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With their bellies full, Maya and Phoebe decided to walk to the bed and breakfast to stretch their legs. On their way, they spotted Brad on the opposite sidewalk, wearing all black spandex, on a run. Maya had never seen him doing something so “normal,” and she laughed happily as he bounded through the snow to reach them. His face was blotchy, and it took him a moment to catch his breath.
“This is embarrassing!” he said.
“Why?” Maya cleared the distance between them and kissed him.
“You’ve been feeding me like crazy,” Brad said. “I had to work it off sometime.”
“Is that so?” Maya laughed.
“Mom is like that,” Phoebe assured him. “She’s food obsessed.”
“A woman after my own heart,” Brad said, his eyes still on Maya. “Did you do any heirloom hunting this morning?”
“No.” Maya slapped her thigh. “To tell you the truth, I’m beginning to make peace with never finding it. I’d much prefer to learn some family secrets and get to know my aunt. Actually, we’re on our way to chat with Felicity about something.” She bowed her head to add, “Someone has to know who that baby in the photograph is. Secrets don’t stay secret for long around here.”
Brad and Maya kissed again to say goodbye, and then Brad whipped out across the sidewalk again, moving quicker than he had before.
“He’s showing off,” Maya joked.
“Naw,” Phoebe said. “You gave him the power he needed to keep going.”
When they reached the bed and breakfast, they found Tom and Winnie sharing coffee and croissants in the main room while Felicity set to work on a French-inspired stew in the kitchen. She wore her typical apron, and she flashed from counter to counter with the energy of a woman half her age. When Maya asked if they could present a “very delicate question” about the history of the Albright family, Felicity stopped short, dried her hands on her apron, and said, “What is it?” She looked nervous.
Maya removed the photograph from the notebook and placed it on the kitchen table. “This is my mother,” she said. “But I don’t know who the baby is.”
Felicity frowned and got closer to the photograph to inspect it. “That’s Bethany Albright, absolutely,” she breathed. “I was a little bit younger than her. But that’s the same teenager I remember traipsing up and down Main Street with her older sister, Veronica.”
Maya’s heartbeat quickened. She wished there had been video footage of that so she could watch Bethany and Veronica glide hand-in-hand along the sidewalk, perhaps flirting with boys or looking in shop windows.
“We were wondering if maybe this was Veronica’s baby?” Maya went on. “Veronica would have been eighteen or nineteen when this photo was taken. Maybe she had a baby who died young?”
Felicity removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. After a long pause, she sighed. “I never heard of any baby born to an Albright in 1971.”
Maya felt deflated. If Felicity didn’t know, it was probable that nobody in Hollygrove did.
“It could be a cousin’s child?” Phoebe suggested.
Felicity shrugged. “I never knew much about the Albright cousins. It very well could be.”
Phoebe and Maya made brief eye contact. Maya put the photograph away as Felicity buzzed back toward the other side of the kitchen and poured them two mugs of coffee, insisting they stay for a little while. They couldn’t refuse.
In the living room, Tom peppered Maya with more questions about her hunt for the heirloom necklace. “If you can’t find it, will your aunt still let you keep the mansion?”
“Mr. DeWitt said as long as I plan the Christmas Festival, I can keep the mansion,” Maya said. “If I don’t find the heirloom necklace, I suppose I’ll have to sell the place.”
“Or run it like a hotel,” Phoebe said, echoing a thought Maya had already had.
“How exciting!” Felicity said. “I can show you the ropes on that.”
Maya’s heart fluttered. “Maybe I can get Winnie and Tom to stay in Hollygrove and work at the hotel?”
“Hollygrove is almost Hollywood,” Phoebe joked.
“Very close,” Tom agreed, smiling. He glanced at Winnie lovingly and added, “But Winnie and I are getting back on the road soon.”
“I’m done traveling alone for a while,” Winnie said wistfully. “Tom convinced me to go south for the winter.”
“South for the winter; Europe for the summer,” Tom affirmed, puffing his chest out.
