Free Letter from a Stranger by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page B

literally on two continents at once. What an intriguing place this was. Straightening up, she realized she was more positive than ever that her grandmother was here, somewhere in this city. She felt it in her bones.
    Now she couldn’t help wondering if the search at the land registry office would produce an address for Anita? Gran? Of course it was possible that Gabriele had her own home here. She had been independent by nature, decisive, and driven, had stood on her own two feet, battling the world, making everything work for herself and for her grandchildren.
    Justine smiled inwardly. She had inherited those traits from her granny, no doubt about that. In fact, her father had told her she was more like her grandmother than her mother. And it was true, thank God.
    Why would her grandmother choose to live here in Istanbul? Justine was able to answer that question instantly.
    Her grandmother’s lifelong friend Anita lived here, and there were several other good reasons as well. The weather was mild all year round, according to Iffet, and was certainly the perfect climate for an older woman; knowledge of Istanbul from years ago, when she was doing business; other old friends residing in the city; a lifestyle she enjoyed.
    Justine went back into the room, turned on several lamps, and sat down in a chair. She closed her eyes, focusing her mind on Gran, and intensely so.
    To all intents and purposes, Gabriele Hardwicke had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. Just as if she had died. Justine knew she hadn’t. She had Anita’s letter to prove it.
    Certainly there was nothing remaining about her life in London. Earlier today Eddie had told her so in no uncertain terms. Zilch was the way he had put it. And certainly she had been surprised, even startled, when he had wondered aloud if her importing business in London had ever existed.
    What if the same thing happened here? What if neither woman owned a home here? Then there would be no way to find them. She would be facing a brick wall.…
    A blue-and-white-tiled wall. Unexpectedly she was seeing this in her mind’s eye … a blue-and-white-tiled wall in her grandmother’s kitchen in New York. No, several walls. Tiles from Istanbul, Gran had told her. Like the blue-and-white vases, tubs, planters, and urns her father and Gran used to sell to interior designers in Manhattan. And brass objects. And carpets. Those beautiful silk-woven carpets from Istanbul. No, from Hereke, a small town located outside the city.
    As all this came rushing back to her, she thought: That’s it. She snapped open her eyes and sat bolt upright. Dealers in tiles, ceramic objects, antiques, and carpets … those were the people she had to find, if it became necessary. Perhaps they would remember her grandmother, perhaps even still knew her, and therefore knew where she lived.
    Justine went to the desk, began to make notes about the items which had been imported from Turkey by her father and grandmother. As she did this she felt an easing of the tension inside her, because she had thought of another way she might be able to trace Gabriele Hardwicke. She had to find her. She would not rest until she did. And she would start tomorrow.
    *   *   *
    At one moment, Justine roused herself from her unceasing thoughts of her grandmother and pushed herself up from the desk. She could not resist the pull of the terrace which opened off her room, and she went outside to sit under the night sky. She glanced up, marveling at that midnight blue arc above her. The stars were amazing … so many of them here in Istanbul, littering a sky which was clear, peaceful, and infinite.
    Across the Bosphorus the lights of Turkey and Anatolia on the Asiatic side were pinpoints of brilliant color glittering across the countryside, turning it into a fairyland. And downstairs people were already dining at the terrace café; she could hear the sound of muffled voices and laughter against the backdrop of a tinkling