like a mini-Jones," My own mini-me said. "Except filthy."
"Diggy diggy." Clayton pounded on the tray with glee.
"Andrea?" Jones appeared from the kitchen, wet washcloth in hand. He looked less on edge than he had the day before, a hopeful sign. "What are you doing here?"
I straightened. "Kaylee wanted to meet Clayton."
Pops chucked the little guy under his grubby chin. "Your Aunt Cecily and I had the same idea. A person could expire of old age waiting for you young folks to get a move on."
"We've been busy, Pops," I muttered.
"It wasn't our intention to exclude you," Jones added. "But we've been otherwise occupied." He wiped off Clayton's hands and face and then unbuckled the little guy from the chair. Clayton took off on all fours toward Kaylee. She grinned, obviously just as enamored as I was with the little guy.
I looked over at Jones, searching his features. The man had one hell of a poker face. I couldn't tell if he'd found something on Chad Tobey's death or not. Either way, we didn't have the privacy to discuss it.
"I will make the pasta," Aunt Cecily announced, her words drawing my attention from Jones.
Oh, no. No, no, no. I had to keep her away from the pasta shop, at least while Jacob was there. "That's okay, Aunt Cecily. Kaylee and I have it under control."
She narrowed her eyes. "Mimi came back, yes?"
"Not until tonight," I admitted.
"And you still participate in this cooking competition, yes?"
She made Diced sound like a pie-eating contest at the county fair. "Yes."
"Then I must make the pasta." Without another word, she marched over to Kaylee. "We must go."
"Well, she's made up her mind. I best go warm up the car." Pops shuffled to the door, keys in hand.
I sent Jones a panicked look and mouthed the words "help me."
Jones cleared his throat. "Um, Aunt Cecily? I have to run into town. Is there any way you and Eugene could stay here until my sister arrives to watch Clayton? I don't want him anywhere near the madhouse of the cooking competition."
Aunt Cecily looked ready to argue—when didn't she? — but she gave a nod and said, "Very well. We will sit il bambino . "
"Thank you." Jones gestured to the door. "Don't you need to get back, Andrea?"
Oh, he totally had something for me. Unfortunately, there would be no opportunity to discuss whatever he knew with Kaylee in the car, and once we got to the pasta shop, finding a minute alone would be damn near impossible.
"We will be by after," Aunt Cecily said, her tone implying a hidden threat.
"Can't wait." My voice sounded faint, barely above a whisper. How on earth was I going to stop her?
* * *
"A terrific meal, Andy." Rodrigo Lobo touched my arm as I passed his booth, and I stopped, not wanting to seem rude.
"Coming from you, I'll take the compliment." I beamed down at him. "Can I get you anything else?"
There was nothing left on his plate but a smear of tomato sauce and a few breadcrumbs.
He patted his totally ripped stomach in mock exaggeration. "Not if I don't want to look like a beached whale on camera."
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jones pause in clearing a booth of dishes to glower. I pointedly turned my back on him, not willing to deal with a mantrum in the making. "You're one of the competitors?"
Rodrigo quirked a brow. "But of course."
I felt like an idiot for not figuring that out sooner but chalked it up to my multitude of distractions. That explained why he wanted to check out the pasta shop—he was scoping out his competition. I wondered if he really had enjoyed the meal, but empty plates didn't lie. "Any idea who we'll be up against?"
Rodrigo shook his head. "Stu is being even cagier than usual. And his mood has been so foul of late that I'm steering clear."
"I don't blame you there," I laughed, though it sounded a little forced. "Well, I better get back to it." I chucked a thumb at the kitchen door.
Rodrigo stopped me with a hand on my arm. "I was wondering if you'd let me cook for you
"Diggy diggy." Clayton pounded on the tray with glee.
"Andrea?" Jones appeared from the kitchen, wet washcloth in hand. He looked less on edge than he had the day before, a hopeful sign. "What are you doing here?"
I straightened. "Kaylee wanted to meet Clayton."
Pops chucked the little guy under his grubby chin. "Your Aunt Cecily and I had the same idea. A person could expire of old age waiting for you young folks to get a move on."
"We've been busy, Pops," I muttered.
"It wasn't our intention to exclude you," Jones added. "But we've been otherwise occupied." He wiped off Clayton's hands and face and then unbuckled the little guy from the chair. Clayton took off on all fours toward Kaylee. She grinned, obviously just as enamored as I was with the little guy.
I looked over at Jones, searching his features. The man had one hell of a poker face. I couldn't tell if he'd found something on Chad Tobey's death or not. Either way, we didn't have the privacy to discuss it.
"I will make the pasta," Aunt Cecily announced, her words drawing my attention from Jones.
Oh, no. No, no, no. I had to keep her away from the pasta shop, at least while Jacob was there. "That's okay, Aunt Cecily. Kaylee and I have it under control."
She narrowed her eyes. "Mimi came back, yes?"
"Not until tonight," I admitted.
"And you still participate in this cooking competition, yes?"
She made Diced sound like a pie-eating contest at the county fair. "Yes."
"Then I must make the pasta." Without another word, she marched over to Kaylee. "We must go."
"Well, she's made up her mind. I best go warm up the car." Pops shuffled to the door, keys in hand.
I sent Jones a panicked look and mouthed the words "help me."
Jones cleared his throat. "Um, Aunt Cecily? I have to run into town. Is there any way you and Eugene could stay here until my sister arrives to watch Clayton? I don't want him anywhere near the madhouse of the cooking competition."
Aunt Cecily looked ready to argue—when didn't she? — but she gave a nod and said, "Very well. We will sit il bambino . "
"Thank you." Jones gestured to the door. "Don't you need to get back, Andrea?"
Oh, he totally had something for me. Unfortunately, there would be no opportunity to discuss whatever he knew with Kaylee in the car, and once we got to the pasta shop, finding a minute alone would be damn near impossible.
"We will be by after," Aunt Cecily said, her tone implying a hidden threat.
"Can't wait." My voice sounded faint, barely above a whisper. How on earth was I going to stop her?
* * *
"A terrific meal, Andy." Rodrigo Lobo touched my arm as I passed his booth, and I stopped, not wanting to seem rude.
"Coming from you, I'll take the compliment." I beamed down at him. "Can I get you anything else?"
There was nothing left on his plate but a smear of tomato sauce and a few breadcrumbs.
He patted his totally ripped stomach in mock exaggeration. "Not if I don't want to look like a beached whale on camera."
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jones pause in clearing a booth of dishes to glower. I pointedly turned my back on him, not willing to deal with a mantrum in the making. "You're one of the competitors?"
Rodrigo quirked a brow. "But of course."
I felt like an idiot for not figuring that out sooner but chalked it up to my multitude of distractions. That explained why he wanted to check out the pasta shop—he was scoping out his competition. I wondered if he really had enjoyed the meal, but empty plates didn't lie. "Any idea who we'll be up against?"
Rodrigo shook his head. "Stu is being even cagier than usual. And his mood has been so foul of late that I'm steering clear."
"I don't blame you there," I laughed, though it sounded a little forced. "Well, I better get back to it." I chucked a thumb at the kitchen door.
Rodrigo stopped me with a hand on my arm. "I was wondering if you'd let me cook for you
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