“He’s a mobster.”
“What?”
“That’s ridiculous.” Yiayia tapped Gramma Finnie’s arm lightly. “He ran a landscaping company in Sweetheart Springs for decades, and now his sons own it, and his grandchildren work there. Does that sound like Tony Soprano to you?”
“Seamus knew him,” Gramma Finnie said, referring to her late husband. “And he heard all the talk.”
“Talk.” Yiayia spat the word. “All because the man has an Italian last name. Have you ever heard anything so wrong and judgmental, Pru?”
Not from Gramma Finnie. “So, you’re interested in someone who’s not Greek, Yiayia?” This could be the most stunning news of all.
“Italy is a neighbor to Greece. We’re all Mediterranean.”
A stretch for a woman who named her dogs Pygmalion and Galatea and believed Greece was not only the birthplace of civilization, but the center of the world. “What’s his name?” she asked.
“Aldo Fiore.” Just saying it brought a smile to Yiayia’s lips. “Isn’t it poetic?”
“If you like Mafia movies,” Gramma Finnie muttered.
“Fiore means flower,” Yiayia added. “Isn’t that perfect for a man who spent his life growing gardens?”
“Unless someone finds themselves six feet under his rosebushes,” Gramma Finnie added.
“Are you jealous, Gramma Finnie?” It was the only explanation, since Pru could count on one hand the times she’d ever heard her beloved great-grandmother say anything negative about anyone on the earth. If she did, it was most likely cloaked in an Irish proverb about sinners and saints and luck and love.
“Nonsense, lass. I’m protective, is all. Agnes is a woman of some means, and I don’t want to see her…hurt.”
Agnes Santorini might not be dead broke, but she certainly wasn’t a “woman of some means.” And hurt? Pru pitied the poor guy who got sliced by that steel-edged tongue.
For her part, Yiayia just lifted a carefully filled-in brow. “You were right the first time, Pru. She’s jealous that I found a man and she didn’t. Not unlike how you feel about your friends spending the day with their boyfriends.”
“I’m not…” Pru’s voice faded. Yeah, she was jealous.
But Gramma Finnie shook her head hard enough to flutter her soft white hair. “Agnes! That’s not fair. I just don’t want you gettin’ involved with a man who could break your heart.”
“I’m too smart to have my heart broken,” Yiayia declared. “But I don’t want life to pass me by without remembering the feeling of holding a man’s hand as we step out for a date. Or his lips on mine at the end of the evening. Is that so wrong?”
When Gramma didn’t answer, Yiayia turned to Pru. “Is it?” she demanded.
“I wouldn’t mind a date and a kiss,” Pru agreed, having reached sixteen without having either one, though she was too ashamed to say that out loud. “But what I do mind is you two fighting. This is killing me.”
The two grannies looked at each other, sighing deeply.
“And you know what else I can’t take?” Pru asked. “The idea that you would go on this Christmas Eve adventure and not take me along!”
“But you have to do Random Acts of Christmas Kindness, lass,” Gramma Finnie said. “This RACK project is too important to you. You’ve worked so hard on all the details, and it’s the last day. Points are tallied tonight at midnight.”
“And we don’t know Aldo’s Santa schedule,” Yiayia added. “We were just going to pretend to be shoppers and see if we can watch him in action with the kids.”
“You can tell a lot about a man by how he interacts with children,” Gramma Finnie said.
“And if he makes them an offer they can’t refuse.” Pru poked Yiayia playfully.
But Yiayia wasn’t laughing. “I need you on my side, Prudence.”
“There aren’t sides,” Pru said, gathering up her bag. “But you do need a cool head on this mission. I can easily do my random acts all over the mall. I get to spend Christmas Eve with my favorite Dogmothers—and pups.” She gave the doxies some head rubs. “And I don’t have to see half of Bitter Bark High hooked up with the other half.”
“Are you sure?” Yiayia asked.
“We won’t kill each other, lass.”
“You might. Just let me make my speech to the kids who are in the square and make sure they understand the rules and know exactly how to send their pictures to the judges using the app or we won’t get points. If you guys run the registration table, you can check off the teams as they arrive. Oh, and give everyone a list of suggested acts, because they’re all too lame or in love to figure them out for themselves. Then we can head on over to Vestal Village Mall for some Santa stalking.”
“And that’s why they call her General Pru,” Yiayia said, lifting her knuckles for a three-way fist bump.
And just like that, Pru forgot her disappointment. Who needed a boyfriend when she had the world’s most fun grannies and a clandestine adventure on Christmas Eve?
Chapter Two
“You got yourself a fine great-granddaughter,” Agnes said as she laid out the list of RACK teams Pru had given them, settling in at the registration table and pulling her jacket a little tighter against the cold.
“She’s a good lass.” Finnie straightened a pile of papers that said Suggested Random Acts of Christmas Kindness…RACK UP POINTS! at the top. “I’m glad she’s coming with us today.”
“You’d think she’d want to spend the day with kids her own age,” Yiayia mused, nodding to acknowledge a family as they walked through the festive archways topping the square’s entrance, two children with them running to greet the elves around Santa’s sleigh. “But she always puts family first.”
“That’s how she was raised.” Finnie took off her glasses and found a hankie in her coat pocket, taking a swipe over each lens. “The whole Kilcannon clan is a family-first group, and I believe that’s something to be admired.”
“True enough, but a girl that young and pretty should have some fun, not babysit a couple of crazy old grandmothers. Not that I’m old.” Agnes slipped her phone from her bag and tapped the screen, then scrolled, squinting at the blurry words.
“But you are crazy. Here.” Finnie held out her glasses. “Since you are old and too vain to wear your own.”
“I only need them for reading.”
“Then just look through the bottom part, and it’ll help you find…who you’re looking for.”
Agnes took the glasses with a smile. “How do you know I’m looking for him?”
“Because it’s all you’ve done for a week since that thing first dinged with a match.”
“So shoot me for getting a little happy, Finnie. Oh, look, he changed his Single ‘n’ Silver picture to one of him in his Santa costume.” She angled the phone. “Does he look like John Gotti to you?”
“All he needs are some prison stripes.” Finnie’s eyes danced with mirth just as two high school girls stopped by the table and asked for the RACK suggestions.