Melody shrugged. “You could steal it.”
Laurie shook her head. “I don’t know where it is.”
“Even if you did,” Daisy said, “that would just make it look more like it was your fault. Like you were the con artist, not him. That would almost make it easier for him to go on the offense, if you took it.”
June nodded. “You really need him to con himself.”
Nick frowned. “Meaning?”
“Well,” June continued, “you need him to return the duck in a way that takes advantage of the fact that he’s a trash can. The fact that he’s a trash can has to be how he winds up giving it back.”
Laurie started tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair. “Something where he does something dishonest, so that he can’t report it to anybody.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard to get him to do something dishonest,” June said.
Daisy nodded. “It won’t be. I sat there once while he called and extorted a Taco Bell for a free lunch by claiming he found a nail clipping in a quesadilla.”
“Gross,” Melody said with a full-body shudder.
“I have to think about this,” Laurie said. “I have to think about what to do. I also have to figure out whether Dot actually knew this guy and whether he really made the duck. The only thing worse than what’s already happened would be going to a lot of trouble to get it back and finding out she really did get it in an airport. I also have to try to figure out what he’s going to do with it. I mean, sell it, obviously, but I don’t know where.”
“You know,” Daisy said, “he keeps all his messages on that iPad. If we could look at it, we might be able to figure out what his plan is. He knows all kinds of sketchy dudes, but I don’t know which one he would go to for this. I don’t know that he specifically has a sketchy duck dude.” She stretched out her leg, and Laurie saw that on her ankle, there was another tattoo, a simple line design, just like the sun on her arm.
“Is that a…daisy?” she asked, nodding toward it. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Yeah. Daisy Sun, get it? People think it’s basic.” Daisy rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“It is basic,” Melody said. “But it’s also cute, so who cares?”
“I ignore people with opinions, generally,” Daisy said. “Particularly opinions about the way I should look.”
“Me too,” Laurie agreed. “Believe me, if you walk into a sporting goods store and tell them you want a piece of gear in a women’s eighteen, they look at you like you just asked for a scuba suit for a horse.”
June looked at Laurie. “How do we look at that iPad without him freaking out?”
“I don’t know.” She took out her phone. “But I’m going to make an effort.”
Hi Matt! It’s Laurie Sassalyn. Would you have any time in the next few days to help me with something else over here at Dot’s?
“Well, now I guess I’m committed,” she said, putting it back down.
“Committed to being a spy!” June nearly chirped. “It’s exciting!” She paused. “I have small children,” she said. “I get very amped up about things that aren’t related to Bluey.”
“Hey, Bluey is boss,” Daisy said. “We watch Bluey all the time. And I’m amped up about anything that’s going to cost this stink-rat a lot of money.”
Laurie’s phone gave a ding. Oh, hello, Matt. Of course! Monday okay? Around 3PM?
Perfect, she texted back. She turned to her team. “We’re on.”
The gathering lasted until almost midnight. Daisy nudged Melody until she sang a bit of a song she had written that sounded a little Joni-Mitchell-y, while Daisy mouthed all the words. Nick rattled off stories of his favorite moments spent interrupting library patrons who were having sex （alone or together） or surreptitiously researching what they considered taboo subjects. （“Kids google sex stuff so much,” he said. “Just so much. And they always, always think I’m going to be surprised.”） June and Laurie shared the cat-skeleton story with their new allies. And eventually, when someone looked at their phone and said it was 11:40, there were quick hugs and promises to talk soon. And when they were all gone, Laurie sat on the chaise alone, looking at the stars and finishing the last half-glass of wine. “Okay,” she said into the blue-black night. “Okay.”
Chapter Twelve
Ginger Buckley, Nick’s grandmother, was eighty-six. She’d grown up in western Massachusetts, but she married a man from Lexington, Kentucky, who made a success of a very special product called Smokewater Whiskey. After he died, Ginger followed one of her daughters to Maine, where she’d settled with her husband to raise their kids—including future librarian Nick Cooper. Ginger moved into a decommissioned lighthouse, started adopting greyhounds, and bought a minor league baseball team. Her nineteen grandkids, now ranging in age from high school to Nick, came and went from Calcasset and from her house, kissing her cheeks and bringing her gifts and taking her out to eat, and she helped with college and down payments for houses, and sometimes even travel when she could. She’d sent Nick and Becca on their honeymoon to Melbourne, according to June.