Dog-Eared Delinquent

Chapter Four

I wish I would have been surprised when Nan showed up at my work the next day wearing an all-black satin gown and bolero jacket combo. She kind of looked like she was ready to attend an elegant society ball and then rob its hosts on her way out. She’d even done her makeup much more heavily than normal to match today’s bold style. Yes, winged liner and a smoky eye currently topped off my grandmother’s day-time look.

I knew she sometimes missed the glory days of singing, dancing, and acting her heart out on the Broadway stage, but sometimes she took her real day-to-day life in Blueberry Bay a bit far. I still fondly remembered how she’d donned a black and white checked bodysuit to accompany me to my driver’s test, or how she wore a cap and gown of her own to my high school graduation. Her wardrobe probably stretched all the way to Narnia for all the crazy outfits she kept hidden away until they were needed.

Was I embarrassed? Nope, not one bit.

I loved my nan and was long past feeling the need to apologize for her eccentricities. They were just as much a part of her as her loving, generous heart, and I wouldn’t trade either of those things for the world. Still, I did have to wonder what she had up her sleeve—or rather, her gloved arm—with this one.

“Hello, good people of Longfellow, Peters and Associates,” Nan declared, strolling into the office like she owned the place. In her hands she clutched a sealed Pyrex dish, which she promptly uncovered to reveal freshly baked apple turnovers.

Of course—apple because I’d mentioned the creepy episode with Peter outside of Charles’s office yesterday. What I couldn’t tell was whether this whole display was meant as a power play or rather a way to ingratiate herself as part of our so-called Operation: My Enemy is My Friend.

With Nan, you just never knew what was going on inside that wonderfully whacky brain of hers.

“Hi, Nan,” I said, rising from the small corner of the shared desk that I’d claimed as my own. “What are you doing here?”

Peter stayed seated but kept his eyes on us while offering up a cool, casual smile.

“Hello, dear.” Nan gave me air kisses instead of a hug, further proving that she’d decided to play some kind of character role today. Even her voice sounded grander, surer, as it reached to the far edges of the room.

“Well, of course, you know how I’m planning that fabulous dinner party later this month. I’m testing out some gowns and some recipes ahead of time to lessen the burden of all the choices I’ll have to make as we get closer to the big day.” She paused and dipped her head, after tossing me a quick wink. “Now tell me. How do I look?”

She spun in a slow, graceful circle as if there was absolutely nothing for either of us to be embarrassed about. The thing that made her a great actress, I knew, was that she truly lived every single role. Granted, she was simply playing a farcical version of herself today, but that didn’t stop her from owning it one hundred percent.

“You look beautiful,” I said with a big smile. I may not have always agreed with her methods, but I had to admit that no one even came close to the space Nan occupied in my heart.

“Thank you,” she said primly. “And, now, how do these taste?” she added, shoving the open Pyrex dish into my face with a desperate, needy look.

I plucked one of the desserts from the top of the stack and took a nibble. “Absolutely delicious,” I answered honestly after swallowing down the perfect mix of sweet and tart. Part of me wished she had discovered this newfound passion for baking when I was younger so I could’ve enjoyed these talents longer. My waistline thought differently, though. I’d already had to go up one pants size this month, and I was not keen to go up another.

Nan frowned and her voice dropped into a husky pout. “Oh, but you always say what I want to hear. I need an impartial opinion.” She spun around again, this time searching the room as if she didn’t know Peter was the only other person around.

“You there!” she called, erupting into a full, sparkling smile as her eyes landed on a watchful Peter. “Can I count on you to give me your honest opinion? There’s a free dessert in it for you, if you agree.”

Peter hopped to his feet and sauntered over to join us. “I was hoping you’d ask.” Without waiting for any further invitation, he grabbed two pastries from the stack and ate them in giant, appreciative bites.

“So good,” he smacked, his mouth still full. “You should definitely serve these at your party.”

Nan frowned again. “But you haven’t tried the other options. How do you know for sure that these are the best?”

Peter chuckled and took a third apple turnover. “If they’re all this good, then you have nothing to worry about.”

Nan placed one gloved hand on Peter’s arm and the other on mine. “Oh, I know!” Her eyes sparkled with the promise of a new idea, even though I had no doubt she’d arrived at the firm with this exact script already written and memorized. “Would you mind stopping by later tonight to try some of the others and offer your expert opinion on which is best?”

Peter faltered as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Today he wore a tight t-shirt that had a bowtie and shirt collar printed onto it. He’d paired this with dark wash jeans and what I guessed was unintentional bed head. “Oh, I don’t know if—”

“Please?” Nan begged, casting a pathetic shrug his way. “This party is so important to me. It might be the last I ever get to throw before God takes me back to the great dinner party in the sky.”

Wow, she went there. She really went there.

“Oh, well. Sure, okay,” Peter answered with a puzzled gaze that he quickly transitioned into a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

Nan perked up instantly. “Lovely. See you tonight, dear. Six o’clock?”

This whole time they spoke, Peter simpered at Nan and studiously ignored me. So, he only hated me, it seemed. At least I knew Nan believed me about his antagonism, even if my colleagues didn’t.

He nodded now and took another two treats for himself. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Excellent,” Nan declared, then pushed the glass dish at Peter. “Why don’t you keep these to remember me by? Just don’t spoil your appetite for tonight.” She reached up and pinched his cheek, then to my horror made a kissy face before letting go.

“Well, my dear,” she said, turning back my way. “This gown may look divine, but it doesn’t quite have the movement I need for an entire evening spent wearing it. Back to the boutique it goes!”

I nodded dumbly.

She glanced over my shoulder toward Peter and blew him one last kiss goodbye. “Now I must be off. Angie has the address. Toodles!” And just like that, Nan blew out of the office every bit as quickly as she’d entered.

I headed back to the desk while Peter slumped down into one of the thick armchairs in our waiting area, helping himself to yet another turnover. “That was weird,” he said.

I shrugged. “That was Nan.”

He studied the pastry in his hand, then widened his eyes and shoved it into his mouth. “She’s fun. I like her.”

I shot him a polite, fake smile, then tried to return my focus to work.

Peter, however, seemed in the mood for a chat. “It’s really too bad you don’t take after her,” he informed me with a sigh. “We’d have a much better time at work if you did.”

I pretended I hadn’t heard him, but he kept talking anyway.

“You don’t look much like her, either. Maybe you inherited something else from her. You know, besides personality and looks. Maybe some secret trait or talent. Hmm?” He chuckled and brushed his sticky fingers against his jeans. “I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Indeed we would. Poor Peter had no idea he was walking straight into a trap. Nan may seem crazy on the surface, but she’s the best sleuth I know. Her interrogation skills are also top-notch.

Not to mention, Octo-Cat and I would also be there and ready to pounce on even the slightest suspicion. It may have been easy for him to pick on me at work, but my house was my fortress and filled with everyone who loved me most. For all his faults, I knew Octo-Cat would also do whatever it took to protect me. Even all these months later, he still found new and terrifying ways to surprise me.

Peter Peters didn’t stand a chance.