by Gina LaManna
“Igavethemsomebooks,” Nora mumbled. She said the words so jumbled together I could hardly make them out.
“You’re going to have to speak slower,” I said. “I can’t understand you.”
“ESL?” Meg asked.
I gave her a look. “No! She’s mumbling.”
“No, she’s not.” Meg thunked the baguette against her palm. “She just said that she gave them some books. Right, Nora?”
My grandmother nodded. “Thanks for interpreting. I’m nervous.”
“I really don’t think books would be the problem,” I said. “What sort of stories are we talking about?”
“The Boxcar Children,” Nora whimpered. She could barely look me in the eye. “I gave them the entire series.”
“Weren’t those books published in like the seventeen hundreds?” Meg asked. “I read them. They’re old.”
“Okay, maybe the nineteen hundreds,” I said, turning to Nora. “What’s wrong with that? Meg and I both read the series as kids. They’re great books. What would that have to do with Marissa and Clarissa running away?”
Nora frowned. “Well, maybe the girls thought it sounded fun to live in a boxcar.”
“Yes, sure. But then again, we all did. I mean, I thought it’d be incredible to live in a boxcar after those books, and look at me. I turned out okay.” I smiled.
“Debatable,” Meg sighed.
“Single at thirty?” Nora added. “I agree. Debatable.”
“Okay, okay, I get it, Miss Baguette and Miss Limeade-Legs.” I pointed my finger at Meg and Nora in turn. Nora stretched her legs, admiring the limeade tights during the moment of silence. “We’ve all run away at some point. I’m sure the girls are just rebelling. Didn’t you run away?”
“Yes,” Nora said, her eyes watering. “Yes, I did, now that you mention it.”
“See? That’s my point; it’s natural. Kids, both boys and girls, run away sometimes. It’s not your fault, Nora. I mean, you ran away and look at you now! You’re successful. You’re married to your soul mate. You have a family that loves you.” I kneeled next to my grandmother, resting my hands on her legs. “We’ve all done it. Meg and I didn’t last five minutes away from the house. Marissa and Clarissa are just more stubborn. They’ll probably come back when they’re hungry for a snack.”
Nora turned those big, watery eyes on me. “I ran away when I was sixteen. And I haven’t seen my family since. Carlos and I eloped because our families were against us getting married in Italy. We chose each other instead, which is how we ended up here.”
I coughed. “Well, um.” I paused. “You’re an outlier.”
Meg thunked the baguette. “You’re hardcore, Auntie Nora.”
“The girls still think boys have cooties,” I said, patting Nora’s knee. “They’re not eloping, I promise you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.” I patted her knee. “Meg and I are going to go find the girls now. Someday they’ll be sitting here and remembering this moment when their daughters run away, and Marissa and Clarissa are scared stiff.”
Looking slightly appeased at the thought of one of her grandchildren getting married and starting a family, Nora nodded. “So you don’t think it was the books?”
“I know it wasn’t the books. They probably haven’t even read them,” I said. “But don’t worry, they’ll have plenty of time to catch up on reading when they’re grounded.”
Nora smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Standing, I hooked my arm in Meg’s. “Are you ready to go do some detective work?”
“You got it.” Meg gestured with the baguette towards the front door. “Mush! Mush, mush!”
I glanced at Meg. “I’m not a dog. I don’t listen to dog commands.”
“Eh, sometimes you do.” Meg gave a lopsided smile. “It was worth a shot.”
“Oh, one more thing, Lacey,” Nora called. “What are you doing for Anthony’s birthday?”
“Anthony has a birthday?” I asked. “I mean, of course he has a birthday, but…I just didn’t – he never talks about it.”
“Hm, Anthony not talking about something? Do tell…that surprises you how? And why?” Meg’s sarcasm could be sliced like the bread in her hands. “I’m shocked. Anthony, keeping secrets and not talking much. Who would’ve thought?”
