Finnie’s mouth dropped with disappointment. “But how would she know that?”
“By doing what those fake people do. They ask the right questions and make intelligent deductions that appear to be mind-reading. She’s no different than those people on TV who claim to talk to dead relatives. But she’s pretty, I’ll give you that.”
“Pretty enough for Theo?”
Agnes sat up, suddenly realizing what her friend was suggesting. “For Theo?”
“I know, she’d have to be Miss America for Theo.”
Agnes curled her lip, looking at the girl, trying to find a flaw other than claiming to read animals’ minds. “Well, she’s dressed for a day of dumpster diving. And would it kill her to throw on a little blush and lipstick?”
“Agnes,” Finnie said softly, adding the look that always accompanied that gentle reminder.
Fine. But this was Theo they were talking about. “Not sure she’s quite what I have in mind for my grandson.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Finnie countered. “I think the lass has an air of elegant sweetness about her.”
“There’s nothing elegant about those ghastly boots.”
“Anyone who can connect with animals probably has a good heart,” Finnie continued, undaunted. “And the clothes are borrowed. What other problems do you find?”
Of course Finnie would see only the good and positive in everyone and everything.
“He’s too smart for a charlatan psychic mind reader, Finnie,” Agnes insisted. “He needs someone of equal intelligence, an impressive career, and maybe wider hips for childbearing.”
“Perhaps we should search available royalty for His Highness Prince Theodore.”
“Théodoros,” she corrected. “And perhaps we should. Or at least get our matchmaking efforts back to Ella. That girl is not getting any younger, you know.”
“Don’t you want him to stay here in Bitter Bark?”
“Oh, yes. A girl can dream, right?” Agnes sighed with joy at the thought of her darling Theo only minutes away. “But he must find someone extraordinary. Not some common…fortune teller.”
“Ye make no sense to me, lass,” Finnie mused. “Why not give her a chance?”
“I think she’s a fake. A fraud. A schemer. A con. What about that doesn’t make sense?”
“Agnes, you’ve had a near-death experience! You literally walked through the gates of heaven—with a dog, if I recall your story correctly—and returned a changed woman.”
“Not that changed. I’m still working on being nice.” A challenge dear Finnie had taken to heart as one of her primary reasons for living.
And maybe Finnie’s constant reminders were working. Aldo thought Agnes was nice. He said so all the time. Had anyone ever called her nice? She couldn’t remember anyone, not even her dearly departed Nic, describing her as nice.
It was…nice.
“Then how could you think this woman’s gift is that far-fetched?” Finnie demanded. “You’ve actually been to the other side.”
Finnie had a point, but Agnes wasn’t completely ready to concede. After all, this was her Theo. “I thought we’d save Theo for our last match.”
“We might have a lot more matches, dear Agnes.”
Looking ahead, she could feel Finnie’s unwavering blue-eyed stare on her cheek. Finally, Agnes turned and met that gaze.
“Nick, Theo, and Ella,” Agnes said. “Unless you think we should spread our wings and give your daughter, Colleen, a try? Otherwise, between us and Daniel? We’ve married off the family. The Dogmothers can retire like normal women our age.”
“We’ve matched this family,” Finnie said. “But there could be another one. A big…Italian family. Aldo has grandchildren, and they could be…yours.”
Agnes jerked back with a gasp. “I’m not going to marry him, Finola Kilcannon!”
Finnie looked a little too smug, and she angled her white-haired head and wiggled her brows. “Never say never, Agnes Santorini.”
“We’re friends. Nothing more.”
“Kissing friends.”
“Fine, we kissed good night at the door last night. We weren’t making out like teenagers. We pecked.” Maybe a little more than a peck, but Finnie didn’t need to know that because…an Italian family? “That’s simply not in the cards.”
“It might be.” Finnie added a slightly yellowed saucy grin. “We could ask the fortune teller.”
When Agnes laughed, Finnie reached her knotted, spotted hand over to touch Agnes’s arm. “Give the lass a chance today. Maybe you’ll come around. Maybe you’ll realize that Marie brought us the answer to our prayers.”
“I did?” Marie Boswell’s gravelly voice came through the open sliding door that led into the house, and then the woman stepped out, her deep blue eyes pinned on Agnes. “So you like the idea of a talented pet psychic, huh? Is it Pyggie or Gala who needs what my sweet Ayla is offering?”
“’Tisn’t a four-legged creature we’re thinking of,” Finnie said, waving Marie over to where they sat, then flipping her hand to point to Theo, still glued to the ground, talking to the young woman in question.
“Ahhh.” Marie eyed the couple as Theo stood. “He is quite a specimen, I’ll give you that.”
Agnes shot her a look. “That’s my grandson you’re ogling.”
“And your favorite,” Marie fired back. “Cassie told me. You really shouldn’t have favorites in a family this big.” She took one more look. “I certainly can see the appeal. Big. Handsome. Strong.”
“Brilliant. Kind. And has a true appreciation for food.” Agnes smiled, knowing that last one was an understatement. Maybe that’s why she loved Theo so much—he adored her cooking.
“The lass would have to be blind and broken not to notice,” Finnie added.
“She’s not blind,” Marie said, dropping onto the sofa across from them, looking from one to the other. “But broken? Yes, she’s had a heartache,” she added. “A very bad one. I don’t know if she’s ready for the kind of shenanigans the Dogmothers are famous for.”
Finnie and Agnes shared a look. “Shenanigans?” they asked in unison.
“Like the wedding we’re all going to in a few weeks,” Marie reminded them.
“John and Summer?” Agnes asked, then smiled. “That was an easy one. Did we shenani…gate?”
Finnie laughed. “You practically lassoed Summer the minute she showed up at Santorini’s Deli, and then you started singing Yianni’s praises like the church choir.”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
“And Declan?” Marie asked.
This time, Finnie snorted. “Agnes hid their twenty-year-old promise in the piano keys.”
“I did,” she admitted with a smile. “But you left your bag at the winery to get Alex to go back and see Grace.”
For a moment, they looked at each other, familiar, loving smiles pulling. “We’re good, Finn.”
“’Tis true,” Finnie agreed. “We should be known as the Shenanigators instead of the Dogmothers.”