"Linda..." Lilian asked carefully, lowering her voice a little, "did you ever hear stories about my grandmother? Like... something unusual about her?"
Linda's expression became thoughtful as she leaned one hand against the table.
"Well," she said slowly, "now that you mention it, my mother always said your grandmother was different. Not in a bad way. More like... special."
She gave a small shrug. "She had this strange way of knowing things before they happened. Little stuff mostly. And she stayed beautiful well into her seventies. My mom used to joke she was jealous of that."
"Different how, exactly?" Dante asked. His tone was casual, but Lilian knew that tone. He was listening to every word.
"It's hard to explain," Linda said, shaking her head. "Just... an odd feeling people got around her. Like she was more than she seemed. My mother called it old soul energy."
She let out a small laugh. "Maybe just small-town superstition, you know how people talk."
