“What’s going on? Everyone looks so serious.” Chloe set the groceries on the counter, careful not to crush the bread, then turned to face her family. Gram looked like she was trying not to laugh, while Granda tapped his fingers against his hip. The man fidgeted. A lot. Her mom had “the look,” so Chloe busied herself putting away groceries to buy a little time and try and figure out what was going on.

While Gram was perfectly capable of doing her own grocery shopping, Chloe liked to run errands for her. Her mom was busy with her business, so Chloe had taken over doing the shopping for them both.

Gram was turning eighty this year and still drove her big car and the little MG. The donations to the local police department had grown larger over the years, though nothing could top the year Granda donated a helicopter on Gram’s seventy-fifth birthday.

“We want to talk about your trip.” Her mom looked at Arthur, Chloe’s stepdad for the past eight years. A look passed between them, and Chloe knew what was coming as she put the empty plastic bags in the walk-in pantry.

“I’m all ready to go. Checked all my lists twice.” The huge windows in the great room beckoned, and she found herself looking out at the ocean, rather than at her mom, who meant well but took worrying to the expert level.

Trying to prepare for the coming argument, Chloe took deep breaths and waited. Her temper, her mom said, had come from her dad. Not that she knew much about him, just the basics. What he looked like, his name, and, oh yeah, that he hadn’t wanted either one of them. He’d left her mom at the local Dollar Store, pregnant and homeless. The jerk.

Granda Drake had been father and grandfather to Chloe for her entire life. Just because someone shared DNA with you, didn’t make them a parent.

Restless, Chloe turned and went to the kitchen. “Who wants a glass of tea?” The tea was always sweet here in the South—no need to ask for sweet or unsweet.

“I do, dearie,” Gram said.

“Me too, with a bit of mint,” Granda chimed in.

“No thanks, honey.” Her mom and Arthur had bottles of water in front of them and exchanged another look.

Nervous at the coming upheaval, Chloe added lemon wedges and brought the tray over, sitting next to Granda. He winked and took a glass of tea, passing it to Gram before taking his own glass.

“Okay, Karen,” Chloe said. “What’s to discuss? Everything is paid for, I’ve exchanged a bit of money, I’m all packed, and I leave tomorrow.”

Karen—Chloe liked to call her mom by her name when she was mad at her—pressed her lips together. “You know how I feel about that, young lady.”

Wisely, Chloe didn’t respond. Instead, she rolled her eyes and waited, her bare foot tapping up and down.

Arthur patted Karen’s hand. “It’s just with the state of the world right now, we thought it might be better if you spent your summer here.” He smoothed his tie down. “Not here in Holden Beach but somewhere in the U.S. Maybe California or Maine?”

“We don’t want you traipsing around Europe all by yourself,” Karen said.

“I’ll meet plenty of people traveling alone at the hostels. Kids from Australia take their gap year and travel alone all the time. No one tells them the world isn’t safe. The world will never be safe. I’m not a child. I’ll be careful.”

Unwilling to lose this battle, Chloe pulled out the big guns.

“Gram?” Chloe turned pleading eyes to the woman who scared half the town with her prickly demeanor, but Chloe knew that inside she was a big, soft marshmallow.

“The trip is paid for, Karen,” Gram said. “And Drake added international calling to the plan on her phone so she can keep in touch.”

When her mom jumped up and started pacing, Chloe tuned out and waited for the heated discussion to end. Granda nudged her and leaned in close, whispering, “Your gram and I are on your side. After all, aren’t grandparents supposed to spoil their grandkids?”

Chloe wanted to hug him, but didn’t dare in case her mom noticed. The back-and-forth died down and her mom let out a long sigh.

“I don’t like it, but fine.” Karen looked at Arthur and then to Chloe. “You’ll call us twice a day.”

It took considerable effort for Chloe not to roll her eyes. Fine—she knew how to negotiate, thanks to Granda. After all, he used to run one of the biggest casinos in Las Vegas.

“Once a week.”

“That is not acceptable.” Karen fumed.

“Once every two weeks, then,” Chloe countered.

“How about when you land and then every day?” her stepdad said. Arthur was an accountant. Chloe and Gram thought Karen picked him because he was stable and kind, if a bit boring. Gram said Karen had been hurt so deeply that she wanted someone with his feet firmly planted on the ground.

