One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(49)

“Someone has a crush,” she sing-songed.

“Stop it.”

I was so not spying, and I so didn’t have a crush.

I’d just met them, and the worst thing I could do was get mixed up with the angry guy across the street with his sweet, adorable little girl, who was a big fan of my grandmother. Apparently, she had really good taste.

But her dad? He obviously had some ginormous chip on his shoulder, and I had enough to worry about without giving thought to the flecks of sadness scored in the depths of his eyes.

Eyes the color of sage. Rimmed in the darkest gray.

No, I wasn’t thinking about those soft, full lips barely hidden by the sexy scruff on his strong jaw. And I definitely hadn’t noticed his big hands or the strength in his deeply tanned, muscled arms.

Nope.

Not at all.

A guy like that had heartache written all over him.

And I’d had enough of that to last me a lifetime.



The sound of a whisk clanging against metal echoed through the kitchen. With the bowl tucked under one arm, I cut butter into the flour in the other, giving myself over to the sense of deep peace that had taken me over.

The late night was like a warm blanket wrapped around the old house, holding me safe and secure, the vast silence a comfort as I slowly swayed in the kitchen.

I had the crumpled letter smoothed out on the counter beside me where I worked. Every so often, I would peek over at it, relishing in her presence. I had to have read it close to a million times since it’d slipped out with the file the attorney had given me two months ago. But I kept going back to it, wondering, why now?

Why hadn’t she asked this of me before?



When you left, you told me I was the only one you could trust. Your broken heart had mine breaking that night. Isn’t it funny how things come around? Because no matter how many years have passed, in the end, you are the only one I trust with this.



I know right now you’re scared and questioning my intentions. But I’m asking you to trust me one last time. I made a life within those walls, gave it my whole heart. Maybe you never realized it, but all along, I was working so one day, I could give it to you. Now, it’s yours. Give it life, Corinne Paisley. I’ll be with you every step of the way.





My chest tightened as a wave of grief and love slammed into me.

I could feel the weight of her spirit dance around me. Soft, soft encouragement. The same as she’d always given me.

Belief. It was right there. Shining with all the questions that still remained.

“I am scared, Gramma. I’m not sure how I can do this without you. But I promise you that I’m going to try. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make you proud.”

I jumped when the oven dinged, letting me know the temperature had reached three hundred and seventy-five degrees.

Maybe I really was letting this old house get to me.

I set the bowl aside and dug into the paper sack to find the almond extract.

Almond extract I was certain I’d purchased this afternoon at the store.

Almond extract that wasn’t there.

With a frown, I sank back onto my heels. Frustration leaked into my veins.

Damn it.

My first pie, and I was already failing. It was one of those ingredients I could probably get away with not using, but it just wouldn’t be the same. Looking around, my attention landed on the pantry.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Gramma,” I mumbled, opening the pantry door and rummaging through the few items that hadn’t already been discarded.

“Aha.” It was a cry of victory as I held the bottle of almond extract in the air.

Victory that was short-lived. It’d expired three years ago.

“Damn it,” I muttered again. I tossed it into the garbage bin right before my eye caught on a white envelope tucked on a shelf at the side of the pantry wall. Like a forgotten partner to all the expired spices and extracts. A token of the past.

Apprehension swelled, anxious and uneasy, and I slowly moved forward.

It felt as if it were some kind of secret.

As if I were on some kind of forbidden mission.

Silly, I knew, but my fingers trembled when I reached in and tugged it free, the paper tacked to something sticky on the pantry wall.

That anxiousness thickened like molasses, my throat full and bobbing, my stomach twisted in a vice.

My name was written across the front, the familiar handwriting scratchy from an unsteady hand.

“Oh God.” Grief came swooping back in, but I smiled through the tears that were suddenly clouding my eyes as I ripped into the letter.

There was so much comfort in knowing she felt confident that one day I would find what she’d left for me.

I tugged it out and quickly scanned the card.



All moments matter. We just rarely know how important they are until the chance to act on them has already passed.





My spirit flooded with love, and I clung tight to the reminder of this amazing woman who’d always viewed the world as if it were right on the cusp of something magical. The tough times nothing but a stepping-stone to propel us to where we were supposed to be.

I took a fumbling step back when I sensed the change outside my kitchen window. A light had flickered on across the street. Drawn, I inched across the creaking floor, again keeping myself hidden as I crept toward the window. I pulled back the edge of the lacy drape and peered that direction, not sure if I felt guilty for doing it or if it was somehow my duty.