“When is his birthday?” I asked. “I don’t think he’d say, even if I asked him flat out. If he doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, he’s certainly not going to want to celebrate a day all about himself.”
“Why dear, Anthony’s birthday is on Leap Day.” Nora looked surprised. “Neato, huh?”
Meg hesitated for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. When her cackling slowed, she wiped a hand across her tear-streaked face. “Now that is classic. Unicorn Day. I knew that man didn’t really exist.”
CHAPTER 8
“Just think about it, Lacey,” Nora said as Meg and I took a step from the front doorway. “It’d be fun! And Anthony would love a homemade dinner as a gift. You just need to learn how to cook something first!”
“Cooking class?” I cleared my throat, trying to figure out an easy way to let Nora down. After asking for ideas of birthday gifts that Anthony might appreciate, all she’d come up with was a homemade dinner. “That sounds like a disaster.”
“It’ll be grandmother-granddaughter bonding time,” Nora said, before her eyes flicked to Meg. “And Meg, if she needs to come.”
“I don’t need to come, since I’m a cooking guru, but I will anyway.” She smiled proudly. “It’ll be fun to see you two burn the place down. Plus, Anthony’s turning nine years old or something, seeing how he only has a birthday once every four years. Can’t miss the big boy’s party. He’s almost ten whole fingers old.”
“Number one, we’re not burning anything down. Number two, you’ve never cooked a thing in your life, so how can you know you’re good at it?” I ticked the numbers on my fingers. “You are eating raw bread for a meal as we speak. And number three, don’t say Anthony is nine…that makes me feel weird.”
“Oh girl, this isn’t a meal, this is a staple. Something to tide me over ‘til lunch.” Meg smacked the rapidly disappearing baguette against her hand. “Let’s do the class! I think it would be good for you and your grandmother and me to bond.”
“Maybe,” I paused. “But I asked about a present. How is our taking a cooking class a gift for Anthony? Tell me what to get the man who has everything, and then we’ll be talking.”
“That’s just it. You get him something he can’t buy,” Nora said. “A nice, home-cooked meal. He’ll appreciate it, I guarantee it.”
“He can buy a meal,” I said. “It’s called a restaurant.”
“You’re missing the words home-cooked.”
“I’ll bring home a rotisserie chicken and throw it on the plate, heat up some steam-in-the-bag veggies and…voila.” I gave a flourish with my hands. “Gourmet.”
Nora shook her head. “Then you’re on your own finding a present. I gave you my two cents. We all know that Anthony buys whatever he needs. But I suppose that, like all men, he could use some more socks and underwear.”
Meg raised her hand. “I call the underwear. I’m buying Anthony underwear.” Meg stepped forward and tapped my shoulder, her voice low. “Oh, and he’ll probably need to model it for me, I hope you don’t mind. I swear, I’ll just borrow him to try them on for size.”
“I’m not buying Anthony socks and underwear. And neither are you.” I crossed my arms and shifted from foot to foot. My heart rate increased at least tenfold as I tried to think of a gift that Anthony would love, appreciate, and use. Nothing came to mind. He’d either love it, use it, or appreciate it – but never all together. I sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”
Meg nudged my shoulder. “Hey, look at the bright side.”
Looking up, I waited until it became clear Meg wasn’t going to finish her thought. “The bright side?”<
br />
“Yeah. Look at the bright side.”
“Meg,” I set a hand on her shoulder. “Usually when someone says look at the bright side, they tell you the bright side.”
“But how is that fair? I don’t want to do all the work.”
“You’re supposed to cheer me up.”
“Oh, fine. Sometimes you’re needy, Lace, but I love it. What would I do without you?” Meg reached into her pocket and pulled out a blingin’ pink phone case, while I tried to decipher her definition of bright side. “Here, look.”
Glancing at the phone screen, I shook my head. “Meg, there’s nothing there.”
“Yes, there is.” She shoved the phone closer to my eyes, as if that would help.
