“About what?” I asked, panic tightening my throat. The voice was calm yet urgent, as if the information being withheld was both a burden and a necessity.
“About your grandmother. I can explain everything, but we need to do this in person.”
I had never been a particularly brave person, but there was a force pulling me to this stranger. My head spun as I thought of Grandma, of the life she had forged for us—her gentle smile, the stories she told, the sacrifices she made. What could possibly be wrong? I felt rooted in my anger, in the anxiety that clawed at my gut.
“Where do you want to meet?” I finally asked, my voice barely a whisper. I wasn’t sure I even wanted the answer, yet the pull felt unavoidable.
“The diner on Maple Street. Tomorrow at two. Just come alone.”
