The bell over the door jingled, and I glanced up as two people walked inside and strode by our table. My brain stalled for half a second.
Brad Backleboff gave a half bow to my grandmother as he passed, then kept walking. Brooke Walton followed close behind him, giving me a brief look before sliding into a booth farther down the row by the window.
“I think he’s a shyster,” Nana said casually, stirring her coffee.
“Yeah, but what is he doing with Brooke Walton?” I asked.
Nana turned, glanced back toward them, then faced me again. “Well, they’re both single. He’s mid-thirties, she’s mid-twenties, which is too far apart, I think.”
“She’s Gloria’s niece,” I said.
“Yes. She grew up in the Naperville area and moved to Montana about a year ago. She spends a lot of time with her aunt.” Nana glanced over her shoulder. “She’s a pretty girl, isn’t she?”
I angled my neck to get a better look. “Are they dating?”
“Well…” Nana looked off, considering. “I’ve seen them together in Silverville quite a few times. Never holding hands or anything, but out to dinner and such. They make a fine-looking couple, though I don’t like him very much. Of course, that could be because he tried to charge your sister with murder and now he’s charging me with something ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, still watching the pair. The two of them looked too comfortable, like this wasn’t a new thing. I leaned forward. “You know she’s been dating Clark too.”
“Our Clark?” Nana’s voice sharpened like a whip crack.
I grimaced. “Yes. I think he asked her to be his girlfriend, and she said no.”
Nana’s jaw dropped, pure shock flooding her face. “Why would anyone say no to Clark?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “I know, right? He’s the best.”
“Oh, he didn’t get his heart broken, did he?”
“Not yet,” I said, chewing on my lip. “But I don’t think he knows she’s also seeing Brad Backleboff.”
Nana’s expression turned fierce. “You have to tell him, Anna. Clark could do so much better than someone who’d date that man, no matter how pretty she might be.” She smoothed the napkin on the table. “Plus, she’s Gloria’s niece.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That about sums it up.”
My phone dinged. I looked down, read the screen, and groaned.
“What is it?” Nana asked.
“I’ve got a settlement agreement going south,” I said, exhaling. “It’s over farmland outside the valley in a boundary line argument. I thought we had it handled.” I grabbed my purse. “I need to go. Can’t stay for lunch.”
Nana sipped her coffee, unruffled. “That’s okay. Do you know when I can look at that film of the fake leprechaun?”
“I’ll see if I can get a copy so we can go through it together,” I said. “Maybe you’ll recognize something the rest of us missed.”
She nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. “Good. I’d like to see what kind of fool copied my outfit. I worked very hard on it, and I love the stitching.”
I slid out of the booth, pausing halfway up. “I wish I had more news about the dynamite in your shop.”
She placed the napkin on her lap. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty confident we’ll get the boxes back.”
That stopped me. “You are? Why?”
A small shrug lifted her shoulders. “I think that young Cormac Coretti knows what he’s doing.”
That damn charmer. I kept my tone even. “Why do you think that?”
“I don’t know,” she said, eyes bright with something between amusement and faith. “There’s just something about him. He’s Irish.”
