Page 32 of Winter
She rolled her eyes. “It’sThe Bugler.What do you expect?” She dropped the paper on the counter without reading the article. Nancy wasn’t letting it go, though.
“The Geisha Murders.Geisha!”’ She followed Inca into the kitchen, huffing to herself.
Inca chuckled. “It’s a rag, Nance; they can’t function without giving something a tagline. And they’ve no more sense or decency than to use a racial stereotype.” She stopped and looked at her mom. “You’re going to stew on this, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
Inca sighed and went to open the front door. Tommaso was waiting there, smiling at her. He kissed her as he stepped in.
“Hey, you. How are you feeling?”
She tried to smile, then shrugged. “Okay. These things happen. Come on in and I’ll get you some coffee.”
He followed her to the counter. Nancy appeared at the door and squinted at him He smiled easily at her.
“Hey, Nancy. How are you?”
“Boy, did you pick the wrong time to ask that,” Inca muttered at Tommaso, who looked alarmed.
“Why—” he started, but then Nancy waved the paper at him.
“Look at this.”
Tommaso took the paper, looking confused. Nancy glared at him. “Don’t you think it’s outrageous?”
“Um …”
“Nancy, leave him alone.” Inca nudged her mother, who huffed.
“If he cares about you, then …”
“Nancy!” Inca was red-faced and Tommaso, poor Tommaso, just looked confused. Nancy stomped out of the room.
Tommaso looked at Inca. “What did I do?”
“Nothing. It’s not you.” Inca waved off his question. “She’s just in a mood. Apparently, the murders now have a nickname that she objects to.” She gave him the newspaper. “Plus, she’s always in a funk.” She raised her voice slightly, grinning at Tommaso. “She’s been in a bad mood for the last seventy years, I think.”
From the backroom, a voice came “I canhearyou.” Nancy poked her head out of the door, ignoring Tommaso. Inca gave Nancy her best cheesy grin. Nancy scowled at her. “We’re out of oolong. I’m going to the market.”
Inca’s grin widened. “Okay …geisha…” she added, and ducked as Nancy fired a dishtowel at her. She disappeared again and Inca turned back to Tommaso. He was reading the paper intently. She left him to it while she poured his coffee and wiped down the tables.
“Hey, oldies. How you doing?” Scarlett scooted into the teahouse with Luna behind her, punching Inca’s arm. “Guess what, Inks?”
Inca rubbed her arm and scowled at her young friend. “What?”
“Luna met someone.”
Inca raised her eyebrows. “You did?” It was a little unlike Luna to announce a new boyfriend. The girl usually sneered at relationships or anything lasting longer than one night. “Tell me more.”
Luna chuckled. “Nope. Not yet, but maybe if I see more of him. He’s hot. English.”
Inca went cold, but shook herself.No way. “So, what’s he look like?”
“Swoony.”
“That isn’t a word.”
“Is too. But, yeah, he looks like a male model.”