“No, I think you took a picture of your finger.” I turned the screen around so she could see the dark, skin-colored blob covering the majority of it.
“Whoops, wrong one. I meant this one.” Flicking through a few photos, she chortled when a particular one caught her eye. “Not that one, actually, that one would scar you for life.”
When she finally settled on a new photo, she pointed the screen back at me while I tried not to think about what sort of photo Meg had sitting in her album that might’ve scarred me. “Is that…is that the list?”
Meg nodded.
“What list?” Nora asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. It wasn’t that I wanted to keep my mother’s bucket list a secret from my grandmother; no, I’d tell her soon enough. But I had a fear that Nora might be a little overzealous about Meg’s plan to complete the bucket list tasks, especially the ones about dating good boys and kissing bad ones. Better to tell her after the fact.
“You can check off number nine.” Meg pointed to the screen. “I think this is a great opportunity to say yes when you want to say no.”
“You think he’ll like a homemade meal as a gift?” I hesitated. “You don’t think it’s too, I dunno, cheesy?”
“Not if you stay away from pizza,” Meg said. “Now, that’d be cheesy. Admit it, that’s funny. I’m funny.”
Nora reached out and squeezed my hand. “I did it once as a present for Carlos, except I didn’t take a class. It was a really fun evening.”
“What did you cook?”
“Oh, I got a rotisserie chicken.” Nora shrugged. “But I know Anthony would appreciate you trying to cook him something all on your own.”
“I suppose I could always just have the chicken as backup,” I said, considering my burned toast from breakfast. “And it might be fun to learn how to cook a nice meal. It’s been on my To Do list to become more domestic.”
“I have faith in you. You don’t even need backup chickens.” Meg gave my shoulder a playful punch that was more of a zinger than she probably anticipated. “Have some confidence, Lace. You never thought you could be a mobsterista, but look at you now! You have a whole slew of bad guys you’ve upset, and you practically started your own business. You’re a major success.”
Nora nodded vigorously.
“Okay,” I finally agreed. “But only because I can check two items off the list, numbers nine and twelve.”
My grandmother clasped both of my hands. “I’ll make reservations. How does tomorrow afternoon sound?”
“It’s a date,” I said, realizing that we’d need to find the girls’ hiding spot sooner rather than later, or I wouldn’t be cooking much of anything. “I’ll pick you up?”
“I’ll ride in the back seat,” Meg added. “Thanks for the invite.”
Nora clapped her hands. “This will be fun.”
I led Meg down towards my car and murmured under my breath. “Famous last words.”
CHAPTER 9
“Why do you think Anthony didn’t mention it was his birthday?” Looking over the center console of the Lumina towards Meg, I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel. “I mean, we’ve been dating more than half a year by now, so I’d have thought he’d mention it.”
“Did you ask him directly?”
“Well, I don’t know that I asked it directly. It’s one of those things that just ‘come up.’”
“Not with Anthony, things don’t just ‘come up’ if he doesn’t want them to. Except for maybe when he’s feeling particularly excited to see you—”
“That’s enough,” I interrupted. “I just think it’s weird he wouldn’t have mentioned it. What if it had already passed before I found out? I’d feel terrible I didn’t even wish him Happy Birthday. Especially since it only comes once every four years.”
“You’ve got to understand that Anthony hardly answers a direct question, let alone an un-direct one. Or a question you think in your head.” Meg shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t you think he’d want to celebrate with me?”
“You should talk, Miss I-Don’t-Want-A-Party. You fought me like a crazy person when I tried to plan you a get-together. Not all people like activities where they have to be the center of attention, I’ve learned. I mean, I don’t get it, but whatever. More parties for me.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. So you don’t think he was hiding it from me?”
“Of course he was hiding it from you! But only because he probably is sensitive about getting old. What if he’s turning fifty? Which would really be more like thirteen in Anthony Age. God, you’re dating a teenager. I’m so sorry about that, Lace.”
“He’s not turning fifty.”
