She dropped her face into her hands. “When am I going to learn to shut my big fat mouth?”
“Not now, I hope.”
Yiayia sighed as she slumped in a chair. “I call things as I see them, you know? It’s gotten me in trouble.” She waved a hand like she couldn’t be bothered with all that trouble, drawing Evie’s attention to her long red nails. “But in the end, we Dogmothers usually get what we want.”
“Dogmothers?”
“A nickname.” She pointed at the dogs. The heavier one had already crawled under the settee to rest, but the other one inched toward Evie and looked right up at her.
She couldn’t resist rubbing her little head. “This is Gala?”
“Galatea. And that’s Pygmalion settling in for a snooze.”
“Oh, that’s where you get the name Pyggie.”
“Had no idea he’d get that fat.”
Evie chuckled at that and offered her palm for Gala to sniff and lick. “They’re precious. And you and Finnie are the Dogmothers.”
“But we’re also matchmakers.”
“Excuse me?” She couldn’t have heard that right.
“We’re quite successful, if I do say so myself.” She gave a broad smile. “It’s Declan’s turn.”
What?
“Listen.” The woman pressed those red-tipped nails together in a prayerlike pose. “Please don’t tell Finnie. Please? I promised her I’d do this her way, but her way is…” She shook her head vehemently. “You don’t get two people back together on hope and a prayer, but you know Finola. ‘The Irish say hope makes all things possible.’” She did a spot-on brogue, which would be funny if anything about this confounding conversation could be funny.
“Get two people back together?” That was all that stuck in Evie’s head.
“You. And Declan. You belong together.”
She stared at Yiayia, speechless.
“Finnie told me everything, and I do mean everything, dear. I know about your friendship and the fire—so unbelievably tragic—and she mentioned how you did surgery on Rusty, and everyone could see how affected Declan was merely to be in the same room with you.”
She almost couldn’t believe she was hearing this. Almost. Except, deep inside—maybe not so terribly deep—she wanted to roll up in a corner and beg the woman to share every little detail.
Declan had been affected, too? Had he suffered for weeks afterward like she had? They belonged together?
“He’s such a wonderful man,” Yiayia crooned.
No kidding.
“He’s so handsome and the captain of the fire department, and everyone looks up to him so. He’s set in his single ways, is all, but then Darcy Kilcannon happened to mention that she heard you were in town—”
“Agnes? Evie?” Finnie called. “Where did you girls go?”
“Oh my God!” Yiayia shot up, low-grade panic on her face that was instantly reflected on little Gala’s expression. “Please don’t tell her I told you. Please. Go along with her stupid plan.”
“What plan?”
“Shhh! She’s coming.”
“Agnes?”
“In here, Finola.” Her voice was reed-thin with nerves. “Chatting with this lovely lady.”
Evie stood on shaky legs when Gramma Finnie came into the museum room, looking sweet and innocent and like she’d never made a “stupid” plan in her life.
Maybe it was the way Gala panted like she sensed Yiayia’s stress, but something stopped Evie from asking a single question.
Maybe it was the red-tipped hand that closed over her wrist and squeezed. “So nice to talk to you, Evie,” Yiayia said through gritted teeth. “What a fascinating history this room has.”
Or maybe it was a bone-deep desire to let Gramma Finnie’s plan…work.
She shot one quick look to Yiayia, long enough to silently communicate that, for whatever reason, her secret was safe.
Only then did those fingers relax.
“And, Agnes, did you, uh, get a good look around?” Gramma Finnie asked pointedly.
“Oh yes. We can leave now.” She scooted her bag up on her shoulder and tugged the leashes. “Let’s go, you two.”
“I hate to visit and run, but we must get the dogs out.” Gramma Finnie was almost to the door already. “So nice to see you, lass. And your dear sweet grandfather.”
Yiayia beamed at her. “Such a beautiful woman you are, Evie. Inside and out. I can see why…” She caught herself. “Why Finnie wanted me to meet you.”
Except Finnie had said she thought a nurse would be here.
“Goodbye, then.” Gramma Finnie took Yiayia’s other hand. “We’d best be going.”
In what felt like an extremely rushed exit, the two women slipped out the front door and toddled down the drive like the two dogs between them.
The Dogmothers? Matchmakers?
The minute the car pulled away, she headed back into the museum room to try to figure out their…plan. But nothing appeared to have changed in this room. Then Granddaddy’s bell rang furiously, which usually meant he needed something right away.
She headed toward the stairs, taking them two at a time, then down the hall to his room, surprised to find him standing by the window seat. “You okay, Granddaddy?”
“Oh yes. I’m wonderful. Elated. Never felt better.” He turned, his color high for the first time in days. “Finnie and I had the most fascinating conversation.”
“That’s great. She certainly seems to have lifted your spirits.”
“She did indeed.”
“No more talk of a celebration of life?”
“Pffft! Too much to live for, Evangeline.” He waved a hand, his eyes no longer faded with clouds but sparkling with unexpected vigor. “I’ll take that tea now, if it’s not too much bother. Iced, please. And maybe something to eat?”
“Of course.” She eyed him carefully. “You are feeling better, Granddaddy.”
He gave a smile. “Oh, you know what the Irish say. ‘With hope, anything is possible.’”
Since when did he quote Irish proverbs? Since Finola Kilcannon came over with a stupid plan. But she could still hear the Greek grandmother’s voice.
You belong together.
Oh, sweet ladies and dear old gent. Hate to break it to you, but that ship sailed long ago…and sank.
Chapter Four
Declan pushed away from his desk three hours after his shift ended, the mountain of paperwork finally conquered. But then his phone dinged with a text, and he almost didn’t want to look at it. Probably
