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There’s little conviction in her voice, and I can’t help feeling like she knows. What I am. What I want from her. Like she knows everything. But that would be impossible.
“Any time.” I reach my hand out for hers. “I’m Teizel, by the way.”
She eyes the offering for a moment before wrapping her small fingers around mine. “Esmeralda.”
I can’t help a smile. Emerald. Of course.
“It was great meeting you, Esmeralda. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to rebut, simply hurrying away. To my surprise, she doesn’t head for the slope that leads down to the parking lot, but to the stone wall behind the cemetery, and starts climbing it. I can’t help a grin from spreading on my lips. My eyes don’t leave her until she’s gone from view on the other side of the wall.
Game is on, little prey.
chapter 4
lavender noose
esmeralda
I hurry back out of the cemetery and into my clunker car, driving foot to the pedal as the graveyard disappears from view, even in my rear-view mirror. The greasy spoon diner down the road looks mighty appealing since I didn’t eat anything on my drive here, but I’m running twenty minutes behind, so I ignore my rumbling stomach and keep going.
I swerve to avoid a massive rain-filled pothole, miss spectacularly, and spray muddy water on the passenger window, flinching on impact. The row of old Victorian mansions creeps up on my right, the houses’ imposing silhouettes standing out against the gray sky. It’s the first landmark to let me know I’m close to home. The next one is the kids’ park — and it might look far more innocuous, but it makes the hair on my arm rise.
A few blocks down the road, the sage green dollhouse cottage comes into view, with its white picket fence and matching trims. It’s a massive punch to the gut. Àvia’s beloved pale pink camellia shrubs under the front windows have yet to bloom this season. They’ve always been her pride and joy.
A short woman in a smart pantsuit is pacing the stone entryway. I park across the street and press the heels of my hands to my eyes, taking a few deep breaths, before dragging myself out of the car. I can do this.
The woman perks up when she sees me. “Esmeralda Parella?”
I nod.
“You’re late.”
I shrug. “Traffic,” I say, as if that’s a perfect explanation.
She scowls, eyeing me like I’m a wild and dangerous thing. Some things truly never change.
“My time is valuable, Miss Parella.”
“Of course. I never meant to imply otherwise.”
She huffs out a breath, reaches into her briefcase for a bunch of keys. I recognize the gecko keychain, and have to clench my jaw to keep the tears at bay. It’s more tattered than I remember, the many colors of the mosaic effect faded to an indistinct bluish tint, one of the legs hanging on by a literal thread.
Plucking the key to the front door, she slips it into the lock and slides it open. The unmistakable scent of Àvia’s home is an assault to my senses. Heaps of lavender and jasmine hang to dry from the fireplace mantel, wafting their aroma throughout the living room; from the kitchen comes the smell of garlic and saffron. They all shouldn’t work together, but they do in a way that is uniquely Àvia.
Memories of afternoons spent making sofregit together grip me by the throat. I’d always complain about how long it’d take, and Àvia’d scold me that you can’t rush perfection, but when I’d lament hunger she’d whip up some toasted bread and make me pa amb tomàquet to hold me over.
“Miss Parella?” the notary calls, bringing me back to reality.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked if we’re ok to sit here.” She motions to the coffee table in front of Àvia’s brown couch.
I nod, and wait for her to settle down with the documents splayed in front of her before I follow. The first piece of paper makes bile rise to my throat. Certificate of death. The notary hardly pays it any mind as she shuffles it back to find something else.
“You’re lucky your grandma’s estate is straightforward,” she says. “We set up the house on a living trust a couple of years ago, so that’s mostly taken care of.”
