I was just about to reply when my grandpa's voice carried out from somewhere near the kitchen. "What's that about Tango?"
I looked toward the kitchen in time to see him emerge from around the corner holding a bottle of beer. I looked back to Gwen. "Are you sure you don't want to come in?"
Again, she hesitated. "But you didn't answer my question. Were you surprised? Or did you know that already? About Tango, I mean?"
From behind me, my grandpa said, "Andyoudidn't answer mine. What's that about my cat?"
When I turned to look, he was standing only a few paces away. In a low voice, I said, "I'll tell you later."
His eyebrows furrowed. "Why not now?"
Feeling like a teenager, I gave him a pleading look. "Because I'm trying to have a private conversation."
He made a scoffing sound. "Not if she's standing on the front porch."
I looked back to Gwen. "I think you'd better come in, unless you wantmeto come out."
When her only reply was a worried look, I added, "But to answer your question, no, Ididn'tknow. I still don't. But if you wanna come inside, you can ask the guy who does."
Chapter 12
Gwen
From his seat near the fireplace, Drake's grandfather gave me a funny look. "So Celia's your aunt? You're not pulling my leg, are you?"
The older guy had settled himself onto what I guessed was his favorite recliner while Drake and I had claimed the nearby sofa.
The pets had also joined us. Now Cash was flopped out on a thick rug in front of the glowing fire while Tango was perched precariously on the back of Clint's chair.
Clint – that was the name of Drake's grandfather. I'd learned this just a few moments ago when we'd officially introduced ourselves.
I had just finished telling him a more tactful version of what I'd heard from Harper, and so far, his only reply had been to question the fact that I was related to Aunt Celia at all.
With an awkward smile, I told him, "No joke. I'm her niece, alright."
He didn't look convinced. "But the two of you seem so different."
"How so?" I asked.
"Well, the glasses for one thing. You wouldn’t catchherwearing something so…" But then, after a glance at Drake, he switched gears and mumbled, "I just don't see the resemblance, that's all."
This was no mystery. Aunt Celia wasveryfashionable. Even at sixty, her hair was long and blonde. Her figure was tight and trim. Her makeup was always flawless, and she knew exactly what to wear, which meant you wouldn’t catchherwearing glasses that looked anything like mine.
Come to think of it, I'd never seen her wearing glasses at all, well except for the shaded variety.
I told Clint, "Sure, we're different, but wearerelated." If I were as blunt as him, I might've asked howhecame to be a grandfather at such a young age. But unlikesomepeople, I was discussing the cats.
With a pointed look at Tango, I said, "Sohe'sthe one who fathered the kittens?"
Clint gave a casual shrug. "That's the way Celia tells it."
I recalled the few details I'd heard from Aunt Celia herself. This had been during a phone conversation about three weeks ago, when she'd asked me to pet-sit. To Clint, I said, "But she made no mention of a neighbor. She just said that the pet-sitter was someone she golfed with."
Clint snorted. "Not anymore." He leaned forward. "Do you know, she threatened me with her nine-iron?"
"You mean a golf club?" I couldn’t even imagine. Aunt Celia was normally so poised. "When wasthis?"
"Just a few weeks ago."
