Chapter 5
Later that afternoon, I finished sweeping up the glass into the dustpan as Nana flitted around her shop, rearranging lotions and candles by the wellness teas.
She eyed the center where the pedestal had been. “I do hope they find my nugget heirlooms.”
“They will,” I said, stretching my back. “We need to figure out how your lotion got into Gloria’s pie.”
“We don’t really know that it was my lotion,” Nana said, her cheeks pink.
I stilled. “You said that it was—”
Her shoulders drooped, but she looked adorable, having changed into a green sweater and dark jeans. “I know. You can tell it’s my lotion because not only could I smell the peppermint, but also the eucalyptus, lavender, and of course the hint of nutmeg. It really does set it apart.”
“I’m sure that it does.” I always loved her different lotions. “But how did it get into the pie?”
“I have no idea.”
I needed to figure this out. “Do you know might’ve had a sample of the lotion?”
She threw both of her hands up. “Everybody has my lotions. I’ve been giving ‘em out for years. Anna, you know that.”
Yeah, I did know that. “So you’re saying anybody could have had some of your lotion. How did they get it into the pie?”
“I really don’t know.” Nana’s brows drew down. “Seriously, I’m the only one who had the key to the refrigerator. Nobody could get into it.”
“Where’s the key now?” I asked.
“I gave it to Birdie Yonderelli this morning. She’s working there. Did you know about that?”
“Yes,” I said. Birdie’s husband died two months ago, and the Elks had offered her a job, mainly to get her out of the house and interacting with people again. I didn’t think she needed the money. “Did she have any idea about the pies?”
“Of course not,” Nana said. “Nobody did. This doesn’t make any sense, Anna.”
The sound of pounding and the whir of a drill echoed through the peaceful day, blending with the light patter of rain against the windows.
Bampa had found an old door in their basement that had once belonged to one of the mansions on the hill.
It fit perfectly, topped with a bit of stained glass that caught the light.
I raised my voice so she could hear me. “Aiden is meeting with Sheriff Franco right now. He’s trying to get all the CCTV from town to figure out who planted the dynamite. Maybe we’ll catch whoever snuck into the Elks building as well.”
“That would be perfect.”
Aiden had been more than gentle when questioning my grandmother earlier, and I thought he’d been sweet.
Oh, he’d never be mean to my grandmother, as obviously he didn’t suspect her of planting dynamite, but he could still come off pretty intimidating when he wanted.
He didn’t want that today, which was good.
She moved to change the location of a couple of the oils from the bottom shelf to the top shelf on the far wall. “Aiden was quite kind earlier. When are you two getting engaged?”
I blinked. “We just got to the ‘I love you’ part of our relationship on Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve had a crush on him since you were a kid.”
I shifted my weight. “That’s not a secret.”
“It’s nice to see him crushing back,” she said, giving me a wink.
I chuckled. “You sound all modern and hip.”
“Well, yes, that is me. I am, after all, a shopkeeper in town. I have to keep up with the kids.”
I stretched my back.
The door opened and Bampa leaned his head around it. “This thing is perfect, Fiona. It’s just gorgeous. I’m so glad we had it in the basement.”
Nana turned and stared at him by the door. “You’ve done such a marvelous job.”
“Thank you. Anything for my girl. And don’t you worry, we’re going to find out who sabotaged Gloria’s subpar pie.” His eyes twinkled. “Your lotion probably made it taste better than it did before.”
“I think you’re right,” Nana said primly.
I barely kept from rolling my eyes.
He smiled. “Do you mind if I run down and have coffee with the fellas? I want to make sure Bernard doesn’t tell everybody about my secret fishin’ hole up Breyer’s Crick.”
I seriously doubted there was anybody in town who didn’t know where to fish around there, but I didn’t say so.
“Of course,” Nana said. “Say hi to everybody for me.”
He tugged on his green flannel. “You know I will, and I’ll ask around. We’ll figure out what’s going on, a stórín. I promise.”
“You’re the best, Connor.”
He winked. “No, baby. You’re the best.”
Oh my God. My grandpa just called my grandma baby. I fought the twin urges to smile and gag. Even worse, she blushed.
“Oh, Connor,” she murmured.
He winked again and shut the door.
“I’m telling you, those Irish men,” she said. “They’re charmers.”
“I’m well aware,” I said dryly.
She clapped her hands together. “You are. I’m so thrilled that you’re dating an Irishman. I can’t wait till you get married.”
“That’s probably a ways down the road,” I said lamely. “But Tessa is getting married this summer. You have to be excited about that.”
