From the way she owned the room, it was clear that the woman also owned the coffeehouse. She might have mentioned her husband, but what Grace got out of her story was that Addy was the boss in that relationship, too. Threatening him with a frying pan? Somehow, she didn’t think the other woman was exaggerating.
It was refreshing. She decided she liked the woman, especially her boisterous, mile-a-minute personality, even if she didn’t know what almond milk was.
It wasn’t too long before Addy was back, expertly carrying a tray on her hip and a fresh pot of coffee in her other hand. The tray held a small stainless steel milk pitcher and one of the same white mugs with blue letters stamped across the center. Up close, Grace saw that they said DC&C, just like Addy said. She still had no clue what that meant.
She thought about asking, then let it go. If these were the mugs that nearly got Gus’s head bashed in with a frying pan, it was probably better if she didn’t know.
Addy placed the mug in front of Grace, put the milk pitcher next to it, then tucked the tray underneath her arm. She poured out the steaming coffee into the mug, leaving just enough room for the milk.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. If you need a refill, don’t be afraid to holler. If it’s not me, it’ll be Sally running it out. She should be out of school any minute now.”
Grace thought about asking Addy who Sally was. She let that one go, too.
It turned out
that she didn’t have a choice. In Addy’s next breath, she found out exactly who Sally was.
“I forgot to tell you before. It’s lucky you came down today. I was gonna call Ophelia later, see about your lessons. I’m betting Sally would love to take part in something like that.” At Grace’s dazed look, she went on to add, “Dinah Jefferson called the coffeehouse as soon as you left her store. She thought it would be perfect for my kid. You’ve got something I can show Sally and her girlfriends? Di said you made some copies at the store.”
Grace didn’t know what to say. It was one thing to joke about the Hamlet gossips with Maria. It was another entirely to hear that. Jeez, it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since she left Jefferson’s.
Because Addy was waiting expectantly, she bought some time by reaching for her bag, grabbing one of Maria’s posters from the top. She handed it to Addy.
“Word gets around fast,” she managed at last.
Addy laughed, folding the flier and tucking it beneath her apron. “Oh, yeah. But that’s Hamlet for you.”
The stop for coffee was a mistake. It was delicious—and, at Addy’s urging she put away two cranberry scones before she was too full to take another bite—but the rich coffee was so much stronger than the rest stop swill she had last week. The caffeine was a definite jolt to her system. And while it gave her the needed energy to suck it up and drive back to Ophelia, her already taut nerves were jangling.
Her fingers were twitching. She gripped the steering wheel tighter to hide it. Her thoughts were racing in a hundred different directions and she forced herself to focus. She wondered if this was how Addy felt all the time. As forgetful and as talkative at the owner of the coffeehouse was, Grace suspected she probably dipped into her own supply. She didn’t blame her, either. That was some good stuff.
Way too strong, though. Grace buzzed and hummed as she drove, eyes darting to and fro, keeping alert. To her relief, she didn’t come across another car as she searched for the purple ribbon that would bring her back to Orchard Avenue.
Maria’s mint green coupe was there. Sly’s cruiser was missing, and Grace was glad. The pit stop at the coffeehouse had taken her mind off of Tommy while she was talking to Addy. Now, though? She couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was back to obsessing over the fifty dollars and the brazen way they asked about finding a place to stay.
Maybe she got lucky that Jefferson forgot all about Ophelia. She knew from experience that her luck had a tendency to run out when she least expected it. Once they cased the Hamlet Inn—and they would—it was only a matter of time before they discovered she wasn’t there. What happened then?
Would they come back? Try talking to the Jeffersons again? What about Addy? Sweet woman, but she seemed like the last person on the planet who would keep a secret—especially since no one knew that her hiding out in Hamlet was a secret.
Because she kept it one.
Crap.
She almost did it. Almost turned right when she got to the hall, slipping off to the Sunflower Room instead of checking in with her hostess. With two scones and far too much coffee churning in her uneasy belly, it wasn’t as if Grace needed dinner. Then she thought of the intercom. If she didn’t stop in at the kitchen, Maria would page her when dinner was done.
Might as well face the music now.
Grace never wanted to do this. And now she had no choice. It wasn’t about hiding out anymore. If someone tipped Pope off that she was staying at Ophelia, she was putting Maria at risk, too. The locks were great. Security was phenomenal. But they weren’t engaged all the time, and how could she expect Maria to stay safe when the other woman had no idea that she needed to be?
Maria was at the stove when Grace entered the kitchen, a dish towel in one hand, a wooden spoon in the other as she tended to something in a large stew pot.
“Buonasera, Grace. I’m finishing dinner soon. It should be—” Maria stopped. “Grace. Sweetie. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”
Here goes nothing.
“He’s not a ghost, even if he acts like one sometimes. His name is Tommy Mathers. He’s thirty years old, his family is loaded, and he won’t leave me the hell alone.”