“Who knows? Maybe he ages like fine wine.”
“I’m sure he does, but still.” I paused. “He can’t be fifty, can he? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just guessed he’d be closer to my age.”
“You’re almost thirty, it’s not like you’re Miss Spring Chicken over here.”
“I’m very spring-y.” I gripped the wheel. “And you’re the same age as me.”
“Yeah, but I’m aging in reverse. Like Benjamin Button.”
“Well, I hope he likes my cooking because I don’t know what else to get him.”
“Our cooking,” Meg corrected. “So what’s the plan now? Are we stopping by Clay’s for undies and then off to talk to Nicky?”
“We have to get some information from Clay. You told him to get started on tracking the girls’ phones, right? Hopefully he’ll have something by now.”
Meg nodded. “Clay called Nicky, got the numbers, and started looking. Hopefully that’s enough to have a result by the time we get to our apartment.”
“My apartment,” I clarified.
“Whatever you like to tell yourself.” Meg patted my arm. Then she whispered, “Our apartment.”
CHAPTER 10
“Did you get your undies?” Sitting on the couch next to my tech-whiz cousin and part-time roommate Clay, Meg didn’t bother to look up as I strolled into the living room. She sat too close to Clay, staring over his shoulder at a flashing computer screen. Words, numbers, and coded lines whizzed past, a mere reflection in her eyes. “Can you explain this gibberish?”
“Well, it’s tricky with these phones.” Clay shot me a look, his ears reddening as his eyes fell upon my bulging purse. Not only was Clay smarter than average, he was a genius. And even a computer genius could put together Meg’s question with my exploding purse. It didn’t help that a hunk of lace dangled from the zipper.
“That’s a lot of undies,” Meg said. “You sure you don’t want to just bring your whole drawer over?”
“I still live here,” I insisted. “Now Clay, do you have any location on the girls for us, or should we go to Nicky’s?”
“The last place their phones had a GPS signal was at a park just outside Lake Phalen.”
“Lake Phalen,” I frowned. “That’s a little drive from Nicky’s house.”
Clay shrugged. “Sort of, but it could be walkable. The girls go to school here…” he put his finger on the table.
The distance between the Luzzi compound and the girls’ school was too far to walk, but only a fifteen-minute d
rive, as I knew from experience.
“They live here,” he added another finger, “and this is where I got their GPS signal. They’re all about a half mile apart. A decent distance for two little girls, but not impossible. We can’t rule out walking as their mode of transportation.”
“So should I swing by the lake first?” I asked. “Or do you think they’ve moved on to somewhere else?”
“Stop by the lake. Maybe they shut their phones off while sunning on the beach.” Clay shook his head. “Or whatever it is girls do when they run away.”
“Got it. Meg, are you coming?” I heaved the bursting bag higher onto my shoulder. If I didn’t talk to Anthony soon about bringing my stuff to his place, there was a chance I’d be walking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Waving goodbye to Clay, I started to leave. “Call me if you get any more information on the girls.”
“Lacey…” Clay coughed, looking less confident than his typically very confident self. “Do you think the girls are just goofing off?”
Spinning around, I stopped in the door to the living room. “I’m sure they’re fine.”
However, each time someone asked me if Marissa and Clarissa would be okay, and each time I saw the worry in the eyes of my family, I became a tiny bit less confident.
The longer they were gone, the more I wondered if their disappearance wasn’t as simple as I’d thought. Maybe, just maybe, they hadn’t run away.
CHAPTER 11
“They’re not here,” Meg said. “At least, not anywhere I’d be.”
“You’ve only checked the lifeguard stands and the bathroom. Let’s keep looking.” Meg and I spread out over a small beach that surrounded Lake Phalen. Personally, I wouldn’t stick a toe in the water these days, even it if wasn’t frozen solid. When I was younger, my mom had taken me to the lake to swim now and again, but over the years the water had grown muckier and the seaweed grew thick as thieves.
