No Limos Allowed

Breaking News, Franny Style

Maisie

It was just after nine when I reached my own front porch. My head was still spinning from a day that somehow felt lighter – and shorter – even though I'd clocked nearly twelve hours at the shop.

To my surprise, Griff had wanted to start right away – not even first thing tomorrow, but right after our interview, if you could even call it that.

Surprised or not, I sure as heck hadn't complained. Unlike yesterday, I hadn't had to do everything alone, and it was amazing how one surprise employee could make such a difference.

Now, even my bike felt lighter as I began hauling it up the front steps, only to freeze in confusion as I reached the top.

I leaned sideways and squinted toward the front window. Strange. I could've sworn I'd seen a rustle in the blinds, like someone had just peeked out.

Tessa?

If so, that was new. We both lived here, sure, but it wasn't like either one of us waited by the window for the other to come home. We weren't those kinds of roommates. At least not yet.

Then again, we'd stayed up until nearly two in the morning last night, talking over those tiny bottles of booze. So maybe something had shifted?

I tucked my bike into its usual spot on the porch and opened the front door to find Tessa standing just inside, like she'd been waiting there for hours. This couldn't be true, of course, because those blinds hadn't rustled themselves.

I lifted a hand in an awkward wave. "Hey."

She smiled like she knew something I didn't. "So…how was work?"

Something was definitely up . "Fine. Why?"

Her tone was overly casual as she replied, "No reason."

I had to laugh. "Oh, there's a reason. I can tell."

Her smile turned sheepish. "Okay…well, I just heard something, that's all."

"About what?"

"You actually."

"Oh?"

"Uh, yeah." She hesitated. "By any chance, do you know a woman named Franny?"

I almost snorted. "Yeah, everyone knows Franny."

Francine "Franny" Mulberry was the island's walking, talking news network – minus the filter and the fact-checking. She was a seventy-something retired schoolteacher with an addiction to fudge and a sixth sense for juicy gossip.

Nobody knew exactly how she heard things so fast, but if you sneezed in the ferry line, Franny probably knew by the time you reached Main Street.

Tessa gave me a funny look. "Not everyone . I mean… I didn't know her."

Unlike Tessa, I'd lived on the island for most of my life. As a result, I knew exactly how things worked. "But you definitely know Franny now ."

She blinked. "How'd you know?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Call it a hunch." I knew Franny better than most. She and my grandma had been friends back in the day – even if my grandma had been a little older.

This probably explained why every once in a while, I got roped in to Franny's weekly card games, usually when someone else canceled. So let's just say that I was no stranger to Franny and her antics.

Sure enough, Tessa confessed, "Yeah, I met her today when she came into the coffee shop."

I laughed. "See? You do know her."

"Yeah, but not before today."

"Well, you can bet your sweet bippy that she knew you ."

Tessa's eyebrows furrowed. "Funny…now that you mention it, she did seem to know me."

"Told ya." On autopilot, I kicked off my shoes. "Care if we talk in the kitchen? I've got to see what I've got for sandwiches." As I headed in that direction, I asked, "So what did Franny say?"

Tessa followed after me. "She said you hired someone." A note of worry crept into her voice. "Is it true?"

I stopped and turned to look. "Is that a problem?"

"No. Of course not." She bit her lip. "It's just that…what kind of guy is willing to work for free?"

Oh, my God.

Where did Franny hear that?

It wasn't even true, not technically. But Franny rarely let facts get in the way of a good story. I told Tessa, "Don't worry. He's not working for nothing ."

She looked relieved. "Oh."

"He's working for food."

She did a double-take. "Wait…food?"

"Yeah." I was almost embarrassed to say it. "You know…like a sandwich."

She just looked at me.

Quickly, I added, "And a bike."

She tilted her head, frowning like she'd misheard. "So…he's working for a bike and a sandwich?"

"Not just one sandwich," I clarified. "Multiple sandwiches." I reached up to rub the back of my neck before finishing in a rush. "And the bike's a loaner, not for keepsies."

