years ago. And he wrote you the poem thinking you would figure it all out when you grew up, or perhaps he hoped you and I could figure it out together.”
Rebekah shrugged. “I can’t imagine the grandfather I knew and loved would want to make me a criminal, even if he and Nate Elderby were. I think if he loved me as much as he now claims, he wouldn’t want me tainted by whatever he did, make me an accomplice to his crime.”
She searched Zoltan’s face, shrugged again. “Whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish, Zoltan, you should know I don’t want anything to do with it. Let the Big Take stay buried, if it’s real. Let it stay forgotten. It all stops right here in this room. The last thing I want is for my grandfather to go down in history as a thief—even if I really was hearing his voice rather than your own.” As she spoke, Rebekah rose. She felt a brief moment of dizziness.
Zoltan stood, too, lightly touched her hand to Rebekah’s arm. “I’m sorry you’re still unsure if your grandfather was actually here, and you still doubt me. He was here, Rebekah. I find it interesting, though, that he never told you exactly what the Big Take was. But maybe he didn’t have time, maybe he had to leave before he could tell you everything.”
But he’d told her there was a wolf in the fold, and what did that mean? It sounded ridiculous to Rebekah. She stared down at Zoltan’s hand. Zoltan pulled her hand away, took a step back, but her voice remained calm. “Fact is, I’ve come to believe there’s a time limit to how long the Departed can stay with us once they come through the Verge. Perhaps they need to wait their turn before they connect to us again.”
Rebekah looked toward the fire in the grate, only embers now. “To be truthful, Zoltan, I don’t know for certain whether to thank you for contacting my grandfather or compliment you on the quality of the research you must have done to convince me with your brilliant performance. More likely the latter, I think. Was my grandfather really involved in some kind of major theft with his friend? I don’t believe it. No, the Big Take was only one of the wonderful stories he told me. But as I said, it doesn’t matter.” She paused, leaned down to pick up her cup, and took a last sip of tea. “To pretend you’re actually speaking to a dead person—well, thank you for the unexpected evening and the tea.”
“Rebekah, I had an idea. Perhaps we could locate the Big Take and give it back to the original owner. What do you think?”
Rebekah said again, “As I said, Zoltan, this is over. I will not be coming back.”
“You are free to do as you wish, of course, Rebekah. But if you do come back, perhaps your grandfather will tell you more about the Big Take, explain his motives, and you can question him. You can tell him you don’t want it because you want to protect him. I know he can come back, his presence was strong tonight. He wants this desperately, Rebekah. Give him another chance to convince you.”
Rebekah started to shake her head, but she stayed silent until Zoltan walked her to the front door. “I hope you will reconsider. But whatever you decide, Rebekah, you have provided me with an intriguing evening, you and your grandfather both. Perhaps you will come again on Friday night?”
Rebekah shook her head. “I’ve made up my mind. I won’t be coming back.”
As Rebekah walked to her car, she realized she still felt unusually calm, smooth as the flow of a placid river, and wasn’t that odd? She carefully backed out of Zoltan’s driveway, her hands a bit unsteady on the steering wheel, and wondered if she’d ever actually believed she was speaking to her grandfather. He knew your nickname, Pumpkin. He knew about the Big Take story. Zoltan couldn’t have known about it, could she?
How could Zoltan have possibly found out Rebekah’s nickname and all the rest of it? She realized in that moment she wished she could believe her. She, Rebekah Clarkson Manvers, wanted to believe what had happened tonight was real. But of course it wasn’t. It was all smoke and mirrors. She had no intention of coming back on Friday, no matter what Zoltan wanted. Nothing good could come of it.