Page 79 of The Love Scam
“It’s how I found her,” Mrs. Tarbell said, giving Rake back Delaney’s card. “She’s a special kind of private investigator—”
“No. I don’t even have a license.” Too much paperwork, too wide a trail. Too many questions she couldn’t answer.
“—and Teresa couldn’t recommend her enough.” And when they both stared at her: “Yes, I know Teresa. One of her little charges tried to steal my purse when I was here last summer. Ohhh, thescoldingshe gave that child! I slipped him fifty euros when she wasn’t looking.”
Delaney smiled, the first real one since the three of them had sat down. “Teresa sees everything, Mrs. Tarbell.”
“Those big beseeching dark eyes, I couldn’t help it.” She stirred her tea more. She hadn’t so much as taken a sip, as far as Delaney could tell. “Though he cheered up quick enough when he had my cash.” Then she glanced over Rake’s shoulder. “And speaking of big dark eyes…”
He turned and saw Elena approaching while leading Lillith by the hand. Who promptly lit up and ran the rest of the way to the table. “Hi, Grandma!”
Rake felt the muscles in his jaw give up as his mouth fell open. “Lillith, you know who this is?”
“Sure! Why, do you need an introduction? This is Nonna Tarbell, my paternal great-grandmother.” She stepped into the nuclear option’s welcoming hug. Then, to Rake: “But I bet you don’t know whothisis.”
“Hey, guys, how’s it goin’?”
“Elena? Why do you sound like you’re from Massachusetts?”
“It’s Ellen, actually. And I’m from Andovuh.*Figured we were lettin’ all the cats outta all the bags, time to drop the accent. Well.Thataccent, anyways.”
“What is happening?” Rake wailed. “Do you all have deep dark secrets and/or multiple identities?”
“Yeah,” Delaney admitted.
“Pretty much.” Elena—sorry, Ellen—shrugged.
“How do you know my grandmother? Lillith, when did you guys meet?”
“Just a few days ago.”
“But it’s onlybeena few… oh, hell. The Fedex office.”
“Well…”
Forty-five
Thank goodness,Lillith thought as she entered the ladies’ room. She liked Delaney, and Rake seemed nice (if deeply confused), but she hated peeing when she knew people could hear it. Even strangers.Side effect of being an only child, maybe?
And speaking of strangers, an old, pretty lady was standing beside the sinks
(not washing her hands, not checking makeup, not on her phone, standing straight, facing the door)
waiting for someone.
She was pale and chubby, with silver-streaked brownish blond hair pulled back and pinned in place. She was wearing light blue pants, a white blouse, black tennis shoes, a black cardigan, and she had a black purse the size of a pillow slung over one shoulder.
When she spoke, her voice was warm and welcoming. “Buongiorno,darling.”
“Ciao, signora,” Lillith replied, smoothing her slightly too-small shirt over her belly and standing straighter. “Come va?”
“Just fine.”
“Posso aiutarti con qualcosa?”
“I’m sorry, dear, but you just heard the extent of my Italian. I’m much better in French.”
“Oh.Puis-je vous aider avec quelque chose?”
