Page 19 of VOGUEish

And then her phone had rung, and she’d practically pushed him out the door. But tonight, she appeared relaxed.

He eyed her as she took her seat. “You look even lovelier than you did this morning over coffee.”

She dropped her purse in the chair next to her. “Nonsense. I’m looking old. I’m feeling it, too. I miss Patricia.”

Chandler sat and gave Nonna a closer look. She did appear tired. Something he hadn’t noticed this morning. But that was to be expected. For as long as he could remember, she’d been moving through life pulled in opposite directions. One toward her corporation. The other toward her projects. Projects that had multiplied when Ms. Patricia had passed away.

Nonna had not even known she’d died, since Ms. Patricia had been living out of the country, until a woman who went by the name of Molly Thorn had shown up in Manhattan and claimed to have met Patricia in the afterlife. According to Molly, Patricia had requested she pass a message on to Nonna. A message Nonna had believed only after Molly had given her proof she was in contact with Ms. Patricia.

Chandler reached for Nonna’s hand and squeezed. “Why don’t you take a vacation? I seem to recall you mentioning being invited to visit Mayhem. You would get a hoot out of visiting a town where you can talk to ghosts, and mingle with witches, and see where the Grim Reaper for the Magicals lives.” Hell. He’d have fun visiting such a town.

“What I need is a redo on today, not a vacation.”

He sat back. “What did you do today that was so horrible you need a redo?”

She patted her painted lips with her napkin. “I have a confession to make.”

His chest tightened. This sounded serious. He really wasn’t in the mood for serious. “Last I checked, I’m not a priest. No need to make a confession.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t burden you with my troubles.” She reached over and squeezed his arm. “I understand from the doorman there was a slight kerfuffle with your getting a taxi this morning.”

Since when did she and the doorman have conversations about his leaving the building? And what did this have to do with her confession? And why had the pitch of her voice changed when she’d let him off the hook? Maybe he should have allowed her to confess.

She cleared her throat. “Chandler? Are you listening?”

He shook away his thoughts. “Sorry. Yes. No. What was your question?”

She pulled her hand back to her lap. “I was asking you about the young lady you had a kerfuffle with this morning. Did everything work out satisfactorily?”

“Oh, her. She was just a brash New Yorker who couldn’t wait her turn for a taxi.”

Nonna frowned. “That’s too bad.”

“Why do you say that?”

She gave a delicate shrug. Something she rarely did. “Oh, you know me. Always dreaming about your future wife. Wouldn’t it have been grand if you’d met the lady of your dreams over a taxi fight?”

“I’d prefer to meet the woman of my dreams under a full moon,” he drawled. “Much more romantic.”

Her lips pursed. “And just how often are you out walking under a full moon in order for that to happen?”

He grinned. “You have a point. I’ll try to schedule more moonlight strolls.” She was stalling. But why? She was the one who had mentioned a confession.

“Or you could get off your high horse and let me set you up with one of the many fine young ladies I’ve helped over the years.”

He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Nonna, we’ve been over this. Never would I be moved to date a woman my godmother helped to pick out for me. I’m not relationship material, and you know this.”

“Nonsense. And never say never, darling. It tempts fate.”

“Haven’t you heard? I eat fate for breakfast and spit it out for dinner.” His words were a direct quote from this morning’s article.

Her smile fell away. “That is not funny and not even accurate.”

Whatever was bothering Nonna, it really had its grip on her. “Nonna—”

“What if I happened across the perfect woman for you at one of my many charity—”

“That would never happen because we have an understanding. You will never do that. I will find my perfect woman all on my own when I’m ready. No help from you.”

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