“Well, yeah.” Ariella put her phone down. “There’s always someone. They could be old or young or a guy or a girl. There’s no way to predict, you know?”

Tabitha was leaning forward. “No way at all. Like that poor woman they found in the state forest. Emily, her name was? Sad she was killed, naturally, but I heard she was really hard to please.”

Ariella’s smile vanished. “Whoever you heard that from was right. She was a . . . She was awful.”

“You poor dear.” Tabitha reached across the table to pat her hand. “Do you want to tell us about it?”

“No,” she said shortly. “I don’t. I tried to help her, and she complained to the city manager about me. Can you believe it?”

I could, actually, because my guess was that Ariella’s customer service had been more the stone-faced-stubborn kind than the kindly “let’s figure out a way to make this work” variety.

“You poor dear,” Tabitha said again. “Do you think that’s why the city let you go? Because of her complaint?”

Ariella’s face went red. “I’d bet on it. I’d bet a lot.”

Chapter 13

Rafe had said he had another regional meeting to attend that night, so I texted my aunt about inviting myself over.

Minnie: Any chance I can mooch dinner tonight?

Aunt Frances: Rafe coming, too?

Minnie: He has a meeting.

Aunt Frances: Another one? Does he usually have this many?

Minnie (after thinking a minute): No, but it sounds like all these meetings are because of changes at the state. Plus he’s always busy at the start of the school year.

Aunt Frances: Any chance you’ll do the dishes?

Minnie: 100%

Aunt Frances: 6 pm. You are my favorite niece.

Minnie: I’d say you are my favorite aunt, but I just acquired a new one.

I shut down my phone before she asked questions and tucked my knees under her dining table precisely at six o’clock. “This looks amazing,” I said, admiring the interesting texture and colors of the arrangement of chicken, tomatoes, and squash.

Otto quirked an eyebrow as he filled my wineglass. “Don’t tell me you’re getting interested in cooking.”

“Not a chance,” I said cheerfully. “Eating, yes. Cooking, no.”

Aunt Frances pointed her fork at me. “Enough with the chitchat. Where did you get a new aunt?”

I ignored Otto’s startled glance. “She’s adorable,” I said dreamily. “Like an aunt from Hollywood’s central casting. White-haired. Round-faced. Perky. Bubbly.”

Frowning, my aunt put her fork down. “Brains of a pea?”

“Oh, no. She’s very smart. Retired from a career of legislative policy research for a downstate nonprofit. We’re working together on . . . on a project.”

“What kind of project?” Otto asked at the same time my aunt asked, “Where did you meet her?”