Once I tell Olivia about Gram’s passports and the journal, I instantly wish I hadn’t. I know how much she loves a mystery, and she’s been so distant lately. I thought if we solved this together, it might bring us back to the way things used to be.

“She’s a spy,” Olivia whispers, looking around dramatically.

“Just because she has a passport from Russia doesn’t make her a spy.” My voice squeaks like I’ve sucked helium out of a balloon.

“It’s like we learned in history. The United States was practically at war with Russia. She must have moved here to spy on America. Like that TV show The Americans.”

“I’m not allowed to watch that show.”

Olivia wrinkles her nose. “I’m not either, but do you think that stopped me? This couple sounds and looks totally American, but they’re really Russian spies. They have kids and everything.”

“Are the kids spies?”

She frowns, like she’s trying to remember. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure they don’t know a thing. Sound familiar?”

It did. My dad didn’t seem to know Gram was really from Russia. And she did have a lot of secrets. But it’s Gram.

“That’s silly. Gram’s too old, and she takes care of us all the time. When would she have time to do spy stuff? Besides, we aren’t at war with Russia anymore.”

“Not now.” Olivia rolls her eyes. “When she was young, duh. You said she used to travel a ton. Spies have to travel all the time. For missions and stuff.”

I pat Remy’s neck, taking comfort in his warm breath across my hand. He nuzzles me, searching for the apple I usually give him after riding. “Later, boy. You have to work for it, remember?”

“Besides,” Olivia continues, leading her horse closer, “they probably retired her or something. Or whatever they do to spies who are too old to do anything.”

“Who’s a spy?” Max pops his head out of the tack room.

I jump, and Remy snorts and shuffles sideways at my reaction. “Shh, boy. It’s okay,” I murmur.

“Her grandmother,” Olivia answers before I can stop her. I flinch. Next she’ll be telling Piper.

Max holds a hand out to Remy and pulls a face. “Sorry, big guy. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“He’s fine, and Gram is not a spy.” I work to keep calm for Remy’s sake and place a soothing hand on his muzzle.

Max grins and steps back, holding his hands up as if I’m arresting him. “I’m not the one who said it.”