Chapter 19
After hanging out at Nana’s for a while, I drove back into town, parking at the curb in front of Silver Sadie’s. The rain had started falling again, steady, cold, and loud enough to ping against the hood of my Fiat.
The entire street glowed under green and gold decorations strung between lampposts, the windows full of clovers, shamrocks, and badly drawn leprechauns.
I stepped out of the car and the rain hit like a thousand tiny needles. My heels clicked on the slick sidewalk as I pushed open the door to the diner, and the familiar warmth and smell of butter, coffee, and grilled onions wrapped around me.
Inside, the place was calm, that slow lull between the lunch and dinner rushes. The hum of a ceiling fan blended with soft Irish music from the jukebox. Only a few tables were occupied by locals lingering over late sandwiches.
I stopped short when I spotted Tessa behind the bar, wiping down the counter. “Hey, I didn’t know you were here today.”
She looked up and smiled, her eyes a light emerald today. “Yeah, I came over to help. We’ve been slammed all week with the St. Patrick’s stuff. Mert’s got Smiley’s Diner covered.”
“You’re working too hard.” I shrugged off my coat and hung it over a stool. “You look like you could use a nap.”
“Don’t remind me.” Tessa poured herself a soda and took a sip.
A familiar voice came from behind me. “Hey, Anna. How’s it going?”
I turned as Violet Albertini bounded up, all bright energy and dark hair curling at her shoulders. She threw her arms around me in a quick hug that smelled faintly of vanilla lotion.
“Hi, Violet,” I said, hugging her back.
Violet had been recently adopted by my Aunt Yara and Uncle Buddy, and she worked for Tessa at the diner after school. She was pretty with dark hair, pink lips, and blue eyes so deep they appeared violet. Her name truly fit her.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She sighed. “Way too much.”
My eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong?” I guided her toward a corner table. The chair squeaked as I sat, and she dropped into the one across from me, wringing her hands. “There’s a St. Patrick’s Day dance Saturday night.”
“Oh no,” I said. “Did you not get a date?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, I have a date. It’s Hunter McWilloughby.”
I blinked. “McWilloughby? I’m trying to remember. There are a lot of McWilloughby kids.”
“He’s the pitcher on the baseball team,” she said quickly. “He’s smart, too.”
“Cool,” I said slowly. “So, what’s the problem?”
Her eyes widened dramatically. “The problem is that Buddy wants to meet him, which is tough enough. But last I heard, Bosco, Knox, and Vince are all coming over for dinner when Hunter picks me up.”
I winced. “Oof.”
Violet looked horrified. “Oof? That’s all you’ve got?”
“Honey,” I said, trying not to smile, “you’ve got six older brothers. Very protective ones. I wouldn’t be surprised if Quint, Rory, and Finn show up as well.”
She went pale. “All six of them?”
“Yep. Just keep your chin up and see what Hunter’s made of. If he can handle your brothers and Buddy, you’ll know he’s worth it.”
“That’s a lot to ask a guy to go through,” she whispered.
I tried not to laugh. “Totally agree. Sorry.”
Violet sighed and stood. “Yara will help me, thank goodness.”
“She will,” I agreed. “I wish you the best of luck.”
She gave me a mock glare. “Gee, thanks. You’re absolutely no help.”
The girl had a point. “I know.”
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
My stomach rumbled right on cue. “Starving. What’s good today?”
“Everything’s good,” she said, her tone brightening. “But we’ve got a Cobb salad as the special.”
“I’ll take one,” I said. “And sparkling water.”
She tightened her apron. “Coming right up, and again, you’ve been zero help.”
“Noted,” I called after her, smiling as she disappeared into the kitchen.
The sound of sizzling from the back mixed with the steady patter of rain against the windows. For a moment, everything felt perfectly ordinary in just a quiet afternoon in Silverville before the next inevitable disaster.
Tessa moved over to help another table, giving me a quick wave. Even her hand looked tired.
The door opened again, and a rush of cool, damp air swept through. I glanced over my shoulder and paused. A striking older man stepped inside, scanning the room with a confidence that didn’t need announcing. He spotted me instantly.
He crossed the floor with easy precision, the click of his polished shoes echoing against the wood. “You must be Anna Albertini.” His voice was smooth and deep, touched by just enough gravel to sound interesting.
