Chapter Ten
Elizabeth Wolthorp ran her index finger across the oak mantel over the stone fireplace in the living room of Bryce’s new house. She looked at the dust on her finger and smirked. Her gaze drifted to her daughter who sat on the rattan loveseat flipping the pages of a June 1992 issue of Cosmo magazine. It had been gathering dust on a rectangle shaped rattan basket that served as a coffee table. The right side of her mouth curled in disgust.
“Not much of a place, Cinnamon.”
“Yes, Mother. Like, I know.” Cinnamon emitted a bored sigh, closed the magazine and let it drop into her lap. Her gaze shifted to her mother.
“But Bryce seems to like this town. He says he used to come here on summer vacations with his parents.” She rolled her eyes. “Like, can you believe it? Who
