Page 10 of Cozen

Pearl smiled. “You would be right. I am ninety-five. I have outlived my husband, three of my children, and six dogs. I am on my fourth Persian cat at the moment—you saw her. I call her Sweetness.”

“She did not look very sweet.”

“Because she isn’t. I like to surprise people.”

“You’re older than the Queen of England.”

Pearl nodded. “And richer than the bitch, too, darling.”

Cozen smiled widely, unable to stop herself. Laughter lit up the estate from the men. None of them seemed particularly surprised by Pearl’s quick wit.

She learned something in that moment.

Age meant nothing.

“Shoo,” Pearl said to the gathered men. She flicked a jewel-covered hand. “Leave us alone for a while.”

“Grandmamma,” Remington started to say.

“Oh, go, Rem. I can do this myself.”

Fourth and Ace were already pushing out of their chairs without needed to be told. Pearl and Remington the Third passed another look between one another before the man followed behind his son, and the broker he called in for this deal.

Or rather, the broker Pearl called in.

“Sit,” the old woman said, gesturing at the seat across from hers.

Cozen sat. “I hear you need a thief.”

Pearl tapped a weathered finger against the side of her cheek. “I have needed one for two decades, darling.”

“And you’re only now calling one in?”

“I gave her the chance to return it.”

“Her?”

Pearl sighed, leaned forward, and snatched up a yellow folder on the glass table in front of the sectional. Flipping it open, the old woman perused the contents of the folder before seemingly settling on one.

“Her,” Pearl said, turning a photo over to show Cozen. The woman in the photograph was beautiful for her age. A dark haired, and brown-eyed beauty who looked to be closer to Remington’s age. In her fifties, or so. “My granddaughter.”

Cozen’s brow furrowed. “She looks like—”

“She is Rem’s sister—was.”

“Was.”

Pearl cleared her throat, and set the photo aside on the seat. “She died four months ago. Cancer in her blood, or so we were told. We only know what we hear through the grapevine, as she made her choices, and we were forced to make ours.”

“What choices were those?”

The old woman’s eyes hardened. “I will let you in on a little secret about the Astors, Cozen. We have rules—many rules. One of them is to never let our name fall. We never hand it over, and we never give it up.”

“And she did that?”

Pearl waved jeweled fingers as if to dismiss the question. “She married Jett Griffin.”

“I don’t understand how that breaks the rule you mentioned.”