He unfolded his napkin. “Good family. You can tell.”
“So, are you going to drop this ridiculous lawsuit against my Nana?”
He smiled faintly. “It’s not ridiculous. I have a strong case.”
“Yeah, but do you really want to start your Silverville retirement by suing a local grandmother? That’s not exactly a social icebreaker.”
He leaned back, considering. “We don’t always choose our clients, Ms. Albertini. They choose us.”
“Convenient,” I said. “And yes, I’m Fiona’s granddaughter, which means I’ll absolutely go to the mat for her.”
He chuckled softly, and the sound carried a strange warmth. I could see why juries might like him. “I understand, but it looks like she sabotaged Gloria’s pie, which caused emotional distress and probably some business losses.”
“I think you’ve lost your mind,” I said flatly.
Violet returned with our drinks, placing them on the table.
Zippy gave her a polite nod before turning back to me. “I like you. You’re spunky. You remind me of your grandmother. Fiona is spirited. Always has been.”
I blinked. “You’ve met her?”
“Years ago,” he said, his tone changing slightly.
Before I could press further, the door behind me opened, and a sudden shift in the air made the hairs on my arms rise. I turned, already somehow knowing who was walking inside.
Nana O’Shea and Nonna Albertini swept into the restaurant like they owned the place. Nana still wore her best dress, her hair perfectly coiffed. Nonna looked just as fierce in a fitted navy jacket, her silver hair immaculate, and her glasses a glamorous nod to Sophia Loren. Together, they were a storm front in heels.
“Oh my,” Zippy murmured, standing automatically.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “That about sums it up.”
They reached the table in perfect unison, flanking me like a two-person honor guard.
“I told you I did not want you to meet with him,” Nana said, her Irish lilt higher than usual.
“I’m sorry, Nana,” I said carefully. “But it’s standard in a case like this. I’m trying to find a way to end this ridiculous fight peacefully.”
“Can we, Zippy?” Nonna asked sharply, fixing him with the kind of look that could cut through steel.
Zippy blinked, clearly caught off guard. “It is good to see both of you again,” he said, looking between them.
I froze. “Wait, what?”
From behind the bar, Tessa had stopped wiping glasses and was staring like she’d just found herself front row to a soap opera. I shrugged helplessly.
“Anna,” Nonna said, her Italian accent slipping in strong now, “we would very much like for you to leave.”
“I think I’ll stay right here,” I said, not moving.
Zippy smiled politely, though his eyes remained sharp. “Well, ladies, I’d be honored to have your company. Would you like to sit down?”
Nonna leaned forward suddenly, close enough that I caught the faint scent of her gardenia perfume. “Listen, you two-farted face head, you get out of this town and the hell away from my granddaughter before I take your head off.”
My jaw literally dropped open. I sat back in my chair a little, the vinyl giving a faint squeal. What was a two-farted face head? Did she mean two-faced?
“Yeah,” Nana said, leaning in.
Nonna drew a wooden spoon out of her monstrous purse as if it were a talisman. The spoon thunked against her palm.
