She tapped the card of Ursula Stanislaus, wife of Dmitri, the HR employee who’d been in Marlene’s apartment. She had a red star. “Her husband sells used cars. I think I’ll pay him a visit.”
Both Loretta and Reuben stopped to stare.
“Are you going with me to have my hair cut?” Apparently understanding Evie wouldn’t be available all day, Loretta was the first to break the silence.
“Give me the time and place, and I’ll work it into my schedule.” Evie waved a hand airily.
Rather than argue, Reuben started typing into his phone. Evie knew what that meant. He was notifying Jax. A girl couldn’t do anything around here without an army noticing. She didn’t mind. An army couldn’t stop her once she made up her mind. It was the making up her mind part that was iffy.
“Four o’clock, at some place in Savannah. I’ll email the address.” Loretta dug out her phone.
“Perfect. The car dealership is there too. Maybe I’ll have a Miata to pick you up in.” First, of course, she needed a ride. She couldn’t ask Reuben for one. He was better occupied here.
It was Thursday. Iddy would be working. Her sister Gracie had a kid to look after. Pris... Who knew what she did. But she’d owe her once she got City Hall lined up. Evie punched in her spooky cousin’s number and got voice mail as she climbed out of the cellar. She left a message, then started scrolling through her contacts. She’d only bought the phone a few months ago. Since she usually saw everyone in town every day, she seldom needed to call anyone. Her list wasn’t long.
Jax must have been busy because he wasn’t texting screams.
How much would an Uber cost? Did Afterthought have anyone driving for Uber? She began poking around to find out.
Not until she walked down the drive to the front of the house did she realize someone was knocking at her door. Not just any someone but one who could have stepped right off the cover of a romance novel.Wow. Jax was good-looking and hunky in his muscular military lawyer way. This guy... was romance sexy. Towering lean, longish dark hair, Euro-stylish in linen and polished leather, hand in pocket as he frowned at her purple door adorned with whatever amulet Mavis had thought necessary today.
Retrieving her tongue from the roof of her mouth, she called, “May I help you?”
He turned long-lashed dark eyes in her direction and looking relieved, jogged down from the porch to meet her on the lawn. “I’m looking for Damon Ives-Jackson. This was given as his last known address?”
“You know that makes you sound like a bill collector, don’t you?” Actually, his accent was too delicious to sound anything other than sophisticated. Italian? With a faint Scottish burr? Was that even possible? Evie did her best to slip into aura mode while he found a counter answer to her challenge.
His aura had the orange-yellowish streak peculiar to Jax when he wasn’t riled... and Conan Oswin, one of his California relations. She was almost prepared when the stranger replied.
“Sorry.” He produced a business card. “I’m Dante Alfonso Ives Rossi. Damon and I have a common ancestor with the Oswins, cousins of his?”
“So they claim. I’m not the ancestry expert. How may I help you, Mr. Rossi?” Evie was torn between summoning her cousins to admire this specimen of male resplendence or warning Jax to hide.
But there didn’t seem to be any harm in the stranger’s aura, so she stupidly stared and waited.
He shrugged a little uncomfortably in his linen jacket. “It is a long story. If you could simply give me a means to contact him?”
Cellphone already in hand, Evie snapped his photo and sent it to Jax with the message—anyone you know?
“Won’t you take a seat on the porch and have some iced tea while we wait to see if he’s available?” She gestured toward the shady wrap-around covered porch that gave the Victorian its charm.
Since she hadn’t introduced herself, he looked a bit wary. As he ought to be. She could hear Pris’s truck puttering down the road already. Her cousin and her mother would have picked up the stranger’s presence and sent an all-points bulletin to all the family. They were weird like that.
“Help yourself to any seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” Evie hurried through the cluttered front room to her great-aunt’s eccentrically colorful kitchen. She kept pitchers of tea on hand. A quick glance in the freezer found brownies. She zapped them while gathering a tray of glasses and ice.
By the time she returned to the porch, Pris was leaning against her truck, Iddy had her raven on her shoulder and a leash full of dogs heading this way, Reuben had moseyed out to take a gander, and Jax was pulling up on his Harley. Even her sister Gracie was strolling down the walk with six-year-old Aster in tow. Poor Mr. Rossi wouldn’t know what hit him.
She set the tray down on the table nearest the wicker chair he’d chosen. “Have you ever lived in a small town, Mr. Rossi?”
“I spent most of my school years in Edinburgh and Napoli, so no, unless one counts the archeological sites I work on. They barely count as towns, though.” He sipped the icy tea and watched Pris watching back.
“Well, you’re about to have a small-town experience—” With a dollop of Malcolm weirdness, but Evie didn’t mention that. “—so settle in and make yourself comfortable.” She took a chair on the other side of the table and poured tea for herself.
Jax strolled up, looking casual with his tie loose and lacking his suit coat. The resemblance was quite uncanny between the two men—square, stubborn jaws, dark eyes, large Roman noses... Yeah, Evie would buy the family ties. They both had a sun-bronzed coloring that she was pretty certain was natural and not the product of a tanning bed.
“Did you get my message or are you just coming to stop me from going to Savannah by myself?” she called cheerfully.
Jax pulled out his phone to check his messages, proving he was responding to Reuben’s warning about the used car dealer and hadn’t seen hers yet. He snorted at the image she’d sent and cut across the lawn to climb the stairs. He held out his hand to the stranger. “I’m Damon Jackson; call me Jax. Dante Rossi? Conan said you’ve been corresponding.” He poured himself a glass of tea.