Scrambling, Thia slammed the chest shut and stuffed the paper into her pocket alongside the mirror. “Coming!”
“Stop dawdlin’ and get your sweet behind—”
“Coming!” Thia hollered, louder this time. Gulping a breath, she dashed for the stairs, stumbling on the steep and far-too-narrow descent and was saved by her hand on the rail. She emerged onto the landing to find her grammy with arms crossed, the Harvard letter clutched in one hand.
“Took you long enough.”
“Sorry,” Thia said hastily, grabbing the stack of blankets from where she’d left them.
“Hurry now.” Her grandma shooed her for the stairs, and Thia scrambled down, leading the way to the basement as another rumble of thunder shook the house.
TWO
THIA SLUMPED ON THE SOFA AND TUCKED HER FEET UNDER HER,THEonly way to sit comfortably when her legs were too short for her feet to touch the ground. The mirror was a sharp weight against her stomach, that perplexing paper an incriminating rustle. She moved to pull it free, ready for answers, but Grandma Winnie was striding toward her, beaming.
She held out the smooth white envelope. “You should do the honors.”
Thia slipped her hand from her pocket, ignoring her findings for the moment, and took the envelope. She peeled the lip as carefully as she could, wincing as she mauled a corner, and slid the letter free.
Dear Ms. Sanbrooke, You’ll find enclosed…
“What does it say?” Grandma Winnie asked, nearly bouncing on her toes.
She skimmed the rest. “It’s an official letter of support from Dr. Laurence.” The head of the department, a long shot under normal circumstances, but the professor happened to be a good friend of Thia’s internship director.
Wrinkled hands came around her, squeezing with delight. “I knew it! You’re a shoo-in now; they’ll have to accept you.” She prattled on about her excitement, her plans to drive Thia there to help her settle in, what the dorms would be like, while Thia’s ears buzzed.
It wasn’t an acceptance but—her grammy was right. It was definitely a good sign. Thia waited for that rush of satisfaction. But she couldn’t seem to process it. She slipped her hand into her hoodie again, caressing the paper. “Grammy,” she started, then repeated when it didn’t register. “Grammy.”
Grandma Winnie paused her chatter, then frowned at the look on Thia’s face. “What?”
Thia ran a hand over her curls, as if smoothing them could calm her insides. “You said mom did her medical degree at KUMC, right?”
Her grammy wetted her lips, momentarily caught off guard. “Class of ‘03.”
Thia stared, chest tightening. That was two years later than the date of the certificate in her pocket. There was no way her mother could have done a medical degree and an occult studies program simultaneously, let alone at another school halfway across the country.
She reached back into her hoodie and tugged the parchment free. “Explain this.” She rose from the sofa and pressed it into her grammy’s chest.
Confusion flitted across Grandma Winnie’s tanned face. But when she smoothed the paper open, it was replaced by horror. “Where did you get this?”
The curl fell over her face again. Thia brushed it back with irritated fingers. “In the attic. Where you….”Hid it,she wanted to say. But that didn’t make sense. If anything, her grammy was always too honest, telling her way more than was appropriate to share with the kid you were raising. But why else keep it in a nook that only existed thanks to an ill-fitting shelf that was never moved?
She didn’t want to believe it until she saw her grammy’s face, heard the guilt-ridden anger in her voice when she said, “You were snooping.”
Thia frowned. “I was looking for flashlights. I knocked one of the boxes.” She jutted her chin at the paper, still in her grammy’s hands. “Was mom even a doctor?”
She still expected Grandma Winnie to deny it, because how could it possibly be true? In all the stories her grammy had ever told her about her parents, there was one overarching thread: Melina was a doctor who loved helping people, and Thia was the same.
But Grandma Winnie only grimaced.
Oh my god.
“Thia,” her grammy started, raising a hand as if to cup her face.
Thia batted it away. “Why the hell would you make that up?”
Her grammy folded her arms. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
