The three women physically recoiled at the mention of his name. He was still capable of ruining their lives. Not only capable, but willing. Edie was so unnerved by the possibility that she couldn’t help but glance apprehensively over her shoulder. She wouldn’t put it past him to spring up and surprise them. “Why are you even here?”
“We want to do it one more time,” Frances said.
“Do what?” Edie asked, confused.
“A job.”
She couldn’t have possibly heard that right. Because there was no planet on which these three women, who had just barely escaped getting caught over forty years ago when they were young and had nothing to lose, could think it was a good idea to go again. “Awhat?”
Frances looked nervously at Joan and Irene. “You know. A heist.”
Edie gaped at Frances. She had so many questions, but the most burning was the obvious one. “Is it dementia? Is dementia contagious? Because I think the three of you have shit for brains. Okay, that’s it. Get out. Come on, out.”
“Don’t have to ask me again,” Irene said, and marched past Edie, as if she was the injured party. Joan slinked after her. “You could lead with love, you know.”
“Love?” Edie echoed, disbelieving.
Frances was the last to go, turning her puppy dog eyes on Edie. “It’s really good to see you,” she said as Edie marched her to the door behind Joan and Irene.
“Stop that,” Edie commanded.
“Are you really so mad?” Frances asked, trying to peer at her face. “It seems an outsized reaction.”
Edie laughed maniacally. She opened the door and pushed them out. “Go,” she said again, then slammed the door shut, put her back to it, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
They didn’t leave fast enough; she could hear them outside, talking over each other. She pushed away from the door and ran to the front window. She watched them climb into an old Cadillac. The same Cadillac that was puttering along in the rain. My God, they were being obvious. “Stupid. So stupid,” she muttered.
“Nana?”
Edie hadn’t heard Marcy at all and jumped a foot in the air. She pressed a hand to her wildly beating heart. “You startled me.”
Marcy was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding the empty tray. “Who were they?”
“No one—”
“They weren’t no one, Nana. You’re acting too weird. And they said they were your friends from a long time ago.”
“Well, they’re not my friends now.”
“Why are you so angry? You’re even madder than you were when skinny jeans came back in style.”
Edie snorted. “I’m not mad at all.” Nope—she was livid.
Marcy walked across the room and peered out the window as the Cadillac rumbled away. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s just as well, because you don’t need to.” She took the tray from Marcy and walked into the kitchen.
Marcy followed her. She slid onto a barstool and watched Edie get tequila out of the fridge and pour a shot. Edie eyed her. “You want a shot?”
Marcy’s brows rose. She looked at the bottle. Then at Edie. “Why not?”
Good girl.There were moments in life that just begged to be chased by a shot of tequila.
Edie poured another shot and slid it to her granddaughter.She pictured Joan, Irene, and Frances standing where Marcy was sitting now. They’d been even younger than Marcy when they’d started their gang. God, what babies they’d been. She could picture them, healthy and young, orphans of the world, convinced no one could touch them.
She wondered about Frances. Was she using a weight loss drug? Everyone was now. But she looked a little gaunt and someone should tell her to stop. And Joan! Edie almost smiled. What was with the Lady Godiva hair? But Joan looked as fit and muscular as she ever had. Then there was Irene, who didn’t look as if she’d aged at all. She’d kept her hair ink black, and her skin was smooth. If she had a secret, Edie would guess it was dark magic. She wouldn’t put anything past Irene.
Oh, but she had questions. So many questions.
