Page 78 of Homeport

As expected, he’d charmed Colleen out of her snit. The two of them, Miranda noted, were smiling, their arms around each other’s waists. For the first time, Colleen sent Miranda a friendly look.

“Sorry about that. Just a few things we needed to straighten out.”

“No problem.”

“So . . .” Colleen sat at the table, rested her feet on the opposite chair. “Do you have any solid feeling for who might have stolen the original bronze?”

Miranda just blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Ryan filled me in. Maybe I can help you sort it out.”

“Six months out of the academy and she’s Sherlock Holmes.” Ryan bent over, kissed her hair. “Want me to dry the pots, Mama?”

“No, it’s Patrick’s turn.” She glanced around. “Somebody steal something from your lady?”

“I did,” he said easily, and joined the women at the table. “It turned out to be a forgery. We’re straightening it out.”

“Good.”

“Wait. Wait just a minute.” Miranda lifted both hands. “Good? Is that what you said? Good? You’re telling me you know your son’s a thief?”

“What, am I a moron?” Maureen neatly wiped her hands before fisting them on her hips. “Of course I know.”

“I told you she knew,” Ryan pointed out.

“Yes, but—” She simply hadn’t believed it. Baffled, she shifted, studied Maureen’s pretty face. “And that’s just dandy with you? That’s just fine? And you—” She pointed at Colleen. “You’re a police officer. Your brother steals. How do you resolve the two?”

“He’s retiring.” Colleen lifted her shoulders. “A little behind schedule.”

“I don’t understand.” She pressed her lifted hands to her head. “You’re his mother. How can you encourage him to break the law?”

“Encourage?” Maureen gave that rich laugh again. “Who had to encourage him?” Deciding to give her guest the courtesy of an explanation, she set down her dishcloth. “Do you believe in God?”

“What? What does that have to do with this?”

“Don’t argue, just answer. Do you believe in God?”

Beside Miranda, Ryan grinned. She couldn’t know it, but when his mother used that tone it meant she’d decided she liked you.

“All right, yes.”

“When God gives you a gift, it’s a sin not to use it.”

Miranda closed her eyes a moment. “You’re saying that God gave Ryan a talent, and that it would be a sin for him not to break into buildings and steal?”

“God could’ve given him a gift for music, like He did my Mary Jo, who plays the piano like an angel. God gave him this gift instead.”

“Mrs. Boldari—”

“Don’t argue,” Ryan murmured. “You’ll just give yourself a headache.”

She scowled at him. “Mrs. Boldari,” she tried again, “I appreciate your loyalty to your son, but—”

“Do you know what he does with this gift?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“He buys this house for his family because the old neighborhood isn’t safe anymore.” She opened her arms to encompass the lovely kitchen, then wagged a finger. “He sees that his brothers and sisters get a college education. None of this would be. However hard Giorgio and I worked, you can’t send six kids to college on teachers’ salaries. God gave him a gift,” she said again, and rested her hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “You going to argue with God?”

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