I stood and shook his offered hand. “Hi. Please, sit. You must be Zippy O’Bellini.”
“Yes,” he said, lowering himself gracefully into the chair across from me.
He had to be over six feet tall and looked to be in great shape, especially for someone probably in his sixties.
His suit was a three-piece slate-gray number with a matching vest and a blue tie with a perfect cut.
Thick, silver white hair, cascaded back from his angled face. Those dark brown eyes didn’t miss much.
“Tell me about yourself.” I watched him over the rim of my water glass.
“Not much to tell,” he replied easily. “I grew up in Montana. My family spent a lot of time in Silverville during the winters to snowmobile and snow ski, and we had summers up at Lilac Lake where we water-skied and got into trouble.” His smile was small but practiced.
“Now I’m ready to retire. Silverville has always been the dream. ”
Smooth. Too smooth.
Violet appeared beside us with her notepad, a little out of breath. “Hi. Can I get you anything?”
“I ordered a Cobb salad,” I said.
Zippy nodded. “I’ll have the same, and a diet soda, please.”
“Of course,” Violet said brightly. “Right away.”
As she left, Zippy’s gaze followed her briefly. “She’s a pretty girl.”
“She is,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. He had made the statement matter-of-fact and not creepy. Kind of like a grandfather noticing the younger generation. “And she’s family.”
He unfolded his napkin. “Good family. You can tell.”
“So, are you going to drop this ridiculous lawsuit against my Nana?”
He smiled faintly. “It’s not ridiculous. I have a strong case.”
“Yeah, but do you really want to start your Silverville retirement by suing a local grandmother? That’s not exactly a social icebreaker.”
He leaned back, considering. “We don’t always choose our clients, Ms. Albertini. They choose us.”
“Convenient,” I said. “And yes, I’m Fiona’s granddaughter, which means I’ll absolutely go to the mat for her.”
He chuckled softly, and the sound carried a strange warmth. I could see why juries might like him. “I understand, but it looks like she sabotaged Gloria’s pie, which caused emotional distress and probably some business losses.”
“I think you’ve lost your mind,” I said flatly.
Violet returned with our drinks, placing them on the table.
Zippy gave her a polite nod before turning back to me. “I like you. You’re spunky. You remind me of your grandmother. Fiona is spirited. Always has been.”
I blinked. “You’ve met her?”
“Years ago,” he said, his tone changing slightly.
Before I could press further, the door behind me opened, and a sudden shift in the air made the hairs on my arms rise. I turned, already somehow knowing who was walking inside.
Nana O’Shea and Nonna Albertini swept into the restaurant like they owned the place.
Nana still wore her best dress, her hair perfectly coiffed.
Nonna looked just as fierce in a fitted navy jacket, her silver hair immaculate, and her glasses a glamorous nod to Sophia Loren.
Together, they were a storm front in heels.
“Oh my,” Zippy murmured, standing automatically.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “That about sums it up.”
They reached the table in perfect unison, flanking me like a two-person honor guard.
“I told you I did not want you to meet with him,” Nana said, her Irish lilt higher than usual.
“I’m sorry, Nana,” I said carefully. “But it’s standard in a case like this. I’m trying to find a way to end this ridiculous fight peacefully.”
“Can we, Zippy?” Nonna asked sharply, fixing him with the kind of look that could cut through steel.
Zippy blinked, clearly caught off guard. “It is good to see both of you again,” he said, looking between them.
I froze. “Wait, what?”
From behind the bar, Tessa had stopped wiping glasses and was staring like she’d just found herself front row to a soap opera. I shrugged helplessly.
“Anna,” Nonna said, her Italian accent slipping in strong now, “we would very much like for you to leave.”
“I think I’ll stay right here,” I said, not moving.
Zippy smiled politely, though his eyes remained sharp. “Well, ladies, I’d be honored to have your company. Would you like to sit down?”
Nonna leaned forward suddenly, close enough that I caught the faint scent of her gardenia perfume. “Listen, you two-farted face head, you get out of this town and the hell away from my granddaughter before I take your head off.”
My jaw literally dropped open. I sat back in my chair a little, the vinyl giving a faint squeal. What was a two-farted face head? Did she mean two-faced?
