Twenty-six
Edie was feeling the old thrill of the heist rising in her; she would have skipped back to the house that night if she wasn’t afraid of falling and breaking something. Her balance wasn’t what it used to be.
She’d spent the afternoon with Grant Howell, a man she’d dated the summer they’d spent in Vegas.
His name had come roaring back to her out of the blue.
She remembered that he’d worked in casino security.
Irene had found his number, and to Edie’s amazement, he’d answered the phone.
He was retired, bored, and happy to hear from an old friend.
He’d agreed to meet her at an old haunt for a drink.
Grant didn’t ask a single question about Edie other than if she was married.
She’d said she was, but she was here with her book club on holiday.
Grant didn’t need to know any more about her.
He was happy to talk about the Pelican. He knew everything there was to know about the casinos in town, and especially the Pelican, now that it was going crypto.
With a few prompts from Edie, he talked. And talked and talked.
When she walked into the house, she was immediately greeted with the smell of something so savory that her stomach growled.
She hadn’t eaten since this morning. She figured the cook was Fran, but came to a hard stop when she saw her granddaughter wearing an apron and stirring something on the stove.
Moreover, Irene and Joan were seated at the tiny kitchen table with laptops and notebooks. Like this was all perfectly normal.
“Hi, Nana.”
Don’t “Hi, Nana’” me. She was still so angry with Marcy. “Are your bags packed?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go. We can find a flight at the airport.”
“Hi, Edie.”
Edie had not heard Frances come into the kitchen and turned around. She looked pale and disheveled, her hair a mess. She’d obviously been napping hard. “Something smells delicious,” Frances said, but her face said otherwise.
“What is the matter with you?” Edie asked.
“I had a nap. So?”
“I thought Marcy would be on her way to the airport by now.”
“Yeah. About that,” Frances said, and winced slightly. “I was thinking—”
“Don’t think,” Edie interjected, thrusting a finger into Frances’s face. “Don’t say whatever you are about to say, because Marcy is leaving.”
Frances calmly pushed her hand aside. “Hear me out.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind? I am not going to hear you out, Fran. This is my granddaughter.”
“Edie. Please hear her out,” Joan said. “That’s our rule—we always hear what the others are saying. Communication and respect are—”
“No!” Edie said, turning on Joan and Irene. “We are not going to peace and love our way out of this, Joan! Marcy is not staying. If she stays, then I go.”
Irene groaned. “Here we go.”
“Edie, listen. We need an in with Rocco,” Frances said. “Marcy knows him. He wanted to date her at some point and look at her—she’s as beautiful as you. She’s the perfect lure. We need her.”
Edie’s rage was rapidly building. She wanted to grab whatever Marcy was stirring and fling it at the wall.
“I can’t believe you’re even suggesting this,” she said, her voice shaking with fury.
“Kids are off-limits. Is this my payback? You’re all still so mad about what happened that you’d use my own granddaughter against me? ”
“For heaven’s sake, Edie,” Joan said.
“Nana, I want to help,” Marcy said. “I mean, sure, this morning I didn’t because I was hungover and mad at you. But what you’re avenging here? Rocco did that to me. And my friends. You’re not the only one who wants to make him pay—I want him to pay.”
But Edie was shaking her head.
“You must admit that having someone to reel in that big fish would be extremely helpful,” Joan said before Edie could find the words to express how terrible this was.
“If Marcy could find out what his plans are, that would be even more helpful. And it would be a huge bonus to us if she could keep him occupied while we do the job.”
“Absolutely not,” Edie said. “She can’t navigate that.” How could they even suggest it?
“Maybe not right at this moment, but who better to train her than the best?” Frances asked. “Her own grandmother.”
“Frances,” Edie whispered. “You know what ‘keep him occupied’ means.”
“There is more than one way to skin a cat,” Frances countered. “She can do it without compromising her principles.”
“I highly doubt it.”
“I’m right here,” Marcy reminded them. “Stop talking about me like I’m a child. I’m twenty-seven years old, Nana. I’m grown. You can’t tell me what to do anymore. And frankly, I’m really looking forward to getting to know the real you for once in my life.”
Fabulous. Now she had romanticized it. Edie had a strong desire to punch someone in the face. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me. Do you realize you are suddenly the most interesting person in my life? I want to help, and I want to do it with you because apparently, you kick ass and take names later.”
“Marcy, please,” Edie pleaded. “What we do … well, let’s just say it can lead to significant ramifications.”
“I understand,” Marcy said.
