“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I assured her. “She taught me discipline. I may not have agreed at the time, but looking back, it was definitely something I needed help with. Especially once I discovered girls.” I flashed her a mischievous grin.
She snorted. “Those pesky girls. So, what happened to Gladys? Did you keep in touch with her?”
I turned into the parking lot of the condo complex where we were meeting the realtor.
“I did,” I said. “At least, for a while. I lost track of her not long after the band made it big. I tried to get in touch with Mr. Fink, but the number I had for him wasn’t good anymore. Wherever they are, I hope they’re happy. They deserve all the good things in life.”
“So do you, you know.” There was a softness in McKenzie’s eyes when they met mine as I put the car in park. “Do you ever think about trying to find your parents?”
“I did when I was younger, but not anymore,” I answered. “Even if they tried to reach out to me, I wouldn’t respond. Too much time has passed. I don’t wish them any ill will, but I don’t wish them well either.”
“But what if we could find Gladys?” she asked as we climbed out of the car and onto the sidewalk.
“I think it’s better I don’t,” I said, letting out a long, slow breath. “At this point, the woman would be in her eighties, if she’s even alive at all. She might not even remember me.”
McKenzie’s lips quirked as I held open the door to the lobby.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“What’s that face for?”
She nudged me with her elbow. “I don’t think you could be so easily forgotten.”
“Sugar,I think I’ve shown you just about everything I’ve got.” Darcey Dubois drummed her dagger-like nails against the granite countertop in the fifth unit she’d displayed. We’d traversed the city with her showing us different high-rise apartments and penthouses, but they all felt sterile. Each one was filled with white walls and sleek lines, void of anything that resembled a home.
I scrubbed my hands down my face before exchanging glances with McKenzie.
“Surely you’ve got something else,” McKenzie said, pressing her palms against the bar.
“I thought that penthouse over in Germantown was lovely,” Darcey said, lightly touching her teased red hair, ensuring there wasn’t a single strand out of place. “The square footage was amazing for the price.”
“It was,” I said. “It was just…kind of bland.”
“But you’d be within walking distance of everything. All the restaurants and shopping, not that you do your own,” Darcey said, her heels clicking against the checkered tile.
“I don’t mind driving,” I said.
“Do you have anything that’s not smack-dab in the middle of the city?” McKenzie asked.
Darcey clicked her tongue, digging her phone out of her handbag. She pursed her crimson lips, swiping her finger over the screen.
“Well, there is one place,” she said finally. “But it might as well be in another country.”
“How far is it?” McKenzie asked.
Darcey grimaced. “About thirty minutes. It’s in Leipers Fork. It belongs to an artist who’s been living abroad for a few months. The place looks like it belongs to a bunch of hobbits.”
McKenzie snorted. “Do you have any pictures?”
Darcey nodded, handing her the phone.
I stepped behind McKenzie so I could look over her shoulder. My chest touched her back, and I caught a whiff of flowers on her hair.
“These are some wealthy hobbits,” McKenzie said, stifling a laugh.
The place was decidedlynota home for hobbits and looked more like a cottage out of a storybook. Ivy lined the stone walls outside, and it was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence and a garden filled with greenery. The inside was cozy, well-lit, and full of personality from its blue-painted front door to the sunroom that overlooked the backyard. It looked smaller than the other places Darcey had shown us, but the charming outdoor space more than made up for that.
