Chapter 13
After an uneventful afternoon in which neither Pauley nor I discovered anything new or even remotely relevant, I drove out of Timber City and around Lilac Lake toward the Clumsy Penguin and parked close to the structure, jumping out and fighting the weather.
The Penguin had stood on the lakeshore for years, a familiar landmark and one of my favorite bars in the area. I ducked my head against the angry wind, yanked the door open, and stepped inside, shaking off the rain in the entryway.
The smell of burgers and fried food hit me, making my stomach growl.
The place was all warm wood from the floors to the tables and even the bar, set with wide windows that looked out over a stormy, lilac-gray lake.
Rain pummeled the water, throwing up sprays that caught the dim light from the interior and turned the surface a shifting gunmetal color. I shivered, but I loved it there.
I spotted my sisters at a table close to the bar and waved, winding through the crowd until I reached them. “Sorry I’m late. I was working on the Answer for Nana and lost track of time.” Shrugging out of my coat, I hung it over the back of my chair and sat.
Donna nudged a full glass of red wine toward me. “It’s a cabernet. Not bad.” She already had one in front of her, while Tessa’s glass held something pale and crisp that was probably a Riesling.
“Thanks.” I took a long drink. Rich and warm, the drink exploded on my tongue and heated down to my stomach. “Ooh, I like it. It’s good.”
“Wings and chips are coming,” Tessa said, her green eyes mellow.
I leaned an elbow on the table. “So? What’s up?”
Tessa sipped her wine. “I wanted to ask, because we have to get going on it—what color bridesmaid dresses do you guys want?”
Donna laughed, bright and infectious, and I noted several men at nearby tables turn their heads. Yeah. She had that kind of laugh.
“Tessa, it’s your wedding,” I said. “You’re supposed to choose.”
“I want you both to have what you want,” she said reasonably.
I liked that. “I can wear anything but pale yellow.”
Donna nodded her agreement. “No pale yellow.”
“Well,” Tessa said, reaching into her oversized bag and pulling out a few folded sheets of paper. “I was thinking maybe this green.” She spread the pages on the table, revealing a photo of a nicely cut tea-length dress in a muted sage.
I leaned in. “I like it. It’s pretty.”
Tessa looked at Donna. “What do you think?”
Donna studied the picture. “That’s beautiful. I’d wear it again, that’s for sure.”
Tessa flattened the paper. “Good. Your coloring is different from each other’s, but I think this would suit you both.”
Donna looked Italian. I did not.
I rolled my eyes. “I could wear that.”
“The color will bring out the green in your eyes,” Tessa chirped.
“My eyes are brown,” Donna said dryly, “but I could wear that color.”
Donna could wear anything and look good. She knew it.
A twittering from females near the entrance and the faint squeak of the door pulled my attention toward the entrance. To my surprise, Tessa’s fiancé strode in, scanning the crowd. One woman nearly choked on her drink as he walked by. Yeah, he was that hot.
“I didn’t know Nick was joining us,” I said.
“Neither did I,” Tessa murmured.
Nick spotted us, gave a half-shrug, and made a beeline for the table.
He leaned down and kissed Tessa on the mouth, firmly enough to make a statement.
When Nick Basanelli made an entrance, he did it with style.
He stood tall, lean, all confidence and charisma.
“I didn’t know you were here.” He brushed a hand down her arm.
“Really? Then what are you doing in a bar?” Tessa asked, her lips twitching.
He glanced around. “Meeting my brother. I’ve got to give him the keys to the UTV he’s supposed to fix.”
I cocked my head. “Why’s he here and not in Silverville?”
“He’s doing some work out of a garage on this side of the pass,” Nick said easily. “Didn’t mean to interrupt girls’ night.”
“You’re fine,” Tessa said, smiling.
Nick glanced at the paper still on the table. “That’s a pretty dress.”
“Thanks,” Tessa said. “Would you like to weigh in?”
“Not on bridesmaid dresses.” Nick’s laugh was low and warm. He straightened and smoothed a hand through his thick, dark hair. The guy was Italian, through and through. More importantly, he adored my sister.
Tessa smiled up at Nick. “What about the flowers?” she asked, turning back to the folded wedding notes on the table.
He frowned thoughtfully. “I liked the white ones.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“And, um, the purple ones?” He watched her carefully.
I wanted to help him out, but honestly, watching Basanelli dangle was too much fun. The guy was one of the best prosecutors in probably the entire state, maybe the whole damn country, and seeing Tessa tie him in knots would forever be one of my favorite hobbies.
He glanced my way, his expression cautious. “I don’t suppose Devlin’s around?”
“No.” I shook my head. “He’s working on a case. I texted that we were coming here, but I haven’t heard back.”
Nick straightened his tie. “Busy time of year.” He wore a full suit, a gray one with a red power tie.
“I take it you had court today?” I asked.
“Yeah. Felony hit-and-run. Should go to the jury in a couple days.”
I took another drink of wine. “That sounds stressful.”
He didn’t seem fazed. I liked that about him.
Basanelli remained steady under pressure.
His gaze darkened slightly, though, and that change was enough to warn me something heavier was coming.
“The rumor around the courthouse earlier this morning is that Backleboff was in town trying to find a magistrate over here in Timber City willing to issue an arrest warrant for your grandma because he couldn’t find one in Silverville.
