Deidre slung a huge hand-painted hobo bag over one shoulder and jangled her keys. “Well, I’m off! If I’m not back before you turn in tonight, Griff dahling, make sure the front door is locked, won’t you?” She bussed Bianca’s cheek. “Don’t forget to have your mom call me!”
Then she raced out the door with a dramatic flap of her satiny black cape.
A second, perhaps two, ticked by before Griff said, “She sure knows how to make an exit, doesn’t she?”
“The same can be said about her entrances.”
“What is she...sixty-five? Seventy?”
“She’ll be seventy-six on her next birthday.”
“The way she moves?” Griff shook his head. “That’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”
Bianca nodded, then shouldered her purse. Griff seemed pleasant enough, but she had no desire to discuss the lady of the manor—or anything else, for that matter—with this near stranger.
“Well, I’d better go,” she said. “It was nice meeting you.” She moved toward the door, but Griff got there first.
“Same here,” he said, opening it. “When you see Logan, tell him I said hey....”
He didn’t know it, but he’d just provided the perfect opening for her to call Logan and ask for help with the dog. “Met your friend today.... He asked me to say hi.”
“...and that his Articles of Incorporation are ready.”
Was it Griff’s stance or knowing he was a lawyer that reminded her of the way Jason had loved to bait her with ‘are you smart enough to know this?’ tests?
The memory roused a foul mood, but she shrugged it off.
“Nice meeting you,” she repeated and ran down the porch steps. Just how close was he to Logan? Because...birds of a feather and all that.
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