“Not really.” This is what is known as baiting the hook.
Sure enough, my grandmother executes a slow spin, regarding me with a curious expression. “Oh?”
I’ve had time to think this through, and while Grandma Lainey is less likely to play the law-and-order card than most adults, she’ll definitely have follow-up questions if I provide too many details about the circumstances leading to our discovery.
“I overheard the Queen B talking to someone.”
“Her cat?”
I blink fast. That’s a little too good of a guess. Rather than attempting a fake laugh—which Grandma Lainey would see through in an instant—I go for light sarcasm. “Not unless the cat dabbles in architecture.”
My grandmother joins me on the couch, half turned so we’re facing each other. The inquisitive slant of her head encourages me to go on.
“I understand,” my grandmother says when I finish blathering about buildings and plans and property developers. “You have every right to be disturbed. She’s a disturbing person.”
“Yeah, but this is more than that. She hasplans.”
“People like that are always plotting something.” Grandma Lainey stifles a yawn.
“Architecturalplans. She wants totear down the whole building. Shouldn’t you do something? All of you, I mean.” I point at the ceiling and then the floor. “The whole gang.”
“That’s just it. We’re a team. The Castle Claude family operates as a unified whole—which is how I know she’ll never get her way.” She scoffs lightly, playing with the tassel on one of her throw pillows. “As if we’d ever sell this place to a developer. Any changes that impact the community at large require a six-sevenths majority vote to move forward. She can’t even sell her unit without our say-so, much less the whole castle.”
That almost sounds… organized. “I thought you didn’t have a bunch of rules and regulations?”
“We have bylaws. It’s just not the sort of thing we spend a lot of time talking about. Life is too short to dwell on the mundane.”
“So… you onlyactlike it’s a freewheeling anarchist’s paradise?”
Her smile is devilish. “The more Bernie asks about committees and boards, the looser and goosier we pretend to be.”
Talk about a long con. Not for the first time, I’m relieved my grandmother is on my side.
“You should probably mention it to Mervyn, though. Don’t you think?”
If I thought I could slip that one past her, no dice. “Are you managing me, Virginia?”
“Moi?” I put a hand to my chest in mock affront. “I mean, yes. I’m trying.”
“Don’t fret. Be young and free.” It’s part admonishment,but maybe also my grandmother’s attempt to not repeat the mistakes she made with my mom. She shoots me a sly look. “Fraternize with your handsome young friend.”
Is that one of those old-fashioned words for hooking up, like “heavy petting” (bleck) or “necking”… which of course makes me think of Felix, as if this conversational turn weren’t embarrassing enough. I try not to look like I’m running away as I hurry to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and maybe put my face under the tap to cool it off.
“I’m going to take a bath,” Grandma Lainey says, blowing me a kiss.
It’s clear that for her, the subject is closed. But I’m not convinced this is anywhere near over.
Are Felix and I a couple of meddling kids, sticking our noses in where they don’t necessarily belong? Maybe. But the bad guys would have gotten away with a lot if it wasn’t for people like us.
At least according toScooby-Doo.
The first thing I see when I reach for my phone the next morning is a string of missed messages from Felix.
The first text arrived at 7:01A.M., a time stamp that tells me he must have decided seven was a reasonable time to text, and then waited another minute to look casual. It’s possible I’m wrong, and I don’t know him as well as I think—like him assuming I’d be awake that early. But I don’t think I am.
Can we talk?
I have thoughts.
