Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“It is.”
“So,” I added, crossing my arms, “who do you think switched the tea in Nana’s shop?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Cormac said. “But I’d look at your sweet grandmother.”
I gasped. “You don’t know her.”
“No, I don’t. Which means I’m not clouded by a lens. She’s into the earth, into things that come from it, and mushrooms fit that. I could sell her tea to retail in a heartbeat, should I want.”
I blinked. “Are you serious?”
He nodded, the movement calm, measured.
“What about the lotion in the pie?”
“I don’t know her well enough, but that was hilarious.” His mouth twitched. “Imagine if Ms. Walton had been bothering your grandma for a while—giving little nudges, stirring things up. Maybe your grandma wanted to make a statement.” He lifted a hand before I could speak. “Don’t explode on me. I’m just saying, as an outsider looking in, maybe you’re a little blinded.”
My hands landed on my hips. “If you think I’m blinded, you should meet my sister.”
“I’ve met your sister,” he said, eyes lighting. “I’d like to know her a lot better.” The deadly serious tone caught me off guard.
I shook my head. “I don’t see it, Cormac. You’re nice to look at, sure, and you’ve got the whole mysterious vibe going on, but Donna is logical and organized and type A all the way. Opposites attract, but not that opposite, buddy.”
He smiled like a man who enjoyed a challenge.
“Still,” I said, “it’ll be fun watching you try.” I really did hope he found those silver boxes. Bringing him to Sunday dinner would be a circus, considering he was both Italian and Irish. The grandmothers might not let him leave. Ever.
A grin tugged at my mouth.
“That’s an intriguing smile,” Cormac said.
His accent intrigued me. Donna loved accents. “I’m sure it is. But if you don’t have anything else that helps me, I’d better go make sure my boyfriend isn’t trying to spring himself from the hospital.”
“I told you, he’s not leaving until five.” Cormac stepped aside as Birdie brushed past him in a thick wool coat and scarf knotted tight around her head.
“Well, hello, Anna,” she said cheerfully.
I forced a smile. “Hey, Birdie. How’s it going at the Elks?”
“Great.” She lowered her voice. “You ever figure out who switched the pies?”
I shook my head. “Nobody yet.”
“Your Nana had the only key to the fridge,” she said, frowning. “Anyway, I have to pay a parking ticket. Can you believe that? A parking ticket in this city. What’s the world coming to?” Muttering to herself, she stomped toward the courthouse stairs.
Cormac cocked his head. “Who was that?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean there’s someone you don’t know?”
“Apparently.” He didn’t sound thrilled.
“That’s Birdie Yonderelli. She’s worked at the Elks Lodge since her husband died. Nice lady. You should stop by for a drink sometime.”
“I definitely will.” His eyes tracked Birdie until she vanished through the doors. “I’d assume the bartender hears all the gossip.”
He wasn’t wrong. Maybe that’s how he gathered half his information—just by talking to people and letting them fill the silence. The man didn’t need wiretaps. He had charm and time.
“Cormac,” I said, drawing in a breath. “It has been… well, something.”
“Always a pleasure, Ms. Albertini.”
Without waiting for more, I turned and headed down the sidewalk toward my car. The wind carried the faint scent of rain and exhaust, cool against my cheeks.
If Aiden Devlin thought he’d be walking out of that hospital today, he had completely lost his mind.
Chapter 32
I wandered back through the hospital hallway and caught Saber sitting outside Aiden’s room, long legs sprawled, feet crossed at the ankles. He scrolled through his phone with one hand, a cup of hospital coffee in the other.
“Hey,” I said.
He looked up, dark eyes sharp, assessing. “Hey.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“Listening,” he said.
I paused, listening as well, and then caught a rapid-fire string of Italian slicing through the air. My stomach dropped. I knew that tone. Wincing, I hurried into the room.
Nonna Albertini stood over Aiden, spoon in hand like a general with a sword, giving him a full-volume lecture. To his credit, Aiden sat upright in bed, the thin white hospital gown emphasizing his broad frame. His expression sat somewhere between patient and peaceful.
“Nonna?” I said carefully.
She switched back to English mid-word. “Hello, Anna. How’s your day going?”
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I looked at her, then at him, then back again. “Good. Excellent.”
She gave a satisfied nod. “Have you gotten dear Fiona out of that mess yet?”
I gulped. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
Aiden’s gaze met mine, steady but slightly glazed. I narrowed my eyes. “Are you drugged?”
“I hope so,” he mumbled, his voice low and gravelly.
I crossed to him and took his hand. His skin felt warm and strong against my palm. “Nonna, why are you threatening him with a spoon?”