Mr. P. shook his head. “I can’t imagine someone changing windows just because they didn’t like the look of the mullions.”
Liam rolled his eyes the way he’d done when he’d originally told me the story of a former client who had decided to replace the windows in two rooms on the back of his house because he didn’t like the way the small panes of glass “chopped up the view.” The client had told Liam to do whatever he wanted with the almost-new windows that had been replaced. There were just enough of them for the sunporch space and since they were otherwise destined for the landfill I felt good about giving them a second life.
“The guy gets his view and we get windows that don’t let the wind blow through in January,” I said.
“A win-win,” Mr. P. said, nodding approvingly.
Liam gestured in my direction. “I forgot to tell you that since Mac is still in Boston, Nick offered to give me a hand.”
Nick was one of Liam’s closest friends, although technically I’d known Nick longer. I still wasn’t sure exactly what we were to each other. Rose had done everything but lock the two of us in a closet together to try and generate something romantic between the two of us but it hadn’t taken. “That’s nice of him,” I said.
“Yeah, Nick’s a nice guy,” Liam agreed. The gleam in his eyes told me he was trying to get a rise out of me. More than once he’d suggested I “lay a big wet one” on Nick and see where it led.
I turned to Mr. P. deciding my best play here was a change of subject. “Rose said you were doing a workshop at the library. How did it go?”
“Very well,” he said, nudging his glasses up his nose. “They were a surprisingly savvy group. Most seniors are not as gullible as people your age seem to think.”
I smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Rosie sent me a text,” he continued. “It seems we have a new case.”
Liam looked at me, one eyebrow raised. He didn’t say anything.
“We do,” I said.
“Then I should get inside and get briefed,” Mr. P. said. He turned his attention back to Liam. “I’m available to help you and Nicolas with the sunporch. After all, it is going to be our office.”
Liam pulled a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ll let you know what the plan is as soon as I talk to Nick.”
Mr. P. nodded, hiked his pants that were almost at his armpits a little higher, and headed for the back door.
I leaned against the side of the trailer. Liam bumped me with his shoulder. “You have a case?”
“No,” I said. “The Angels have a case.”
“Same thing, Sarah,” he said, sizing me up with an amused expression.
I was already shaking my head. “No it’s not. I’m not in the private investigating business. I mostly just drive them places.”
He laughed at the face I was making. “Okay. We’ll go with that. So what’s the case? Is it the girl who came to see Charlotte?”
I nodded. “Uh-huh. One of her students. Her father is in prison. It’s possible he shouldn’t be.”
Liam was still grinning. “You know how Nick is going to take this, don’t you?”
“He’s trying to be more flexible about Rose and his mother and . . . everything.”
He laughed again. “I hope you’re right.” He pulled out his phone and checked the time. “I need to go get cleaned up. I have a meeting later.”
I raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Work or personal?”
“None of your business,” he retorted.
“So personal,” I said.
He made a face.
I laid my head on his shoulder. “Thank you for all your help today.”
“No problem,” he said, “but you know that if Mac doesn’t come back soon you’re going to have to hire someone. I’ll help you anytime I can but I’m not going to be here forever.”
“Mac’s coming back.” It was what I said to everyone who broached the idea of me hiring a replacement.
Liam planted a kiss on the top of my head but said nothing.
I pushed away from the side of the trailer and straightened up. “Hey, do me a favor,” I said. “Don’t say anything to Nick about this new case.”
He gave a snort of laughter. “Don’t worry. There’s not a chance I’m going to be the bearer of that news!”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.
He nodded.
He started for his truck and I headed for the garage.
• • •
That evening Elvis and I had supper with Gram and her husband, John. It was the fifth time I’d been invited since they’d gotten home a month earlier. I wasn’t sure if the invitations were coming because Gram had missed me or if she was worried about what I’d come up with for supper if I were left to my own devices.
Cooking had been a difficult skill for me to master. I hadn’t managed to learn anything in the Family Living classes at school, although in my defense after the second fire I was sent to study hall instead. My mom and Gram hadn’t had any success, either. In the end it had been Rose, with some assistance from Charlotte, who had taught me basic cooking skills and was helping to expand my repertoire. I wasn’t sure if it was just because of her skill as a teacher that Rose had succeeded where everyone else had failed. Or if it was because of her patience—or maybe stubbornness was a better word.
The second-floor apartment smelled like garlic, spices and tomatoes. I knew what that meant. “My favorite, beef stew!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around Gram when she opened the door. Elvis slipped past her legs.
“I thought you’d like it,” she said with a smile.
“You spoil me,” I said.
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “What’s the point of having grandchildren if you don’t spoil them a little?”
Isabel Grayson Scott was maybe an inch or so taller than my five foot six inches, depending on whether she was wearing heels or flats. Strong and solid, she had piercing blue eyes behind red-framed glasses. She wore her wavy white hair cropped short, which showed off her gorgeous high cheekbones. My father had been her only child, which meant that technically I was her only grandchild, but when Mom and Dad had gotten married Gram had welcomed both Peter and Liam. “There’s no such thing as too many people to love,” she’d told me once.
Gram made her way back to the stove and I turned to get a hug from John. John Scott could have been actor Gary Oldman’s older brother. He had the same brown hair, streaked with gray waving back from his face, and the same intriguing gleam in his eyes. There were thirteen years between him and Gram, which had raised some eyebrows when they began seeing each other, but Gram didn’t seem anywhere near her seventy-four years and she didn’t care what other people thought.
The two of them had gone on an extended road trip slash honeymoon, living in a small camper van and working on low-income housing projects up and down the East Coast, including a little time in eastern Canada. I was so glad to have them home.
“How did you make out at the storage unit?” John asked.
I took a seat at the table. The layout of the apartment was similar to the layout of Rose’s at the back. There was plenty of room for a large table in the kitchen.
“You’re not going to believe what we found,” I said.
Gram smiled at me over her shoulder. “Well, since you’re here at my table I’m guessing it wasn’t a map to the Lost Dutchman’s gold mine.”
“Not even close.” Elvis had come back from his prowl around the apartment and now he settled himself at my feet. “We found a casket.”
“Unoccupied, I hope,” John said with a smile.
“Thankfully,” I said. “It was full of boxes of tea, for the most part.”
“Tea?” Gram frowned. “Was it any good?”
“The expiry date on the boxes is months away. Rose made a pot this afternoon. It seemed good to me and she was happy.” Rose had made an actual sigh of contentment after her first sip.
I reached down and settled Elvis on my lap. He craned his neck in the direction of the kitchen so he could watch Gram. Elvis liked her beef stew as well. “It was Red Rose tea. Canadian Red Rose,” I said.