“Yeah,” Nana said, leaning in.
Nonna drew a wooden spoon out of her monstrous purse as if it were a talisman. The spoon thunked against her palm.
“Nonna, we do not need a battery case right now.” I grabbed for her hand.
“No fighting.” My teeth ground together as I wrestled the spoon away.
I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but it took a lot more effort than I expected.
Her fingers were surprisingly strong. She smiled at me afterward, calm and reckless all at once.
“There’s no need for violence,” Nana said, and then she leaned in close to Zippy. “Mr. O’Bellini, if you don’t leave my granddaughter alone, and if you don’t drop this case, I’ll bring the Irish hammer down on your fuck-all head in a way you have never seen.”
A sound escaped from me that was part gasp and part laugh.
I nearly passed out. I had no idea Nana knew that particular word.
Tess’s sharp inhale came from across the room; it sounded like a small animal in distress.
Violet took a slow step closer to the table, one hand pressed to her mouth.
She looked like she wanted to run for help but felt too rooted to move.
Zippy’s smile tightened. “Now, hold on—”
“Not another word,” Nonna snapped. Her eyes were blade sharp. I kept hold of the spoon so she couldn’t grab it again. Her smile reappeared, but it had no kindness in it. The grin was polished by fury. “I suggest you rethink your life choices, Zippy.”
For the first time since he’d walked in, Zippy visibly lost his ease. His laugh faltered. “You don’t mean that, Elda.”
“Oh, I mean it,” she answered, slow and deadly calm.
How did this man know both of my grandmothers? I wasn’t sure what exactly Nonna had in mind, but the look on her face told me she meant it down to the bone.
Zippy smoothed the front of his suit. “It was very nice to see you both again,” he said, voice clipped.
“I apparently need to reconsider a few things. I will speak with my client.” He inclined his head to me and then turned and left the restaurant.
The door closed behind him with a wet little thud from the rain outside.
For a beat, the whole place held its breath. The people at the tables around us turned back to their food. Tessa leaned on the bar, face slack with disbelief. Violet sat as if her knees had stopped working. I licked my thumb and pushed it across the rim of my glass in a nervous habit.
“Um,” I said finally, because someone had to try to explain what had just happened. “Would you two like to clue me in here?”
“No.” Nana spoke softly now, her Irish lilt lined with steel.
Nonna smiled and her eyes twinkled. “Absolutely not.” She sounded both cheerful and determined. She stared at Nana across the table, both still standing. “Fiona, I find myself a bit peckish. Would you like to grab a drink with me at the Elks Lodge?”
Nana straightened. “I truly would. They have a new brandy I’ve been meaning to try.”
Nonna snagged the spoon out of my hand and shoved it into her handbag.
They moved in unison, like a practiced duet, and swept out the door together, their skirts swishing, heels striking a measured rhythm on the wet pavement. The air outside swallowed them up like two small queens taking their leave.
It took Tessa a minute to collect herself. She hurried over and dropped into the chair opposite me, hands pressed flat on the table as if steadying a ship. “What in the world?” she demanded, her voice small and incredulous. Her hands trembled a little.
I opened my mouth. Sound didn’t come. For the first time that afternoon, I felt a little unmoored.
Rain hissed against the windows, a steady backdrop to the absurdity.
The fryer hummed and the low murmur of other diners resumed like nothing had interrupted them.
My chest was tight, adrenaline and reluctant pride doing a slow, combustible dance.
Finally, I sucked in air. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
Tessa put her face in her hands for a second, then pushed back and laughed in a fractured tone that might have been hysterical if the situation weren’t so painfully real. “That was like something out of an acid trip.”
I let out the breath. “I need more information from them both.”
Outside, the rain picked up, drumming a faster tempo on the awning. The smell of wet earth came in on the breeze, grounding me. We sat there for a long moment, letting the ordinary sounds of the diner stitch the edges of the afternoon back together.
I thought of Zippy in his impeccable suit, of Nonna’s wooden spoon, of Nana’s quiet appetite for mischief. I thought of the Elks Lodge brandy and the way two energetic women could rearrange the equilibrium of a room. Then I stood, reaching for my coat. “I guess I’m going to the Elks Lodge.”
Tessa drew back. “You can’t. They’ll eat you alive.”
I didn’t have a choice.