“It’s the beginning of spring,” I said. “Folks want to be out and about even though it’s raining.”
Outside, the sky was the color of old pewter, rain streaking down the glass in silver threads. “It’s nice to have the snow gone,” I added, “and to see a blue sky once in a while.”
Tessa angled her neck toward the window. “Not today, though. Today’s just gray and rainy.”
I wrapped my hands around the warm edge of the counter. “It is, and it makes me want to curl up with a cup of coffee and a good book.”
“What’s going on with Nana’s case?” she asked, her voice softening.
“Nothing good.” I patted her arm and headed for the booth. My boots squeaked slightly on the tile floor as I made my way past a row of occupied tables.
“Hello, sweetheart,” my mom said as I reached them. She scooted over to make room. She really favored Nana with the same green eyes, reddish-blond hair, and mischievous expressions that always made them look like they were planning something. Tessa had inherited it too, which wasn’t fair.
I slid into the booth with a sigh.
“What was that for?” Mom asked.
“That was a heavy sigh.” Nana leaned over to pat my hand. Her nails were painted shamrock green, of course. “Honey, you can’t take life so seriously.”
“Seriously? Who, me?” I teased, smiling just as Tessa arrived with a sparkling water and set it in front of me. I’d quit soda weeks ago, but sparkling water made me feel oddly sophisticated, like I was managing adulthood, one bubble at a time.
“Want a lime?” Tessa asked.
“No, I’m good. Thanks.” I could tell she was already running on fumes.
Nana smiled up at her. “Are you sure you can’t join us?”
“Oh, Nana, I wish I could,” she said, her shoulders dropping for half a second. “We’re just swamped right now. If I get a break, I’ll come sit down.”
Nana gave her a warm smile. “All right, sweetheart. We’ll be here.”
Tessa hurried off toward the kitchen, the clatter of plates and hum of conversation swelling behind her.
I idly wondered if Mom had any inkling that my two grandmothers had met up at the diner in Silverville. Something told me she didn’t. Best to keep it that way. The wrath of one grandmother was bad enough; two could end civilizations.
“We already ordered,” Nana said. “Moira and I weren’t sure when you were going to get here.”
“That’s fine,” I said, glancing toward the counter. “Tessa will pick something good for me.” She always did. “So, Nana, we need to talk about your case.” I glanced at my mom.
“Oh, please,” Nana said, rolling her pretty green eyes. “You can say whatever you want in front of Moira.”
“I know,” I said, lowering my voice, “but that negates attorney-client privilege. Mom can be subpoenaed for anything she hears.”
My mom sighed, sliding out of the booth. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll go sit at the counter until our food’s ready. Maybe I’ll help your sister. She’s way too busy.”
I stood so she could pass, then retook her seat, guilt edging the back of my throat.
“Anna, you don’t make up the law.” Nana gave me that pointed look she’d perfected over the years. “Stop feeling guilty.”
“Thanks, Nana.” My heart warmed. “Okay, this is kind of difficult.”
“Just spit it out, honey.” Her brogue thickened again.
“We have CCTV footage, which are camera recordings from the courthouse,” I began carefully. “It shows someone in a leprechaun outfit leaving the back of your shop a few hours before the pie tasting contest.”
Nana blinked. “Well, that’s good. Excellent. So we can figure out who it was.”
“The thing is…” I leaned in, lowering my voice. “The person was wearing your costume.”
