Page 17 of A Summer Mismatch
“They letyouin,” Nonna pointed out. This was the most fire Logan had seen from her in just over a year. Nonna never let anyone, even Grandpa, push her around. She wasn’t afraid to put people in their place if need be.
“Proves my point then,” Grandpa said with a smirk.
“Oh you.” Nonna waved her napkin toward him. “Don’t get me going just because it amuses you.”
“I’m sorry, mi amore.” He leaned across the table and took her hand. “Maybe if you weren’t so bellissima when you’re angry.”
Nonna had been born in Italy, but her family moved to America when she was only two years old, where her father became a professor at Northwestern University. Grandpa always said he’d fallen for her because of her fiery Italian spirit, and he couldn’t resist getting a rise out of her.
Grandpa grew up in small-town Missouri, on a farm, and didn’t have a single drop of Italian in him, but Nonna had taught him some words over the years.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to live here,” Grandpa said, more seriously—and quieter—this time. “Maybe we should look somewhere else.”
Logan’s heart dropped. He needed his grandparents close. He was relying on them to help with his family, help everyone heal. He needed dinners like this, and he needed them to be a stabilizing influence on his dad and sister. If he had to find this Horace Rees himself and tell the man to back off so his grandparents could live here in peace, he would.
“Let’s not be extreme,” Nonna said, a worried cut to her brow.
“Excuse me.” An older man in a tartan hat approached the table. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have a favor to ask.”
“Oh?” Nonna looked pleased to have someone approach them. “What do you need?”
The man whipped off his hat to reveal a balding pate. His wide eyes blinked behind his round glasses. “I should introduce myself. I’m Harry.”
“Lydia Byrd, and this is my husband, Smitty, and our grandson, Logan.”
Grandpa rose from his chair to shake the man’s hand, and Logan followed suit.
Harry motioned for them to sit. “My wife, Ginny, and I have wanted to come meet you and bring by a welcome gift, but we’ve had some… things occupying our time.”
“Everyone here has been very friendly so far,” Nonna assured him.
“Everyone?” Grandpa questioned under his breath, and by his quick jerk and exhale, Logan figured Nonna had kicked Grandpa under the table.
Harry cleared his throat. “I’ve gotten myself into a pickle, and I saw your grandson, here, and hoped he could lend me a quick hand.”
“Sure thing,” Logan said, setting his napkin on his plate. “What do you need?”
“I’m a collector. I like to get all kinds of things. And usually I keep them small—antique kitchen items, rare coins, that kind of thing. This time, I found a grandfather clock from the nineteen twenties that I couldn’t pass up. The antique store helped me load it in my car, but I didn’t factor in how I’d get it into my house.” He turned to Nonna. “And then I saw your grandson, and I hoped…”
“Yes, of course, I can help.” Logan stood, then looked at Nonna and Grandpa. “Do you two mind?”
“No,” Grandpa said. “You go ahead. I’ll probably eat your dessert though.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Nonna chided him, and Logan fought back his smile as he left them playfully bickering.
He followed Harry down the road to his luxury SUV where a strong, elderly gentleman also stood. “Don,” the man introduced himself, taking Logan’s hand in a crushing grip. “It’s going to take the both of us to get this monster inside his house.”
“Okay.” Logan grabbed one end of the heavy grandfather clock and walked backward while Don took the other and they pulled it from the SUV like uncorking a bottle.
“Careful!” Harry warned them. “This is priceless.”
”Is it, though?” a woman asked, startling Logan. She stood at the other side of the SUV, and Logan hadn’t noticed her before now. She had black hair and a sassy smile that reminded him of his Nonna’s. “Youdidpay a price for it just this afternoon.”
“It’s priceless in principle,” Harry responded.
“I’m going to put that on my dating profile.”
“You have a dating profile, Polly?” Don asked, not even sounding winded.
