Page 119 of Save Me
“Fair enough.” I guess my groveling made an impact after all.
“I need to get back to people.” He peers up at the house again. “But I think Abbi would rather be with her friends than listening to Shelby Singer describe in excruciating detail the intricacies of herding ducks.”
A bark of laughter escapes me. “I amnotgoing to miss that.”
“Get her back safely, please.”
“Of course.”
With one last glance to his wife, Henry trudges back the way he came.
And I move swiftly for the house, barely able to contain my excitement to share the news with Sloane.
A cringe-inducing caw screeches into the night.
“And get rid of that fucking thing!” Henry’s voice booms in the darkness.
I laugh. “Can’t. Ralph stays. He’s family.”
30.Sloane
The hefty green wing chair is against the window facing out, and all I can see is an elbow and a ball of yellow yarn on the floor beside her.
Hey, Gigi,” I call out as we step into her room.
“Sloane? I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I know, but I got off work early.”
A wrinkled hand reaches out to collect a wad of bills from the table beside her. She waves it in the air. “I won a hundred and fifty bucks off those feckless twats, Larry and Hank. I let them think they’re sharks, butI’mthe real shark.”
Behind me, Ronan chuckles.
“Is that Frank?”
“No, it’s Ronan.”
A pause and then, “Well, don’t just stand there. Help an old girl out. They pushed me in here too close, and now I’m trapped!”
Ronan swiftly rounds me. “Hold on tight.” Seizing the top corners of the headrest, he tips the chair back justenough to swivel it around on its hind legs, earning a whooping sound from Gigi.
“There, that’s better.” She abandons her knitting project and smooths her hands over her pale blue slacks. Someone’s pleated her hair today and secured a small yellow butterfly clip above her left ear. “Now, where were we? Let’s get a good look at you, young man.” Her blue eyes lift to appraise Ronan’s face. “Huh. You are as handsome as in the pictures Sloane showed me.”
“She showed you pictures of me?” Amusement laces his voice.
“Yes, from the Henry Wolf file.”
Ronan’s eyebrows pop as he regards me. “She has aHenry Wolf file?”
“Had. Hush, Gigi.” I dangle the small paper bag of scones in the air before setting it on the small table beside her.
“I think my granddaughter is trying to buy my silence.” Her bony fingers peel open the folded top enough to lean forward and inhale the fresh-baked scent. “It’s working.”
I laugh. “Okay, officially, Gigi, this is Ronan. Ronan, this is Gigi.”
“The Original Sea Witch,” Ronan says, and a wave of déjà vu hits me then, bringing me back to the day he walked into the rental shop.
“Now, just an old witch.” A mischievous spark ignites. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