She looked so resolute. Not the hapless, hopeless girl she’d been these last few weeks. Edie could feel defeat creeping into her bones. “This is insane. Absolutely insane.”
“Look, if things go south, Marcy is the first to walk away,” Frances said.
“Of course things are going to go south, Franny! We are too old and too slow to pull this off!”
“Hey,” Joan snapped. “No negative talk.”
“What if she asks too many questions?” Edie continued. “Or starts thinking she knows better? Because they all do, eventually.”
“Then one of us will kick her ass,” Irene said.
Marcy laughed, but Frances shook her head. “Not a joke, kiddo. Joan’s been practicing martial arts for years and could break your neck right now. And I have a gun.”
“Franny!” Joan exclaimed.
“Okay, I don’t. But I could have. The point is, we will kick her ass if we need to and, in the meantime, she will cook for us. It smells delicious. So, can we please get past the ‘Oh no, my precious granddaughter’ and get on with the meeting? Or are we going to gnash our teeth all night?”
“Soup’s on,” Marcy said defiantly, and opened a cabinet door to get some bowls.
Edie watched in disbelief as the rest of them lined up at the stove to exclaim over her dish. “Turkey and white bean soup,” Marcy said proudly. “Nana’s recipe.”
When the others had their bowls, Marcy filled one and tried to hand it to Edie.
Edie ignored it. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said. She reached up and stroked Marcy’s hair. “Marcy, darling … you don’t understand the risks.”
“Oh, I think Frances explained them pretty well. If we don’t pull it off, it’s either jail or death.”
“Maybe not that bad,” Joan said. “We’d bail before death. I mean, if we can. Sometimes, you get in a situation and it’s not so easy to get out of it.”
“Nana, listen,” Marcy said. “You treat me like a child. And I treat you like this … queen. I want to help. Especially because this is my problem. And … you can’t stop me this time.” She pushed the bowl into Edie’s hands and smiled. “Love you.”
Edie reluctantly took the bowl of soup. “Love you, too, darling. More than you will ever know.” She just hoped Marcy remembered that when she was sitting in cell at Sing-Sing. Or wherever they sent women.
“Well, then!” Frances said pertly. “Looks like our girl gang of four is now five!”
“But her cut is coming out of your share, Edie,” Irene was quick to add.
Edie could only stare at them. She was not okay with this.
But as they began to report back on their respective day, she could feel herself loosening.
She watched Marcy—she was taking notes (even when Irene told her she had to eat the paper later) and was listening attentively.
At one point, she even remarked how she couldn’t believe all they’d managed to do in the short time they’d been here.
“We have to,” Joan said. “You may have noticed we’re not getting any younger.”
Irene said that not only did she get the part-time job, she’d already clocked Mark Wachtel’s movements.
“How?” Edie asked. She’d forgotten how incredibly resourceful Irene could be.
“For one, he ambles around a lot. And two, takes frequent smoke breaks in his car. I’ve already got a tracker on it. He’s not married, has no kids. He eats at McDonald’s a lot.”
Everyone was staring at Irene in awe.
She rolled her eyes. “Could you please stop looking at me like a bunch of Boomers? It’s just not that hard to find information about anyone now.
Most people are careless and put it all out on the web.
Which reminds me.” She reached into a tote bag and withdrew plastic bags and handed them around to everyone, including Marcy.
“What’s this?” Frances asked.
“Burner phones, Wires and earpieces. So we can talk to each other. The app is already downloaded on your burners. Also? No texts. Nothing that could be used against us.” She pulled out her phone and the same equipment.
She put the wire on her collar and the small flesh-colored earpiece in her ear.
In fifteen minutes, they’d learned how to use the communication equipment and app.
Frances went next. “I secured a vehicle and the necessary parts to alter it.”
“What is it?” Joan asked.
“A van. A very beat-up old van that will require some modification to the back. But I’ve got a chop shop lined up and materials to do the work.”
“You can still do that sort of heavy lifting?” Edie asked, eyeing Frances’s thin frame.
“I guess I’ll find out. I should mention that it’s Skinner’s van. He was willing to let it go for a used pickup truck.”
Edie’s heart skipped—they did not work with others. “Is that wise?”
Frances laughed. “Hope so.”
“I have a sense about people,” Irene offered. “That kid is in it for a buck. He’s cool.”
“What about you, Edie?” Frances asked.
“Well, I met up with a security guy I dated the summer we were here and learned everything there is to know about the Pelican vault.”