Page 90 of The Cupid Chronicles

Roberta doesn’t miss a beat. “So, there I am, washing away, when I see a woman wandering around the building, holding onto a little girl’s hand like they don’t know where they’re going. Of course I couldn’t get a good look from my window, so I dried my hands quick, bagged up the garbage, and started for the dumpster, mostly because I didn’t want to, you know, make it obvious I was spying.”

“No good spy makes it obvious,” Rhonda interjects, dryly.

“Right.” Roberta pats her on the arm, and Matteo, who’s presumably already heard this story, must see this as an opening to speed her along.

“Tell Iris the part about how Joy lives here now with her daughter because she’s?—”

“Divorced.” Roberta whispers this, sounding likedi-vawced, like it’s something we don’t say out loud.

“Getting divorced,” Matteo finishes his thought, with a nod toward me. “She’s going through a divorce.”

“Temporarily here,” Rhonda says, clearly clued in on the gossip. “Not sure her husband is going to come through on the alimony, and she hasn’t worked since she had her daughter.”

“So. She needs a job,” I say, with a glance toward Matteo.

“And some hope,” Rhonda says. “You wouldn’t believe how sad she is all the time. And that little girl.” Rhonda presses a palm to her chest and shakes her head. “Bless her sweet little heart. Oh, but you probably know her, Iris. She goes to your school.”

And that’s when I put the dots together. “Wait. Is her daughter’s name Alice?”

“Bingo,” Roberta says, pointing at me. “Joy moved in here so Alice didn’t have to change schools.”

My mind spins back to the day I met them in the hallway,coming in late. Joy mentioned there was “a lot going on at home.” No wonder Alice has been so sad.

“She’s been out job hunting,” Roberta continues, “but not getting anywhere, and at night, she comes down here and plays that guitar. You might’ve heard her.”

I shake my head. “I haven’t.”

“She’s wicked good,” Roberta says.

“Can’t make money that way, though.” Rhonda shakes her head, like she’s got proof to back up this opinion.

“Right,” I say. And then, I get an idea. I give a quick nod to Matteo, then back to the sisters. “Thanks, ladies. It was so nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Iris Ellington of Apartment 3D.”

“How do you . . .?”

Roberta grins. “I knoweverything.”

I take a few steps back, slow-nodding and grabbing on to Matteo’s arm. As we turn to go, I hear Rhonda say, “I’m glad he’s back on the horse, even if she’s not at all who I pictured him with.”

“The important thing here is that he’s dating again,” Roberta says. “After what he’s been through, that’s all that matters.”

“Small miracles,” Rhonda says.

I turn back, wondering if they realize we can hear them. They wave at me, smiling in unison, seemingly oblivious to how loud they are.

I glance at Matteo, who has picked up the pace and is darting out of the courtyard, clearly uncomfortable, and a thought occurs to me.

If Roberta and her sister know things about me, then they know things about him too.

“So. Confidential cannoli informants,” I say as we walk toward one of the doors that leads back inside.

“Whatever works.” He shrugs. “They’re out there everySunday morning like clockwork. Lots of weekdays, too. More often in the summer.”

I nod like this is key information I need to know.

“She wasn’t lying. They really do know everything,” he says.

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