No One to Trust (Kayla Walsh Mystery Suspense Trilogy Book 2) by Karen Randau

Author:Karen Randau [Randau, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

11

Kayla led Martin to a stone, two-story cottage with a steep-pitched roof.

The porch that stretched across the front brought back a memory of sitting on the steps eating fresh-baked cookies. She didn’t recognize the three chairs that filled the far corner, but the white picket fence seemed familiar. And she recalled picking wildflowers for the curly-haired woman who lived there.

“How can I remember this? The woman who lives here is named Ses. Why would Mom and Dad come here without me when we were visiting Paris?”

“Maybe they didn’t.”

When an elderly woman stepped around the corner carrying a green watering can, nothing about her looked or felt familiar.

“Bonjour.” The woman set her can on the porch railing, rubbed her hands on her jeans, and wiped her forehead with a sleeve of her plaid cotton shirt.

“Do you speak English?” Kayla asked.

“Yes.”

“My name is Kayla.” She gestured toward Martin. “This is my friend, Martin.”

The woman’s eyes flared. “Kayla?”

The woman’s reaction gave Kayla a sinking feeling. She should have used her Tiffany McDougal alias, but it was too late. She stepped forward and stood as straight as her shaky legs would allow. “Yes.”

“Joelle,” the woman said with a handshake and a wide grin.

“My family visited friends at this house when we were in Paris years ago,” Kayla lied. “I lived in Paris with my parents as a toddler, but we came here often.”

With a happy grin, Joelle gestured toward the table on the porch. “Please, sit. I’ll get us lemonade.”

She entered the house and returned minutes later with a tray that held an etched glass pitcher, three goblets, and an envelope.

“I remember vines growing around the door and windows,” Kayla said as she took in the porch, the kitchen window with a blue checkered curtain, and the home’s stone walls.

“My late husband removed the vines because they attracted spiders,” Joelle said.

The mention of spiders gave Kayla’s arms a creepy sensation. She squelched the desire to hurry through her questions so she could get off the porch. Sipping the sweet-tart drink helped a little to push aside her discomfort.

Joelle set down her glass and said, “We bought this house after selling our vineyard in northern France. I’m retired now. Would you like to see the inside?”

Kayla offered an anxious smile. “I would love that.”

She stepped into a living room with a wood floor. It led to a kitchen with an ancient stove.

“I remember that stove,” Kayla said. “When I was a toddler, a woman named Ses made chocolate chip cookies every time we visited. I can’t believe I remember that.”

Joelle grinned as she brushed a hand across the oven. “The previous owners were kind enough to leave the antique.”

Joelle ushered Kayla upstairs to three small bedrooms and a single bathroom. The master featured a queen-sized bed covered with a sage-colored bedspread. It sat on the opposite wall of a window that looked out over a sea of grass and fields of grapevines. A wardrobe filled the corner beside the window, and a suitcase and a hatbox topped it.

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