Bailed Out (The Anna Albertini Files #2) - Rebecca Zanetti Page 0,59
steaks if it doesn’t get too hot, would you?” Whenever a food truck turned over near Silverville, the locals all rushed out for the food before it could go bad, and the truck drivers were on board with it because wasted food was bad for everyone. Last year a whole truck of prized lobsters turned over, and we ate like kings for a week.
I slid into a spot at the curb of a building holding different businesses in the middle of Main Street. Cousin Wanda Versaccio’s psychology practice was on the third floor. She was my fourth cousin twice removed, or something like that, but a shrink in the family was a shrink in the family. I saw her whenever I got too stressed out or worried about life, and especially about Jareth Davey.
After parking, I jogged up the stairs to the third floor. At the end of the hallway, a frosted glass window in her worn oak door allowed light to come from her office. I quietly opened the door to a freshly painted waiting area adjacent to a new wall that had been put in just a week before to separate the reception area and Wanda’s office, which right now had the door closed.
I took a seat on a new chair with pillows covered with pink flamingos and reached for the nearest magazine to leaf through.
The door opened when I was halfway through a quiz on whether or not the hot guy in my life was a keeper or not. Maybe it was better not knowing. “Hi.”
Pauley walked out, today wearing pressed jeans and a blue golf shirt. “Hi.” He appeared relaxed, so obviously he’d been given a heads up that I was coming. “Salmon all over the road.” He shivered.
That was a good point. “No kidding.” I stood.
Wanda moved behind Pauley and perched her glasses on her nose. Her black hair was up in a messy bun, and she’d chewed half of her lipstick off. She was in her mid-thirties but looked younger. “Tell your Grandma Albertini to stop trying to set me up with single women. I just got divorced, and the last thing I want is to start dating anybody, especially a pilot. I don’t like flying.”
I took a step back. While I liked Wanda, I wasn’t getting between Nonna and romance. “Sorry. We don’t have a pilot in the family. You’re on your own, Wanda.”
Pauley strode toward the exit, already several inches taller than me even though he was only sixteen. His brown hair was perfectly cut. Where he got the darker hair, considering his mom and sister were blondes and his dad a redhead, we’d never known. Kind of like me.
“I will see you next Thursday at ten a.m., Cousin Wanda. Ten a.m. Yes. Ten a.m.” He walked out into the hallway.
I hurried after him, keeping somewhat of a distance to give him space. I often needed it after pouring my guts out to the shrink, so he probably did, too.
We reached the sidewalk, and he paced toward my car.
I stepped up to his side. “Do you mind going with me?” It seemed that sometimes people forgot to ask Pauley what he liked, so I always made the effort. Maybe being the youngest kid came in handy that way for me.
“No.” He opened the door and slid onto the seat. “I am hungry.” He looked straight ahead, his dark brown eyes staring out the window.
I walked around to the driver’s side and sat, starting the car. “What sounds good, P?” I drove away from the curb.
“Lil Bear,” he said, drumming his fingers on his pants in a familiar three times, two times, three times set of taps. “I would like a cheeseburger with ketchup, pickles, and tomatoes. No onions or mustard or mayonnaise.”
“Okay.” I knew how Pauley liked his burgers but let him set things right in his head, anyway. We made it through the drive-through and back to my cottage without any more discussion, and then we ate contentedly on the outside deck watching the action on the lake.
Finally, Pauley finished his fries, which he did not like with ketchup. “I saw the picture of you in the paper.”
I sucked down my vanilla shake. “Yeah? I didn’t know the photographer was there.”
“You are dating Aiden again.” Pauley neatly folded the paper that had covered his burger into perfect squares.
“Yes. I like him.” I crumpled up my paper and tossed it into the takeout bag. “I hope he’s not a criminal.”