“Of course I am,” Nana said. “She is marrying an Italian, not an Irishman, but I have to admit Nick Basanelli is a good match for her.”
Since he would soon be my brother-in-law, I figured to help him out a bit. “I think there’s some Irish in his lineage,” I murmured.
Nana brightened. “I thought the same thing.”
Well, good. That was one less thing to worry about. I cleared my throat. I’d been dancing around how to ask her, how to question her about the odd meeting with Nonna, all morning.
A knock came at the door. I paused and looked at it. That was odd. We had tons of family outside cleaning up debris from the fire, and nobody would knock. “Come in.” I angled my body between Nana and the door, just in case.
“Hello there.” Henry Johnston walked inside.
“Henry?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled, tugged on his gray tie, and looked me up and down from my toes to my head and back. “You’re looking good, Anna Albertini.”
“Gee, thanks.” I also had a boyfriend who could bend Henry in two with minimal effort.
He looked odd in an ill-fitting brown suit with a tie. His blond hair had been slicked back from his face, and he was good-looking in the kind of way that showed he wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t take care of himself.
“Can I help you?” Nana said.
“Of course.” Henry was about thirty years old, a couple of years older than my sister Donna.
He’d kind of bugged her in high school, if I remembered right, even though she’d been a sophomore when he was a senior.
He pulled a folded envelope out of his breast pocket and walked around me to hand to my Nana.
She took it and looked down. “What in the world is this?”
“You’ve been served,” he said, putting emphasis on the last word. He grinned, showing a missing incisor. “Got a new job finally.” He looked me over again, then walked out of the shop, shutting the door behind him.
“Served?” Nana asked.
I turned and took the envelope from her, opening it and scanning it quickly. “Yeah. Gloria is suing you.” They must have drafted these up this morning. “This is insane.”
Nana leaned closer. “What does it say?”
“She’s suing you for intentional infliction of emotional distress,” I muttered.
“Huh?” Nana asked.
How could she? “She claims your act was outrageous and caused humiliation. She’s alleging you added lotion to her pie yesterday and embarrassed her in front of everybody.”
Nana snorted. “Outrageous? She’s the one who’s outrageous. Connor’s right. I bet my lotion made her pie taste better.”
“That is not a defense.” I slipped into lawyer mode. “Second, she’s suing you for fraud, saying you knowingly tampered with her pie to deceive the judges and secure a win.”
Nana’s mouth dropped open. “Fraud? I don’t need to cheat to win. I’ve won the last two years in a row.”
“That’s because you’re the better baker. By far.” I flipped over the page. “Then there’s intentional interference with economic expectancy.”
She frowned. “What in the world does that mean?”
“I haven’t seen it before.” I continued reading.
“But it means she thinks you intentionally ruined her chance to profit from the contest.” I slowly nodded.
“I can see it as a cause of action. Whoever wins the pie contest really does get marketing all year in different publications and doorways and at events.”
“That’s true.” Nana blinked. “So she’s suing me for ruining her chance for marketing? She would’ve never won.”
I folded the papers. “I agree, but it’s still a lawsuit and you’ve been served, which means we have to respond. We have to file an Answer.”
“She is out of her blessed mind,” Nana said. “I should hex her.”
I lifted a hand. “No hexing. No curses. When I go into the office later today, I promise I’ll type up an Answer.”
“Can I sue her back?” Nana pursed her lips.
I considered the notion. “Not really. I mean, you could say she’s defaming you, going around town telling people you sabotaged her pie, but honestly, it was your lotion, right?”
“Yes,” Nana said begrudgingly.
“All right, so we’ll figure this out. Don’t worry. I don’t think she has a case.”
Nana wiped dust off her hand. “If she does, how much could she win?”
I winced. “She’s claiming twenty thousand in estimated lost, and noneconomic damages estimated at ten to fifty grand, and of course there’s punitive damages.”
Nana paled. “What are punitive damages?”
“That’s to punish somebody for doing something wrong,” I said. “But don’t worry. This isn’t going to happen. We’re going to figure this out.”
“Who is her lawyer?”
I sighed. “Somebody I don’t know. His name is Zippy O’Bellini.” I’d never heard of the guy, which was odd. Maybe he was out of Spokane, licensed to practice in Idaho and Washington, but to have gotten to this so quickly? Didn’t make sense.
Nana stiffened. “Oh, really?”
I studied her. “Yeah. Have you heard of him?”
She pressed her lips together. “The name’s familiar. I’ll have to check back, but I think I’ve heard of that person.”
“Really? How so?”