Nine Lives (Lily Dale Mystery #1)(78)

Still, however, eager to escape, she says, “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Pandora, but we’d better get going.”

Max looks at the helmet she holds out to him. “Don’t we have to finish our ice cream first?”

“Of course you must,” Pandora tells him. “One cannot eat ice cream in a helmet, much less ride a scooter.”

She’s right, of course. Max can barely maneuver the scooter without an ice cream cone in his hand.

Bella reluctantly accepts Pandora’s invitation to sit on her porch swing for a few minutes.

“The lads can explore the garden,” she says.

“But stay where I can see you,” Bella cautions them as they head across the lawn. “And don’t trample anything!”

“No worries. I’m sure they’ll be very careful.” Yet Pandora, too, keeps a watchful eye on Max and Jiffy as they poke around the yard speculating about buried treasure.

Meanwhile, Pandora herself pokes around Bella’s business and speculates about everything from her love life to her future plans.

“I heard Grant Everard is back in town,” she says, after prying into whether Bella has dated anyone since losing her husband and whether she’s reconsidering staying in Lily Dale after all—for the summer or permanently.

The answer to both questions is a decided no, of course. As for Grant . . .

Pandora didn’t ask a question, but Bella decides it’s her turn to pose one. “Do you know him?”

“We’ve met a few times. Rather handsome bloke, isn’t he?”

Ignoring that, Bella asks Pandora how she knew Grant is here. “Have you seen him?”

“I haven’t, but someone mentioned that he was here.”

“Who was it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says off-handedly. “Maybe Roxi, the girl who works the gate. Does it matter?”

It does if she heard it from someone who would recognize Grant on sight. That would confirm that the man who checked into the guesthouse is, indeed, Leona’s vagabond so-called nephew.

Hearing sirens in the distance, she automatically glances over at Max. He’s fine, of course, still holding the cone in one hand and a stick in the other, using it to gently prod into a clump of pachysandra.

Jiffy, too, is accounted for.

But the sirens are a reminder that somewhere, someone is in trouble.

“We really should go,” she tells Pandora, looking at her watch. “Boys? Come on. Finish up!”

“There’s no need to hurry, love.”

“There is. I have something I need to do in a few minutes.”

“Oh? What is it?”

Something in Pandora’s tone bothers Bella. For one thing, she’s tired of the questions. For another, she can’t help but wonder if Pandora already knows about the kittens and the feedings. She seems to know everything else about Bella’s life, past and present.

Is she a harmless snoop or a dangerous one?

The sirens aren’t fading. They’re coming closer, making her tense.

“Boys!” She stands abruptly. “Let’s go.”

“Coming!” Max calls.

Pandora, too, is on her feet. “I’ll walk you home. I was about to take a stroll anyway.”

“Oh, it’s . . . it wouldn’t really be a stroll, with the kids and the scooters.”

“I don’t mind. I rather want to ensure that you get there safely.”

Halfway down the porch steps, Bella turns back. “I’m sure we’ll be safe,” she says with a nervous little laugh. “I mean, why wouldn’t we be?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” Pandora offers what she surely intends to be a reassuring smile.

But there seems to be something more to it—a sharpness, or maybe an awareness, in her eyes.

Maybe she’s picking up on Bella’s anxiety. She probably wouldn’t have to be psychic to do that.

But she is—supposedly—psychic. Maybe she does know something.

“Mom, look! This will cheer you up!”

“Hmm?”

“Remember this morning when you were sad? Here. This will cheer you up.”

She turns to see Max holding out a flower. It has a long, slender stem topped by a well-spaced row of deep-blue, ruffle-tipped petals shaped like miniature upside-down lilies.

“Where did you get that?” Pandora asks, behind her.

“Over there.” Max points to the pachysandra.

“I’m so sorry,” Bella tells Pandora. “Max, I told you not to disturb Ms. Feeney’s garden.”

“You said not to trample. I didn’t trample. I picked. Right, Jiffy?”

“Right.”

“Max, may I see it, please?” Pandora is beside Bella, holding out her hand.

“It’s for my mom.”

“Max!”

He hands it over to Pandora, who doesn’t even have the grace to smile.

Bella bristles. Yes, Max was wrong to pick the flower. But Pandora is the one who invited him to explore the yard. If it weren’t for her meddlesome attitude, they wouldn’t be here in the first place.

“Max, please apologize,” she says. “Pandora, I’ll replace the plant if you’ll just tell me what it is. I’m going to the store this afternoon.”