By now, the look of relief was long-gone. "So he is working for free."

I gave a resigned sigh. "Okay, fine. Sure, he's not getting an actual paycheck, but I am giving him something."

I turned and continued into the kitchen, flipping on the lights and eyeballing my cupboards. I didn't need to open them to know they weren't exactly overflowing.

Tessa asked, "But why would he work for so little?"

That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? I'd been asking it myself all day, and I had yet to find an answer. Maybe I didn't want to find it – because if Griff was helping me out of pity, what did that say about me for letting him?

It wouldn't say anything good, that's for sure.

For my own benefit as much as Tessa's, I said, "It's not like I twisted his arm."

"I never said you did."

"Yeah, but I'm just saying…it was his idea, not mine."

I turned and opened the fridge. To nobody's surprise, the contents were pathetic – half a jar of olives, a single yogurt, and one sad-looking tomato. No lunchmeat, no bread, no lettuce either.

I frowned. The island's only grocery store was already closed, which meant that I would need to get creative – or ambitious. I shut the fridge and turned back to Tessa.

Apparently, this was her cue to ask, "But why? I mean…nobody works for sandwiches."

"Don't forget the bike," I reminded her. "That totally counts."

"But not for keeps," she reminded me . "So, no. It doesn't."

Oh, for crying out loud.

Who was Tessa to decide what counted and what didn't? Biting back annoyance, I said, "Look, I appreciate your concern. I really do, but I can't afford to be picky, okay?" I gave her a pleading look. "I was drowning. You know that. So excuse me if I grab the first decent lifeline that comes along."

Her tone sharpened. "Well, excuse me if I'm concerned." But then she paused, and her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God."

I glanced around. "What?"

Through splayed fingers, she said, "I sound just like my mom."

Oddly enough, I had met Tessa's mom. She and I had never hit it off, probably because Tessa's mom had never been the warm and fuzzy type, especially with Delaney, who was definitely not the golden girl.

And now I didn't know what to say.

Tessa dropped her hands. "I'm really sorry. I know it's none of my business. Just forget I said anything, okay?"

For some reason, this wasn't what I wanted to hear. Unlike Delaney, I'd never had a big sister. And just now, even though I'd been incredibly annoyed, it had been kind of nice to see that she cared.

And all I'd done was snap at her for it. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off. You're being…weirdly nice, and I guess I panicked."

She stared at me. " Weirdly nice?"

I felt heat rush to my cheeks. "Sorry, I meant really nice."

This made her snicker. "No, you didn't."

Well, this was awkward. I felt the corners of my mouth tug into a reluctant smile. "Can I blame the hangover?"

Surprise flashed across her face. "You're still hung over?"

I had to laugh. "No, but I still want to blame it."

This made her laugh, too. "Deal." She gave me a wicked grin. "But only if you tell me more."

I tried to sound casual. "About what?"

"You know what," she said. "Or rather, you know who ."

Yup, I sure did. And the way it sounded, I would be spilling my guts one way or another. But hey, it wasn't all bad. After all, there were things I wanted to learn, too.

"Deal," I said. "But in return, you've got to tell me what Franny said. And…" I almost hated to say it. "Do you care if I bake some bread while we talk?"

This made her frown. "Now? But you've been on your feet all day."

I glanced toward the lower cupboard where I kept my mixers and whatnot. "Yeah, but I've got a bread machine, so it won't be that hard." This was technically true, but Tessa was right. I'd been on my feet for hours, and I was dying to take a load off. Still, I tried to smile. "So, is it a deal?"

"Nope." She lifted her chin. "I've got one better. You talk. I'll bake."

My heart warmed at the offer, but guilt made me pause. "But that doesn't seem fair…to you, I mean."

Tessa waved away my concerns. "You've been working for what? Twelve hours?"

"More or less," I admitted.

"Yeah, well I only worked for eight. And I'm living in your house. The least I can do is bake your bread." When I still hesitated, she added, "I'm not taking no for an answer." She grinned. "So spill it, sister."