“All right.” I gave in gracefully. “Nana wants them back, so if you find and return them, I’ll invite you to one family Sunday night barbecue. Just one.”
The wind picked up and ruffled his brown hair. “I only need one,” he said easily. “Ms. Albertini, how’s Devlin doing? I heard he dropped hard in court earlier.”
There really were no secrets in Silverville. “He’s in the hospital, but he’s fine.”
Cormac nodded. “I knew that. I also know he’s planning to get discharged around five.” He checked his watch. “You’ve got time to pick him up.”
I gaped at him. “How do you even know that?”
“Like I said,” he replied, that grin settling back in. “I find people. And things.” That line rolled off his tongue like a practiced truth. He looked good in another cable-knit sweater, this one deep green, paired with faded jeans and black motorcycle boots.
My gaze caught on the boots. “You have a motorcycle?”
“Of course I have a motorcycle.”
It suited him. Something about the calm voice and sharp eyes fit the image perfectly.
“Does your sister like to ride?” he asked.
“You’ll have to ask her that.” Yet he did seem to know a lot about the town. I should make use of that fact. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the latest fiasco with my grandmother.”
“Of course. Psychedelic mushrooms.” His laugh came low and genuine. “They’re meant to calm the system, not send anyone on a trip. I haven’t done much research yet, but I know that much.” He waved a hand like the details bored him. “There are tons of companies selling health mushrooms right now. A few disguise the psychedelic kind, microdosed. It’s supposed to help with focus and mood, but the feds haven’t caught up.”
I swallowed. “You ever try them?”
“Heck no. I leave my brain alone. It’s perfect the way it is.”
The seriousness in his tone almost broke my composure. I started to laugh, then stopped when I realized he meant every word. “Well,” I said, smiling anyway, “that must be nice.”
“It is.”
“So,” I added, crossing my arms, “who do you think switched the tea in Nana’s shop?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Cormac said. “But I’d look at your sweet grandmother.”
I gasped. “You don’t know her.”
“No, I don’t. Which means I’m not clouded by a lens. She’s into the earth, into things that come from it, and mushrooms fit that. I could sell her tea to retail in a heartbeat, should I want.”
I blinked. “Are you serious?”
He nodded, the movement calm, measured.
“What about the lotion in the pie?”
“I don’t know her well enough, but that was hilarious.” His mouth twitched. “Imagine if Ms. Walton had been bothering your grandma for a while—giving little nudges, stirring things up. Maybe your grandma wanted to make a statement.” He lifted a hand before I could speak. “Don’t explode on me. I’m just saying, as an outsider looking in, maybe you’re a little blinded.”
My hands landed on my hips. “If you think I’m blinded, you should meet my sister.”
“I’ve met your sister,” he said, eyes lighting. “I’d like to know her a lot better.” The deadly serious tone caught me off guard.
I shook my head. “I don’t see it, Cormac. You’re nice to look at, sure, and you’ve got the whole mysterious vibe going on, but Donna is logical and organized and type A all the way. Opposites attract, but not that opposite, buddy.”
He smiled like a man who enjoyed a challenge.
“Still,” I said, “it’ll be fun watching you try.” I really did hope he found those silver boxes. Bringing him to Sunday dinner would be a circus, considering he was both Italian and Irish. The grandmothers might not let him leave. Ever.
A grin tugged at my mouth.
