“Do it.” Grace handed her a scone.
“How are you?” Tessa said.
“I’m fine.”
“Mm-hmm. Is he in teddy bear mode or scary in lawyer mode?”
“Full scary lawyer. I would be terrified if I had to go up against him.”
“Excellent. If you have to bring a shark to a problem, you want your shark to be the biggest one in the room.”
Tara Marchand’s shark arrived at ten-twenty.
She was in the back, boxing six dozen sugar cookies for a baby shower, when the bell jingled. She heard men’s dress shoes crossing the shop floor and looked up sharply.
The man wore a tie that didn’t match his shirt, had a manila envelope under his arm, and slouched in an apologetic posture. He met her gaze and she immediately gestured for him to join her in the kitchen.
Thank God Reno had told her what to expect this morning.
As he stepped into the back, she casually moved the brick aside with her foot and closed the door between the shop and kitchen.
She wiped her hands on her apron as she said pleasantly, “I’m Grace O’Donnell. I believe you have something for me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He held out the envelope. He said kindly, “You’ve been served.”
She took it., and he looked at her with pity. She picked up a sugar cookie and held it out to him. “Have a cookie. You look like you could use it.”
He looked startled and took it. “Have a good morning,” he said warmly.
“You, too.”
He left, smiling and munching on the cookie. The two ladies who’d been deciding between the lemon and almond tea cakes didn’t look up. The baby-shower lady walked in, paid for her cookies, and left without registering that anything had happened.
She made a mental note to thank Reno for preparing her for that. As it was, there would be no gossip around town about her being taken to court. At least, not yet.
Grace turned to put the envelope in her bag on its hook by the back door, and Mary was standing in the pantry doorway holding a tray of buns, her face the color of new flour.
The woman blurted, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Mary opened her mouth. Closed it. Set the tray down, pressed a hand to her stomach, and shook her head, twice. “I—I should’ve said something. Should’ve spoken up a while ago. I’m sorry.”
“About your sister?”
Mary nodded.
Grace took a breath and held it and let it out slowly the way her grandmother had taught her to do when she needed to say the next thing right. “Mary. Look at me.”
Mary looked at her.
“We’re going to talk. Today. After we close. We’ll work through it together, all right?”
“All right.”
“And Mary? Whatever you tell me, you’ll still have a job tomorrow and a friend tomorrow. I just need to know what’s been going on.”
Mary nodded harder than she needed to. Then she turned and went back into the pantry, and Grace faintly heard a sob.
