“That’s Trappers Cove for ya. We honor our weirdness.”
He swiveled in his seat and took her hands, his eyes large and luminous. “Hannah, I don’t know how to thank you. There’s no way I could’ve pulled this together.”
“Zora deserves the credit. I just made a few phone calls to get the ball rolling.”
“I’ll be sure to thank her.” He stood and extended his hand. “My family’s going to ask about the woman they saw me making out with.”
She giggled as he helped her to her feet. “If that’s what you call making out, your love life needs resuscitation.”
“Are you volunteering?” His mischievous smile twinkled.
What the hell is wrong with me? Flirting at a funeral?
Reluctantly, she stepped back. “Let’s keep this professional for now. As soon as we’re done here, I’m writing a story on Gus’s send-off.”
Still grinning, Xander nodded. “Right. For now.” He inclined his head toward the Anagnos clan. “Since you’ll be splashing my family’s weirdness all over your newspaper, will you be my moral support for a few more minutes?”
Hannah returned his playful smile. “Sounds like a fair trade.”
He took her hand, a gesture she enjoyed way too much, and led her through the milling crowd to his family, who held themselves aloof from the others—except for the slouchy teen boy from earlier, who hunched with Daphne’s son over a portable gaming device.
Score one more for Team Trappers Cove.
Mama Anagnos puffed up at their approach. “AlexandrosIoannis Anagnos, that was—”
Her husband grabs her elbow. “Lydia, dearest, not now.”
The older woman’s nostrils flared, just like her son’s, but she held her tongue.
The family resemblance was remarkable. The whole crew shared Xander’s dark, curly hair, elegantly curved nose, strong jaw, and sturdy build. The men were broad-shouldered, the women buxom. From eight to eighty, they were strikingly good-looking people, and dressed to impress in expensive, tailored suits and sheath dresses.
Hannah tugged at her black blazer, a classic but well-worn find from Annie’s vintage shop. She needn’t have worried, though. Mama Anagnos’s eyes were laser-focused on her face, not her outfit.
“Introduce us to your girlfriend, Xander.”
“Just a friend,” she blurted. Freeing herself from Xander’s grasp, she proffered her hand. “Hannah Leone. Welcome to Trappers Cove, Mrs. Anagnos. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Just a friend, eh?” The older woman smirked. “You always kiss your friends like that?”
“When they’re hurting, sure. Why not?”
“So.” Arms folded over his barrel chest, Xander’s father executed a slow pivot. “This is my brother’s legacy.” His meaning was clear enough, judging from his pursed lips and wrinkled nose. And okay, therewasa slight musty whiff beneath the cloying scent of funeral flowers, but Hannah associated that smell with good memories. Clearly, Papa Anagnos did not.
“Yes, Baba,” Xander countered. “The shop is mine now. I’m looking forward to re-opening soon.”
“Is that so?” The old guy’s forehead pleated.
A loud whistle ended the father-son staring contest. As if by magic, the tables set up along the far wall had filled with food—Garrett’s cookies and cupcakes, dozens of homemade pies and cakes, platters of finger sandwiches, fruit and veggie trays from Trappers Market, and enough paper plates and cups to serve the whole town.
Salvatore Verducci, head of the Sons of Italy Lodge, clapped his hands and shouted, “Food’s on. Mangiamo!” He pointed a stubby finger at Xander. “Come on, son. You’ve got a big job ahead of you. Time to fuel up.” Though the mustachioed old gent’s words were bossy, his tone was kind.
“Coming, sir.” Xander crooked his elbow. “Mama, let me introduce you to my new neighbors.”
Hannah hid her grin beneath a tissue as she watched them go, trailed by the rest of the family. Only Xander’s father stayed behind, glaring from beneath thick black eyebrows as he surveyed the remains of Gus’s shop.
Finally, he turned to Hannah. “He’s making a mistake, you know.”
“Oh?” She forced a neutral expression.More flies with honey…
