Con Artist Legacy

Chapter Twenty: The Real Eric Matthews

“We’re visiting my grandma,” I added.

Bubba nodded, and opened the gate without a fuss. Matthews let out a sigh, still frustrated with the turn of events and pushed past me, eager to get inside.

A few seconds later he was sprawled across the dirt floor, and I couldn’t hold the laughter in anymore. I didn’t want to falsely accuse anyone, but he might have been tripped by a little short man (maybe). I gave the duo a thumbs-up as I walked through; hopefully it’d teach Matthews not push people around.

“You told him to do that,” Matthews said, as he dusted himself off.

“I did no such thing. Circus folk just aren’t normal.”

Despite his suspicions, he let me take the lead; I’d assumed correctly that he wouldn’t know which trailer was my grandmother’s. The problem was that I wasn’t too sure either, because if she’d received my text, she wouldn’t be in her trailer.

I wasn’t ready to accept that someone in my family was jewel thief, but if someone did know something…it was her, and I didn’t want Matthews anywhere near the real her.

It didn’t seem like I had anything to worry about though, most of the crazy stands had been put away and all the shady people seemed to have move their business indoors. Apparently, my grandma had relayed the message to her entire group.

In fact, the area was practically deserted as we walked around aimlessly (or purposefully, depending on who you asked). We’d actually travelled in a small circle, just so I could verify that the lights in my grandmother’s home were off.

But there was no blue trailer with twinkling lights and beads anywhere in my line of sight, and that wasn’t something that you’d easily miss. Instead, parked in her lot was a normal looking mobile home, with vinyl siding and everything.

And just when I was going to turn and cover the other side of the park, the door opened and my grandmother walked out.

Her hair was up in a lovely bun, a single necklace adorned her neck and she was wearing jeans. If that wasn’t enough, the smile on her lips told me everything, the con was on.

“Olivia, sweetie.”

“Hi, grandma,” I answered, as I walked towards her. The familiar smell of apple pie coming from the kitchen filled my nostrils, and made my mouth water. Memories of my childhood flashed through my mind, distracting me slightly.

“You brought a boy?”

“Ehh,” I answered, vaguely remembering that I didn’t come alone.

“He’s very handsome,” she said, obviously winking at me for Matthews benefit.

“Meh, I’ve seen better.”

“Olivia, don’t be rude to your boyfriend.”

“He is NOT my boyfriend.”

“She’s protesting a little too much, isn’t she?” My grandmother asked, directing her question towards Matthews this time around.

It seemed to take him by surprise, and he chuckled in response, probably not wanting to offend either one of us (smart boy). After regaining his composure though, he introduced himself and began to give my grandmother his spiel, but she cut him off immediately.

“I know why you’re here,” she said, as she turned back into the trailer. “Would you like some pie while we talk?”

“Ooh, I do,” I said.

I rushed inside and served myself, discretely taking inventory of the small home. It had a shabby-chic décor, with tacky ornaments and several arts and crafts projects stacked everywhere; definitely not my grandmother’s trailer.