Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
One way or another, I was getting her out of at least one of these cases.
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.