She's Up to No Good(98)

I went to get out of bed, then remembered my clothes were all in the kitchen. “Can I borrow a shirt?”

He tried to suppress a smile as he went to the dresser and grabbed one. “Any objection to the Red Sox?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Yes, but we’ll discuss that one later.”

He tossed me the shirt, and I pulled it on as he slid on a pair of boxers and shorts, then I went to get my phone from the kitchen while he took Jax outside.

There were no missed calls, which wasn’t necessarily a good sign or a bad one.

I pulled up her contact and pressed the icon to call her. There was no answer. I tried again immediately but got the same result. I tried texting her, then called again, panic setting in.

When Joe came back with Jax, I was pulling on my shorts. “How’s Ev . . .” He trailed off, looking at my face. “Let me grab a shirt. I’m coming with you.”

I didn’t argue, handing him the keys to my grandmother’s car. I was too worried to drive.

I shouldn’t have left, I thought as Joe sped across the road parallel to the beach. I glanced at him, grateful that he was with me to help with whatever we might find. I shouldn’t have spent the night.

Joe parked the car at an angle, and we both jumped out as soon as the engine was off and ran up the stairs together. The door was unlocked. “Grandma?” I called loudly from the doorway as we raced through the hall to the kitchen, both of us stopping short and almost falling over each other at what we saw.

My grandmother was in a robe at the table, which was piled high with breakfast. Next to her sat an older man with white hair, wearing an undershirt. He turned to look at us, and I saw the shared nose before anyone spoke.

My mouth dropped open.

“Uncle Tony?” Joe asked, his eyes wide.

“Good morning,” my grandmother said. “I wasn’t expecting you, but there’s enough breakfast if you’re hungry.”

I looked from her robe to his undershirt and back to her face, then held a hand to my mouth.

“Grandma!”

She mirrored my tone. “Jenna!” Then she turned to Tony, who didn’t quite seem to know where to look, and put a hand on his arm. “Darling, I want you to meet my granddaughter, Jenna. Jenna, this is Tony.”

He mumbled something that sounded like Nice to meet you.

I nodded, still too stunned to talk to him. He didn’t have shoes on.

Joe cleared his throat. “Well, this is—”

“Not what we expected,” I finished. “I called you,” I told my grandmother. “We wouldn’t have . . . interrupted . . . if you’d told me you were okay.”

“I must not have heard it,” she said, gazing at Tony.

I almost argued. The stupid thing rang right in her hearing aids through an app, and I knew it. But I also wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, and she was clearly enjoying our discomfort. I caught Joe’s eye and inclined my head toward the door. He nodded.

“Okay, then. We’re gonna go.”

“Have fun.” She still wasn’t looking at us. Joe and I exchanged a look, and we both struggled to keep our composure.

“Um. Bye, then.”

We turned to leave, but she called after us. “Oh, dinner is at seven tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“The four of us—at Sofia’s tonight.”

“I—uh—okay.”

Joe grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door, where we laughed until we had to hold on to each other to keep from falling over.

“What just happened?” I asked.

“I—wow—can they even still—at their age?”

“She was in a robe, and he wasn’t wearing shoes.”

“Holy—”

“Do you think they—” I doubled over, unable to say it.

He held a hand to the side of his face. “Prophylactic,” he gasped.

I collapsed onto the wicker love seat. “This is so gross.”

He nudged me over and sat next to me. “It’s sweet too though.”

I shook my head again. “I just—she told me she was going to bed. And she practically told me to go to you.” I looked over at him again. “Do you think she was getting rid of me so she could—?”

“Aren’t you glad you listened to her? Can you imagine if you’d still been home?”

I made a retching noise, then got serious as I realized something. “Oh no. I have to go back in there.”

“Why?”

“I need clothes and stuff.” I glanced at the door. “Okay. They’re probably still eating. If I run upstairs, grab what I need, and come back down without looking at the kitchen, it’ll be okay, right?”

He glanced over his shoulder through the window screen. “Go fast.”

I kissed his cheek and made a beeline up the stairs. I grabbed my toiletry bag from the bathroom and an armful of clothes from the dresser, hoping I had enough to make an outfit, and hurried back down.

“Let’s go.”





I sat at the kitchen island, sipping a mug of coffee while Joe cooked breakfast, both of us still trying to figure out the scene we had just witnessed.

“My mother always said he’d go running if she crooked her little finger.” He slid a plate of eggs and pancakes in front of me and came to sit on the other barstool with his own plate.