Disorderly Conduct - Rebecca Zanetti Page 0,55

by amusement that lifted the cloud that had been pressing down on me all morning. “Well, that’s one way to get a promotion.” Then I sobered and told her the entire story.

She wiped lipstick off the lid of her cup. “You know, that does sound rather romantic. Those Basanelli boys are known to be good kissers—along with everything else that comes after the kissing. Well, except for the commitment part.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Plus, he’s probably a lot safer than Aiden Devlin, even though he is your boss.” Donna’s voice remained casual, but I could tell she’d been worrying about it.

I drank more of the fragrant brew. “I love you, Donna. Stop worrying.”

Her dark eyebrows rose. “That’s my job. I’m the oldest.”

“Barely. By four years,” I retorted. She was still in her twenties, having been a realtor after taking a couple years off after high school. I still didn’t know the full extent of where she’d traveled. “We’re not kids anymore.”

“No, we are not.” Her eyes twinkled. “Tess told me about your spa appointments.”

I chuckled and leaned toward her. “It still hurts a little. What was I thinking not asking about the type of appointment?” Then I lost my smile as I remembered that Cheryl was dead. As in actually dead. What were the chances her overdose was accidental? Considering Randy had been murdered, not so great. I sighed. “Maybe I should work with Uncle Gino.”

Donna shrugged. “That’s up to you, but don’t let fear keep you from doing what you want.” She eyed her delicate watch and stood. “I have to go. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I forced a smile.

“Good, because mom said to tell you that you have another appointment with cousin Wanda the shrink tomorrow at four.” With that great news and a big smile, Donna stood and all but ran off before I could argue.

I sighed. My phone buzzed and I lifted it to my ear. “Anna Albertini.”

“Hi, sweet girl.” My dad’s voice boomed through the line, echoing off walls. “It’s Wednesday.”

I grinned. “Yeah, I know.” My dad always started work late in the silver mine once a week and took the time to call all three of his girls, even though he’d more than likely just seen us at Sunday barbecue. “I’m at work and Donna was just here. She brought me a latte.”

“Good. There’s a new study out that coffee increases life expectancy,” he boomed, no doubt having been told that by my mother.

“That’s good to know,” I said. “Did you get the core results on the new samples back yet?”

“Nope, but I’m telling you, it’s a good vein,” he said. “A real good vein. Silver is back.”

My dad was the best at what he did. He didn’t have a geology degree, but he saw veins where nobody else did, which was why he’d been the mine foreman for about forever. Plus, he was really good with people. “I’m sure it’s a good vein,” I said, meaning every word.

“Yep. Also, I’ll get your mail from the PO Box today and will call you tonight with what I find. I might just come over and take you to dinner.”

I stared at the now empty coffee cup. My dad had taken over my Silverville post office box for a week in June and in December since Jareth Davey had started sending me cards. I’d kept the box through the years, changing it once, but Davey had found the new box number, anyway. Plus, Silverville was so small, you could just write a person’s name on it without a box, and it’d end up in the right box. “I can do it,” I said.

“No need. The sheriff and I have it down,” my dad said, his voice unrelenting.

Truth be told, I didn’t want to see the card from Davey. I hadn’t actually held or seen one for years. They went from my dad, wearing gloves, to the sheriff, also wearing gloves. Every year they fingerprinted the cards and envelopes, and every year didn’t find Jareth Davey’s prints. But still. There wasn’t much else to do. “Okay, Dad. Just let me know that a card arrived.” Maybe this would be the year Jareth moved on. One could always hope.

“No problem. All right. Gotta call Tessa. Is she still dating that moron from the bank?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” I murmured. “I think they only went to one dinner, anyway. She said he was boring.”

“Good. You’re all too young to settle down. Bye, sweetheart.”

My mood lifted again. My dad wanted us

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