I grabbed my phone and dialed Zippy O’Bellini, taking the number off the document.
He answered on the second ring, his voice a deep rumble that sounded both amused and professional. “O’Bellini.”
“Hi, it’s Anna Albertini,” I replied.
He didn’t waste time. “I’ve been meaning to give you a call. Would you like to talk settlement negotiations?”
“Absolutely,” I said, already expecting trouble. “I don’t suppose you’re going to be anywhere near Silverville later today?”
He paused. “Well, I will be. I’m actually looking at some office space there.”
So it was true. He was thinking of moving there.
“Wonderful,” I said. “Late afternoon, how about at Silver Sadie’s? Maybe four o’clock?”
He chuckled. “You want to meet at an old whorehouse?”
“It’s a restaurant now,” I said.
“Oh. Well then, yes. I look forward to meeting you.”
The line went dead.
I set the phone down and leaned back in my chair. Finally, things were starting to move.
Now I just had to get a few things handled before heading over to Silverville to watch my poor, sweet, innocent Nana get fingerprinted.
Today was going to suck.
Chapter 18
The air outside carried that mix of spring thaw and fresh rain with damp pavement, cold pine, and the faint sweetness of wet grass. Oliver walked me down to my car around lunchtime, saying he wanted to head to the diner for sandwiches.
“Since both Clark and Pauley want to work through lunch, don’t forget to remind Pauley that he has class this afternoon,” I said, adjusting my bag.
“No problem,” Oliver replied, shifting his weight on the cracked pavement.
I looked him over. His leather jacket looked suspiciously like Aiden’s, but it was newer, stiffer, and still carried that strong scent of fresh hide. “What’s up?”
“It’s harvest time on the farm,” he said.
It was that time of year. “Oh, right. I didn’t think of that.” Oliver had moved in with a local cranky farmer with a pure heart. They’d both been lonely, and it turned out to be a good match. “You need more time off?”
“I do. In the mornings, just for the next few weeks,” he said, glancing toward the street.
“That’s fine,” I said. “We’ll make it work.”
He blinked at me. “No problem?”
“No,” I said, smiling. “I know how the farming community works, and I’m sure you’ll be a big help. We’ll figure it out.”
Oliver looked toward the diner sign swinging in the breeze. “Do you want me to get someone temporary during that time?”
“Is it just three weeks?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I took a deep breath, tasting the coffee still lingering from the office. “Then no. I’d rather we just make it work. I can come in early and handle the phones. Training a temp would take just as long.”
