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“So you told her off?” Clary said.
“She did.” Elton took a piece of chicken. “Then she sent Holly away and used me for some free labor.”
Grandma Moretti rolled her eyes. “I told him to help peel some potatoes.”
And probably shielded him from Holly’s wrath.
“You should’ve told Edward Eolenfeld what happened,” Elton said in a disgruntled voice.
Grandma Moretti leveled a firm, steady gaze on Elton. “I did, but Edward never did have much control over Holly.” Her chest rose. “I should’ve done more. I apologize.”
Elton’s chin jerked up at the apology. His eyes locked onto Grandma Moretti. For a moment, all he did was stare at her.
Then his throat bobbed and his cheeks hollowed as he drew in a breath. Eventually, he nodded.
Clary put her arm around Grandma Moretti’s shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze.
The rest of the conversation was cordial. Grandma Moretti asked Seth and his brothers about their work and life. Aldric and Clary were quick to talk about how Seth turned the abandoned warehouse into an apartment building.
Even Elton added that Seth had been the one to pay for their college education.
But despite all that, Seth couldn’t help but sense that none of what they had said would change Grandma Moretti’s stand or why she was actually here.
And Clary’s subdued attitude—her courtesy smiles and forced lightheartedness—pretty much confirmed his suspicion.
Despite the all-around cordiality, a storm was brewing.
* * *
“So, Seth,” Grandma Moretti turned her attention to him after she got the rest of his brothers to clear the plates.
Almost.
Zane refused to cooperate. He wasn’t leaving Seth at the dining table on his own, and that was it.
Here goes, Clary thought.
Others might not know Grandma Moretti, but Clary did.
She knew, about five minutes into the conversations, that her nonna wasn’t simply here to check in on her. For one thing, Grandma Moretti barely asked about her. So she already had whatever information she needed from Mr. E, or she didn’t care.
Regardless, it meant one thing: Tonight, Grandma Moretti was here for the Andersons.
More specifically—Seth.
But what exactly did she want from him? From how cordial her grandmother had been the entire dinner? Nothing good.
If Grandma Moretti was simply asking questions, Clary would be more relaxed. Seth wouldn’t like it, but surely he could handle it. But her nonna wasn’t in an interrogative mood. She was … polite.
Which was infinitely more dangerous.
Clary turned her face toward Grandma Moretti and whispered, “Nonna.” A warning.
And, perhaps, a plea.
Her nonna shot her a stay-out-of-this glare.
How could Clary do that?
