Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(62)

“She wanted to be buried in Clifton Forge. Let me tell you, that was a shock to learn from her will. But I think she wanted to be by her parents again.”

“So you were in Clifton Forge?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t go. I wasn’t ready to face it yet. I went to Montana to pack up her personal items and get her house on the market. But that was as close as I could get. I wasn’t ready to be in that town where she was . . . you know. But I’m going there next week.”

“You’re coming to Clifton Forge?” My eyes widened.

She nodded. “I want to see it for myself. The funeral home sent me a picture of her gravesite and the mockup of her tombstone but it’s not the same. So I’m making a fast trip out of it next Sunday. Get in and get out. I don’t want to risk running into him.”

Yes, seeing Draven would be bad. “If you need company, I’d be happy to go with you.”

“Thanks, Bryce.” She looked at me with her kind, brown eyes and that pang of familiarity hit again. “I might take you up on that.”

“Please do.” In our short time together, I’d become strangely loyal to Genevieve. If I could help by standing at her side while she visited her mother’s grave, I would.

Not for my story. For this woman who already felt like a friend.

I’d meant what I’d told Genevieve. I’d write something special for Amina. I’d include the cookie recipe. Maybe that would appease some guilt for unexpectedly showing up at her doorstep.

Genevieve took her empty glass to the sink to rinse it out. I stood and brought mine over too, handing it to her. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure.” She laughed. “For a reporter, you haven’t asked many.”

“I was just warming up.” I winked. “Did your mom have anyone else she was close to? A best friend? Or a boyfriend? Others who’d want to talk about her for the story.”

She blew out a long breath. “Mom was dating a guy. Lee.”

I froze, ready to soak up every word about the boyfriend. “Lee.”

“Lee.” She said his name with a curled lip. “In all my life, Mom didn’t date. Not once. But she was different lately. Quieter. And I can’t help but think it was because of him.”

“Were they serious?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s the crazy part. She acted differently but never talked about him. The only reason I even knew about him was because I flew to Bozeman to surprise her one weekend and she had to call Lee and cancel plans. Whenever I’d ask about him, she’d brush it off. Say it was casual. But if you knew Mom, you’d know nothing about her was casual. She held people tight. Her friendships lasted decades.”

“So you didn’t know him?”

She shook her head. “No, we never met. I didn’t even know his last name.”

And there went my lead. “Maybe she was worried you wouldn’t like him.”

“Yeah. That’s what I think too. It was weird for me, her having another person in her life. Mom was good at sensing when I was uncomfortable. I just couldn’t picture her with a boyfriend.” She looked over her shoulder from the sink. The light from the window caught in her eyes, making them glow.

Gah! What was it about her eyes?

“What else can you tell me about her?” I asked. “Something nice you’d like to have other people know.”

“Her smile was always full on. All wide, white teeth. It was like she didn’t know how to give a half smile.” The pain in Genevieve’s smile came back along with a sheen of tears. “She was beautiful.”

“I’d be honored to write that about her. Do you have any pictures? I’d love to include some of your favorites.”

“I’d like that.”

For the next hour, I sat beside Genevieve on her couch as she went through plastic tubs of old pictures and mementos from her childhood. They’d all been at Amina’s house, and though she’d packed them up and brought them to Colorado, she confessed to not having the courage to have gone through them yet.

“Thanks for sitting with me.” She fit the lid on the last box. “I’m sure this was more crazy than you were expecting when you came here. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I put my hand over hers. “I’m glad I could be here.”

The truth was, the longer I sat with Genevieve, the more I liked her. She told story after story about her mother as we looked at old pictures. Ones from road trips the two of them had taken. Photos of a few special camping trips in the Colorado mountains.

Genevieve had told me about how Amina would always give a few dollars to a homeless man begging on a corner, even though as a single mother, she hadn’t had much extra to spare. She’d taught Genevieve to be strong, never quit and to live an honest life.

After hearing it all, I knew my accusations in the garage that Amina could have been in on the setup with Draven were off base. Amina hadn’t been a deceiver.

And she’d raised a lovely daughter.

In every photo, Amina’s bright, smiling face was present. When she stood by her daughter, the two were always touching—a hand hold, an arm over the shoulder, one leaning on the other. Their bond was special and seeing it through the pictures made me more determined to tell Amina’s story.