I don’t know if he made it happen or not. ”
The words landed like a punch. Backleboff could get a magistrate from any of the five northern counties in Idaho to issue the warrant. “You’re serious?”
Nick looked somber. “Figured I should give you a heads-up.”
I shook my head. “Gloria is acting like a shrew. What’s her problem? She has to be so jealous of Nana.”
“Can you stop the arrest warrant, Nick?” Tessa asked, her chin lifting with that same fire she used when fighting for the last cinnamon roll at family brunch.
Nick sighed. “No. I don’t have jurisdiction over another county’s prosecutor, not even a little. But…” His eyes met mine. “I’ll gladly give her a character reference during trial if it comes to that. As Elk County’s prosecuting attorney, I can at least help you on the stand.”
“That’d be great,” I said, meaning it. It was too early to be strategizing about trial testimony, but knowing he was in Nana’s corner helped more than I wanted to admit.
Tessa reached out, squeezing his hand. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” His mouth curved in a soft smile. “I love Nana O’Shea. She wouldn’t poison anyone, and she sure doesn’t need to sabotage somebody else’s pie to win.” He shook his head, looking genuinely disgusted.
I grinned into my glass. “All right, Basanelli, now you’re just laying it on thick.”
Before he could respond, the door opened again, and a gust of cold air swept in. Nick turned, spotting his brother immediately. “There’s Rick.”
He leaned down and kissed Tessa again. Longer this time, on the mouth, full of heated affection. Donna and I exchanged looks, both of us pretending to study our wineglasses.
“My place tonight?” he murmured to Tessa.
Her cheeks flushed a soft rose. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there later.”
“All right.” He straightened, giving her one more look that said he’d rather skip the rest of his evening and stay. “If you guys have too much to drink, text me. I’ll come get you. I’ll be at the office till then.”
“Sounds good,” Tessa said, her gaze seriously warm on him. My big sister was in love. Big time.
Nick gave a polite nod to Donna and me before striding toward his brother.
I cleared my throat once he was gone. “Glad to see things are still hot and heavy.”
Tessa shot me a look. “Oh, shut up. Look who’s talking.”
“All right, that’s fair.” I smirked. Aiden was permanently hot and heavy.
Donna snorted into her wine. “True.”
The waitress brought over two baskets of chicken wings and one overflowing tray of nachos along with plates and napkins. She bobbed away.
I reached for a wing. “You said chips. Not nachos.”
Tessa unfolded her napkin. “I meant nachos. Seriously. Wedding brain here.”
Fair enough. I leaned back, still smiling. “Tess? Did you tell Donna about our grandmothers?”
“Yes,” Donna said, lowering her voice and leaning in. “I cannot believe they met for a secret breakfast.”
“They didn’t even drink their coffee.” Tessa nodded, eyes wide. “It was the weirdest thing. I’d give anything to see those two notes.”
“Me too,” I said. “Neither one will say a word about it.”
Donna tilted her head, putting two wings on her plate. “You don’t think the notes were to each other, do you?”
“That would be odd.” Tessa wrinkled her nose. “Remember that they read each other’s notes and then gave them back.”
“Yeah, and the notes were on the same stationery,” I said, thinking back. “They wouldn’t use the same kind if they were writing to each other.”
“No, they would not,” Tessa agreed, plucking nachos with beef onto her plate. She took a deep drink of wine, thinking it over. “I’ve actually thought about breaking into Nana’s house.”
My head snapped up. “Excuse me?”
“I mean visiting,” she amended, eyes sparkling. “Just visiting. Maybe finding that purse. Or the note.”
“I thought the same thing,” I admitted.
Donna shook her head. “You know they would’ve hidden them.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I said. “Those notes didn’t stay in those purses for long. They’re both too smart.”
“What do you think is going on?” Donna asked, scanning the bar.
I followed her gaze automatically, checking for eavesdroppers. We could never be too careful, especially when someone like Jolene O’Sullivan might be nearby with her endless gossip column fodder. “I don’t know,” I murmured. “But whatever it is, they’re keeping it close.”
Tess’s brow furrowed in thought. “You don’t think it has anything to do with the sabotaged pie, do you?”
“I doubt it,” I said. “That wouldn’t make sense.”
Donna exhaled. “Yeah, but with our family? Who the heck knows?”
The three of us fell quiet for a moment, the noise of the bar filling in the silence. The hum of conversation, the crack of pool balls, the low murmur of sports commentary from the TV behind the bar all blended into one familiar sound. I chewed thoughtfully on a delicious barbeque flavored wing.
Tessa finally broke the quiet. “If those two are plotting something, I want to know.”
“Same,” I said.
Donna grinned. “Good. Because if Nana ends up in jail for food tampering, I’m bailing her out. You’re doing the legal work.”
“Deal.”
We all clinked glasses and drank, the sound of rain still pounding against the windows.
Whatever the grandmothers were hiding, I’d find out. One way or another.
The conversation drifted then, easy and familiar. I relaxed into the rhythm of it with my sisters, the warmth of the bar, and the scent of fried food and wood polish. The rain outside hit the windows in steady sheets, but inside, the atmosphere was cozy and golden.
A shadow crossed the table.
“Well, if it isn’t the Albertini trio,” a deep, lilting voice said.
I looked up and blinked. “Cormac Coretti.” Was he following me?