Raelynn"s puzzled expression scanned me up and down. “Child, who"s this young man?”
I introduced myself, noting the southern charm underlying the woman"s confident and modulated voice. “Hope was worried, ma"am. I"m glad to see you"re okay.”
“My daughter thinks just because I"ve got a small touch of forgetfulness that I can"t find my way around the old neighborhood. I"ve been coming back and forth to Braxton for fifty years. This isn"t the first time I returned to my old stomping grounds. In fact, there"s a house down yonder,” she announced, effortlessly pointing toward my place, “on Dead End Lane. My memory ain"t gone yet.”
“I live on Dead End Lane in a house that once belonged to Hiram and Prudence Grey.” I carefully watched Raelynn"s expression and composure, keen to notice any reacti
