But Evie had MIT engineers on hand who could make it work. A giant motion-activated turkey that bounced up and down and gave off the world’s most awful racket was an embarrassment—but the perfect warning system. Thanksgiving was just around the corner.
And Pris had no jobs lined up. This might be the first holiday since she was sixteen when she wasn’t catering someone else’s festivities.
Before she could leave the kitchen, Evie’s phone pinged. Reading her text, she waved it at Pris. “KK had the kind of life insurance paid for by the corporation. La Bella Gente benefits.”
“And Lucia?”
Evie shrugged. “Probably, but since she’s not been declared dead, the company is still paying for her insurance.”
Pris gave a grunt of disgust and began battering dough with a rolling pin.
Evie’s cell rang again as she carried a three-foot stuffed monster turkey down the stairs from the attic. “Get that for me, will you?” she cried while she wrestled the creature into the parlor.
Pris picked up the phone and hit play after the call went to voicemail.
Mayor Larraine Ward’s calm drawl covered a lifetime of fury. “Lawson is claiming I burned down my building for the insurance and to cover La Bella Gente’s misappropriation of funds. She claims she has evidence. Can Jax smother that woman in her hospital bed?”
Dante had tossedand turned on the air mattress in the cellar half the night, despite jetlag and exhaustion. Adjusting to the possibility that the woman he’d cursed these past years might have been dead instead of enjoying the nightlife of London...didn’t come easily.
But by morning his leg had sufficiently rested to climb out of the cellar with only a modicum of difficulty. His fist merely dented the metal crutch bars.
When he entered the yard, the twins raced up, giggling, and a giant hole yawned in his midsection. They might really and truly be motherless, and a worthless father like him might be their sole provider. He almost hated that more than fearing Lucia might come back for them. He apparently still harbored the illusion that she might care about them.
Time to wake up to reality. They were his and his alone. Somehow, he had to show that he could love them twice as much as one person.
He couldn’t catch the twins while gripping a crutch. He settled on the porch stairs so they could hurtle into his lap to show him their treasures. That they came to him was an overwhelming experience in itself. When Nan held out an odd-shaped rock and asked “Is this an arrow?” he almost fell over at her interest as much as the fact that she’dtalked.
“It could have been,” he said carefully, trying not to discourage her. “But it isn’t chipped enough to work. Arrows are hard to make.” How did she even know about arrows?
The screen door opened and Pris stepped out carrying a blessed cup of coffee. “Evie has an arrowhead collection in the attic. You should ask her about it.”
The twins instantly scrambled from his lap to run inside. They didn’t shout excitedly, but they’d have to say something at some point if they wanted to see arrows.
Dante took the offered mug. “They need people around to force them to communicate, don’t they?”
“Yup. Your mother is fabulous, but like any exhausted mother, she lets them entertain themselves. At least it isn’t with TV.” She leaned against the porch column. “We need to talk. Want to eat first?”
“I’m never going to sleep again, am I?” With a sigh, Dante handed back his mug and pried himself upright.
“If you’ve been sleeping the sleep of innocence all these years, then I’m guessing you don’t have as much to worry about as the Gladwells do.” She held the door until he was inside.
She suspectedhemight have murdered Lucia? Of course, she did. At least she wasn’t accusing him...yet.
“We’re almost on the same page then. I didn’t kill her.” He propped himself on a counter stool and sipped his coffee, heating the morning chill from the inside.
Under the Siamese cat’s watchful eye, Pris began removing ingredients from the ancient harvest-gold refrigerator that might qualify as an artifact in a few years. “Yeah, I was kinda counting on you not being a passionate fool.”
He would have laughed had the situation not been so serious. Grimly, he swigged his caffeine. “I really can fix my own food. I’ve just never tried it one-handed. This crutch is like having a broken arm as well as leg.”
“That’s okay. I talk easier if I’m occupied.” She threw bacon on the griddle and dipped bread in a bowl of eggs. “And yeah, I imagine we’re on the same page. It never made sense that a healthy mother would abandon her babies except under duress. And with all that land, she wasn’t poor or starving.”
“I should have investigated then, but I was too furious. And scared. I was working a dig in Crete while finishing my doctorate. I knew nothing of babies. I called lawyers.” He sipped his coffee and spoke one of the fears he’d conjured last night. “I should have had Lucia’s domestic situation investigated, but I was more concerned with my own.”
“You had no way of knowing. We still don’t know anything. Until we do, we should refrain from speculation.” She flung the egg-laden bread on the griddle.
“I hadn’t met the Gladwells back then. I just assumed Lucia had found a more exciting life.” He rubbed his scruffy jaw and realized he must look like hell. But they needed to have this discussion now, while it was still raw on their minds.
Pris flipped the bread, then refilled his coffee cup. She’d apparently already showered because she smelled of gardenias, and her hair was slicked back. He liked it better when the curls formed around her face. And he had no right noticing.