A small snort escaped Chloe. Her stepdad was nice, she’d give him that, but he couldn’t tell a good fairy tale to save his life. She hugged her granda. Now, he had the best stories, probably because most of them were true.

“This is my last summer to be a kid and have fun before I buckle down at college this fall,” Chloe said. “And then it’s working every day for the next forty years. I don’t want to have to call my mama every day.” She smiled to ease the sting of the words.

“Hear me out.” Chloe stood and moved across the room to perch on the arm of the loveseat where her parents presented a united front. “I’ll call when I land and then I’ll call when I leave and arrive in each country. If I decide to stay in one country, I’ll call when I visit each city.”

“Sounds reasonable, don’t you agree, Karen?” Granda said, his deep voice filling the room.

“You know I love you, Drake,” Karen said. “But you and Mildred have filled Chloe’s head with fairy tales ever since she was born. I worry she won’t pay attention to her surroundings and will end up getting kidnapped or mugged.”

Gram leaned forward. “Come now, dearie. You’ve been watching too much news and all those awful crime shows. Chloe is a responsible young woman. Soon enough she’ll be on her own. It’ll be good for her to spread her wings a bit. And if I remember, you were eighteen when you came to live with me.”

Oh boy, Karen was mad as hops. Chloe could always tell because her mom jiggled her shoe back and forth. Slap. Slap. Slap.

A look passed between her parents, and her mom finally sighed, looking older than her thirty-eight years.

“Okay. You free spirits win. Call when you land. And each time you head to a new place.” She narrowed her eyes. “If we don’t hear from you, I will hire someone to track you down and drag you back, embarrassing you and scarring you for life. Deal?”

“Deal.” Chloe hugged her. “Thanks, Mom and Dad.” Then she sat between her grandparents and hugged them both close, whispering, “I knew you could get her to see reason.”

Granda leaned in. “Come upstairs later. I’ve got a present for you before you leave.”

Chloe jumped up. “This is going to be the trip of a lifetime.”

“I’ll be tracking your phone,” her mom muttered.

“What did you say?” Chloe couldn’t quite make out the words.

“We’ll be counting down the days until you come back, honey.” Her mom smiled, and Chloe frowned but let it go.

Tomorrow she was leaving to spend the entire summer in Europe. And while she’d told her parents she was traveling all around, the truth was that she was spending all her time in England. She’d tell her mom when she landed that she’d decided to stay and really get to know Granda’s country. It was also where Gram’s nieces had vanished.

Maybe the reason she’d failed all these years was that she hadn’t been in England when she’d tried her experiments. Excitement coursed through her, only to be replaced with crushing defeat. No, Chloe had put childish fairy tales away after the last fiasco when she was ten. Time travel might be real for the special few, but she wasn’t a “real” Merriweather, and deep down she knew: time travel just wasn’t in the cards.

Richard stood on the battlements watching the men. ’Twas good to have men about, shouting slurs at each other as they worked to repair his walls and his home.

A fortnight had passed, and while a few still crossed themselves, the rest of the men accepted him. no longer flinching when they saw him with his hood down.

“Are you going back to France?” he said to Garrick, who looked as weary as Richard.

“Aye. I left word for any missives to be delivered to Bainford. Mayhap the messenger is too afeared of the monster to darken your hall.”

Richard ignored the jest. Garrick was a score and five. A huge man, with scarred hands the size of silver dinner plates. Richard had saved his life when they were but lads, and since then, Garrick had gone wherever Richard went.

“Why are you not yet married? Surely you can find a lass willing to bed ye?” Richard knew the lasses flocked to his friend.

“Between fighting and watching over your reckless self, who has time to seek a wife?” Garrick retorted. “We are both bastards, Richard. And whilst you have title and lands, I do not. What woman of worth would have me?”

“If ’tis because your home is here at Bainford, I would see you settled elsewhere where rumor does not reach.” Richard brushed the lightly falling snow from his cloak, grateful for its warmth.

Garrick turned to him. “Nay. Who would look after your sorry self?” He grinned. “And while the lads are doing fine work repairing the stone, my home is in England. Here at Bainford. Not in Ireland. Do not worry over me.” He shuddered.

Richard nodded. “Enough womanly talk. To the lists?”

“Aye, I thought ye’d never ask.”