Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers #5) - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,13
in the same room with you.”
She almost couldn’t believe she was hearing this. Almost. Except, deep inside—maybe not so terribly deep—she wanted to roll up in a corner and beg the woman to share every little detail.
Declan had been affected, too? Had he suffered for weeks afterward like she had? They belonged together?
“He’s such a wonderful man,” Yiayia crooned.
No kidding.
“He’s so handsome and the captain of the fire department, and everyone looks up to him so. He’s set in his single ways, is all, but then Darcy Kilcannon happened to mention that she heard you were in town—”
“Agnes? Evie?” Finnie called. “Where did you girls go?”
“Oh my God!” Yiayia shot up, low-grade panic on her face that was instantly reflected on little Gala’s expression. “Please don’t tell her I told you. Please. Go along with her stupid plan.”
“What plan?”
“Shhh! She’s coming.”
“Agnes?”
“In here, Finola.” Her voice was reed-thin with nerves. “Chatting with this lovely lady.”
Evie stood on shaky legs when Gramma Finnie came into the museum room, looking sweet and innocent and like she’d never made a “stupid” plan in her life.
Maybe it was the way Gala panted like she sensed Yiayia’s stress, but something stopped Evie from asking a single question.
Maybe it was the red-tipped hand that closed over her wrist and squeezed. “So nice to talk to you, Evie,” Yiayia said through gritted teeth. “What a fascinating history this room has.”
Or maybe it was a bone-deep desire to let Gramma Finnie’s plan…work.
She shot one quick look to Yiayia, long enough to silently communicate that, for whatever reason, her secret was safe.
Only then did those fingers relax.
“And, Agnes, did you, uh, get a good look around?” Gramma Finnie asked pointedly.
“Oh yes. We can leave now.” She scooted her bag up on her shoulder and tugged the leashes. “Let’s go, you two.”
“I hate to visit and run, but we must get the dogs out.” Gramma Finnie was almost to the door already. “So nice to see you, lass. And your dear sweet grandfather.”
Yiayia beamed at her. “Such a beautiful woman you are, Evie. Inside and out. I can see why…” She caught herself. “Why Finnie wanted me to meet you.”
Except Finnie had said she thought a nurse would be here.
“Goodbye, then.” Gramma Finnie took Yiayia’s other hand. “We’d best be going.”
In what felt like an extremely rushed exit, the two women slipped out the front door and toddled down the drive like the two dogs between them.
The Dogmothers? Matchmakers?
The minute the car pulled away, she headed back into the museum room to try to figure out their…plan. But nothing appeared to have changed in this room. Then Granddaddy’s bell rang furiously, which usually meant he needed something right away.
She headed toward the stairs, taking them two at a time, then down the hall to his room, surprised to find him standing by the window seat. “You okay, Granddaddy?”
“Oh yes. I’m wonderful. Elated. Never felt better.” He turned, his color high for the first time in days. “Finnie and I had the most fascinating conversation.”
“That’s great. She certainly seems to have lifted your spirits.”
“She did indeed.”
“No more talk of a celebration of life?”
“Pffft! Too much to live for, Evangeline.” He waved a hand, his eyes no longer faded with clouds but sparkling with unexpected vigor. “I’ll take that tea now, if it’s not too much bother. Iced, please. And maybe something to eat?”
“Of course.” She eyed him carefully. “You are feeling better, Granddaddy.”
He gave a smile. “Oh, you know what the Irish say. ‘With hope, anything is possible.’”
Since when did he quote Irish proverbs? Since Finola Kilcannon came over with a stupid plan. But she could still hear the Greek grandmother’s voice.
You belong together.
Oh, sweet ladies and dear old gent. Hate to break it to you, but that ship sailed long ago…and sank.
Chapter Four
Declan pushed away from his desk three hours after his shift ended, the mountain of paperwork finally conquered. But then his phone dinged with a text, and he almost didn’t want to look at it. Probably another reminder from Chief Winkler that staff evaluations and schedules were due on Monday.
It was a test, of course. How far could Mahoney be pushed to prove what a great chief he’d be?
Far, Winkler. Push me right into the chief’s office, where I belong.
He picked up the phone, but the text was from his grandmother—who rarely resorted to texting to get her messages across—asking him to bring raspberry croissants to Waterford Farm for the Sunday dinner dessert. Seriously? No one else in the