Nash flashed her one of his stupid charming grins. “You can count on me.”
“Kiss-ass,” I coughed into my fist.
Waylay snickered.
“I’ll be right back,” Naomi promised Waylay. “Chief Morgan is in charge.”
The kid looked confused. I guessed no one had ever bothered to tell her they were leaving, let alone when they’d be back.
Naomi straightened her shoulders and followed my grandmother out of the room, that damn dress floating around her like she was some kind of fairy tale princess about to face a dragon.
EIGHT
THE MYSTERIOUS LIZA J
Naomi
Unsure how I felt leaving Waylay in a room with two grown men who had been grappling in the road mere minutes earlier, I reluctantly followed Liza into a dark dining room.
The wallpaper was a deep green in a pattern I couldn’t quite make out. The furniture was heavy and rustic. The wide plank table stretched on for nearly twelve feet and was buried under boxes and stacks of papers. Instead of chafing dishes or family photos, the walnut buffet was stacked high with bottles of wine and liquor. Bar glasses were crammed into a nearby hutch so full the doors didn’t close.
I itched to dig into the mess.
The only light in the room came from the far wall where an arched opening led into what looked like a sun porch with floor-to-ceiling glass that needed a good scrubbing.
“You have a beautiful home,” I ventured, gently shifting a half-dozen china plates stacked precariously on the corner of the table. From what I’d seen so far, the house had buckets of potential. It was just buried under dusty drapes and piles of stuff.
Liza straightened from the buffet, a bottle of wine in each hand. She was short and soft on the outside, like anyone’s favorite grandma. But Liza greeted her grandsons with chores and gruffness.
I was curious what was said about the Morgans that family relationships didn’t make it into introductions. If anyone had a right to avoid claiming their family in this town, it was me.
“Used to run it as a small lodge,” she began, setting the bottles on top of the buffet. “Don’t anymore. Guess you’ll be wanting to stay for a while.”
Okay, not big on small talk. Got it.
I nodded. “It’s a lovely cottage. But I understand if it’s an inconvenience. I’m sure I could come up with an alternative soon.” That wasn’t exactly a truth so much as a hope. The woman before me was my best chance of creating a little stability in the short term for my niece.
Liza swiped a cloth napkin over the dust on the wine label. “Don’t bother. It was just sittin’ there, goin’ unused.”
Her accent ventured a little farther south than the Mid-Atlantic tone of Northern Virginia.
I prayed that there was a dash of Southern hospitality mixed in there somewhere.
“That’s very kind of you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss the rent and security deposit.”
She shoved the first bottle at me. “Opener’s in the drawer.”
I opened the top drawer of the buffet and found a tangle of napkin rings, coasters, candlesticks, matches, and finally a corkscrew.
I went to work on the cork. “As I was saying, money’s a little bit tight.”
“That’s what happens when you got yourself a sister who steals from you and a new mouth to feed,” Liza said, arms crossed.
Knox or Nash had a very big mouth.
I said nothing and popped the cork free.
“Guessin’ you’ll need work too,” she predicted. “Unless you work from home or something.”