"We can go when ever you're ready," she said, clearing the things from the table where we sat.
"I'm good to go," I said, noticing my plate was barely touched.
She grabbed her coat and bag and I followed her back down the hall.
It was freezing outside, and the wind had picked up, shaking the limbs of the trees on the street. We made our way back down the hill and through the town to the wharf.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"There'll be a ferry along in a while. We're going there," she said, pointing to lights that blinked out in the middle of the black sea.
"Were is there?" I asked. Her secrecy was beginning to bug me.
"It's where your grandfather lives when he's here. It's where you'll find out your truth," she said.