Jell-O.
She’d been eating Jell-O for days.
Or at least hours. Jill had definitely been eating Jell-O for hours.
And it was freaking fantastic.
At least until the last nurse had brought her the orange kind. She started to hand it to Elena who was sitting in the chair to her right, but Elena didn’t look up from her magazine, and merely pointed across the bed to Ava.
Jill handed the orange Jell-O to Ava, who plucked it out of Jill’s hand with a tsking noise. “Now how can they expect you to get better on orange Jell-O?”
“I know,” Jill pouted. “Don’t they know I was drugged with dog tranquilizers?”
“The indignity. I can’t even. I’ll take care of this straightaway.” Ava handed the orange Jell-O cup to Luc. “Luc, take care of this. Straightaway.”
He stared at the cup in his hand before shooting a puzzled look at the women. “And by take care of this, you mean…”
“Get her red Jell-O,” Maggie said from the chair in the corner. “Obviously.”
Luc glanced at Anthony with a what-the-fuck expression, but Anth held up his hands and shook his head. “Hey, man. She’s right about the dog tranquilizer. Maybe it made her weird. Weird-er.”
“Heard that,” Jill said, shooting a finger pistol at Anthony. “And for the record, I liked red Jell-O before that old lady tricked me into taking doggie sedatives.”
“Everyone likes red Jell-O,” Elena pointed out. “It’s pretty much the only Jell-O worth eating.”
“I like green Jell-O myself.”
Jill glanced at the door and grinned when she saw the Moretti grandmother. “Nonna!”
“There’s my girl,” Nonna said, moving toward the bed and giving Jill a none-too-gentle hug. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it here earlier. I had another of those dang colds. Boogers the size of—”
“Nonna, for the love of God,” Luc said. “Not after you just talked about preferring green Jell-O. Actually, not ever.”
Nonna ignored her grandson as she studied Jill with a slight frown. “So where is the old biddy that landed you in this horrible place, and got you dressed in that ugly gown that makes your boobs look like pancakes?”
Anthony grabbed the Jell-O cup out of Luc’s hand. “I’m going to go find the red Jell-O.”
“I’ll help!” Luc said, half running after his brother.
Jill glanced down at the gown. “Not my best look, huh? And as for that biddy… still on the run.”
Nonna huffed and shoved Ava out of the chair so she could sit down. “I’m not surprised. Everyone underestimates us old farts, but we can be surprisingly crafty. A wobbly hand and a shaky voice are all it takes to do surprising misdeeds.”
Yikes.
Jill plucked at the hospital blanket, remembering all too well how Dorothy had played her with the shaking hand routine. She’d replayed yesterday over and over—at least the parts she could remember—and had concluded that Dorothy must have drugged her first cup of tea while she was still in the kitchen, and then the second cup of tea when Jill had looked away to let the elderly woman save her pride.
Idiot. She’d been such an idiot.
The nurse came back into the room, carrying a tray with three red Jell-O cups (Anthony and Luc must have played the cop card) and an exaggerated smile. “I hate to keep doing this, but there’s a limit on how many visitors can be in here…”
“Why?” Nonna asked, turning around to stare at the nurse. “You think anyone died of too much well-wishing?”
“It’s hospital policy, Nonna,” Maggie explained, rubbing a hand over her belly and taking pity on the poor nurse. “We’re all taking turns. Mom and Dad headed out so that Luc and Anth could come in.”
Nonna grunted, turning back to Jill. “Who cares about those grandsons? Where’s the one that matters?”
The room fell silent. Even the nurse seemed to understand that this was a Forbidden Question, and quietly set the Jell-O cups on Jill’s table before leaving the room. She didn’t even warn them again about visitor overload.
Jill swallowed and opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“Vincent’s trying to track down Dorothy Birch,” Ava explained quietly.
“Why?” Nonna demanded with her usual candor. “His partner’s laid up being served orange Jell-O, and he can’t find someone else to track down a ninety-year-old woman?”
“She’s sixty-six,” Jill corrected quietly. As though that was what was important right now.
Nonna stood, putting hands on her bony hips. “That boy may be my blood, but I’d strangle him if he were here right now. I’d sit him down and make him hear all about my boogers. And my phlegm. I’d tell him about how my phlegm was multicolored this morning. And then I’d go and find that Tom—that nice, handsome, but maybe wrong-for-you Tom, and I’d bring him here and tell him to put that pretty ring back on your finger, because at least Tom—”
“Nonna, if you bring Tom into this hospital room, or anywhere near Jill, I’ll put your bony ass in a home where they don’t serve any Jell-O.”