rule that he wasn’t allowed in the house. That snapped me right out of my deer-in-headlights moment.
And I turned on him so fast, he reared back in fright. “Are you really lecturing me on decorum right now?” I demanded, hand on hip. “You can’t expect things from others when you’re not willing to do the same for them.”
Charles set his mug onto the coffee table and approached me carefully. “Angie, is everything all right, sweetie?”
“No, it’s not!” I fumed, hating that I’d yelled at him now, too. None of this was his fault. Or Octo-Cat’s. Or Paisley’s. Or really even Pringle’s.
“What’s that you have, dear?” Nan asked, remaining seated firmly in her favorite chair. It was her. She’d caused the pain that threatened to rip my heart right in two. The very same woman who’d taught me the importance of honesty as a child had lied to me my entire life.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” I strode over to her and dropped both pieces of paper into her lap.
My grandmother froze. It seemed as if even her heart stopped beating for a moment before she gingerly plucked the papers from her lap and set them on the coffee table. “I haven’t the foggiest,” she told me as she calmly delivered both mugs to the kitchen sink and then started up the stairs.
“Oh, no!” I shouted, charging after her. “You are not getting away that easily! What is this, and why didn’t I know about it? Does mom know about it?”
Nan remained silent as she climbed the steps at her normal pace. It was almost as if I weren’t there at all.
“Hey, why aren’t you answering me?” I demanded as a new wave of tears began to sting my eyes.
Nan reached her bedroom door, then turned back to me. Her voice was quiet and almost completely devoid of emotion as she said, “I’m sorry, dear, but I’m not feeling too terribly well all of a sudden. I think I’ll just excuse myself to bed for the evening.”
Before I could argue, she slipped into the room and clicked the door shut behind her. Still shocked by what I’d learned, and even more so by the fact that my normally talkative grandmother refused to discuss it with me, I twisted the knob hard and pulled.
But it wouldn’t budge.
Locked out by my own grandmother!
I pounded on the door instead. “You’re going to have to talk about it with me eventually!” I shouted into the wooden barrier.
A warm hand brushed my arm, causing me to jump in my skin.
“C’mon,” Charles said, gently guiding me back toward the grand staircase. “It seems like you both could use some space to work things out right about now.”
“Did you read it?” I asked through the hot tears that flowed freely now. “Did you read the letter?”
He nodded, his mouth a tight bow.
“What do you think it means?” I asked, my voice cracking partway through that awful question.
“I hate to guess at it.” His voice remained soft, comforting. “It’d be much better if we heard from Nan directly.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, she doesn’t seem to be too keen on sharing. Do you think this means she’s not my real nan?”
“Of course, she’s your real nan. She raised you. She’s been there your whole life. The letter—whatever it means—it doesn’t change anything.”
“What about my mom, though? Is she the Laura on the birth certificate? Is that what the letter is about? Did her dad give her to Nan for some reason? And does her real mom even know what happened to her?” It was all too horrible to even think about. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop doing just that.
Charles sat on the couch and opened his arms, inviting me to cuddle against him. “I know it’s all so confusing and upsetting right now, but I promise you it will be okay. Whatever this is, it doesn’t change who your nan is, who you are.”
I laughed again. Angry. “If it’s no big deal, then why would she keep it a secret all these years? Why would she refuse to talk about it now?”
“I don’t know the answers to those questions, but I’ll be here to help you figure them out for yourself.” He pressed a warm kiss to my forehead.
“I can’t,” I sobbed, all my hot-headed energy ebbing away.
Charles just hugged me tighter. “What do you mean you can’t? You’re Angie Russo, Pet Whisperer P.I. You’re the woman who solved her first official case in less than an hour. That’s pretty incredible.”
Oh, yeah, I guess Julie’s case was solved. Pringle had admitted to taking the mail and banging up the mailboxes. All I had to do is offer him something he wanted more than whatever secrets he thought he might find, and he’d be sure to stop.
Case solved. Whoop-de-do.
I tried to smile but couldn’t. Instead, Charles held me as I cried into his nicely pressed work shirt.
The one person I’d trusted most in this entire world had kept something monumental from me. If I couldn’t rely on her to be honest with me, then who could I count on?
Charles stroked my hair and made soothing noises, reminding me that there was at least one person in my corner, no matter what.
Octo-Cat jumped onto the couch beside me and licked my hand tentatively. Okay, one person and one cat—and probably one dog, too. Though I had no doubt Paisley was busy comforting Nan right about now.
I ran my fingers through Octo-Cat’s silky fur, appreciating his friendship more than ever in that moment.
“Angela, I can see you are quite upset,” he murmured, proving just how far we’d come since fate first flung us together. “Does this mean we’re out of Evian?”
Leave it to my cat to put things into stark perspective.
“No. Don’t worry,” I said with a chuckle, feeling lighter already. “We have plenty of Evian.”
I scratched him between the ears and then pulled myself up from the couch. A nice cool glass of Evian would do us all good right about then.