Bo continued to hammer out the new garden shed Mrs. Malloy insisted she needed, pausing only to shoot her a wink. “Mrs. M., don’t be jealous. You’re still the love of my life.” She sniffed, set the fresh lemonade she’d made him on a sawhorse. Her hair remained a brilliant red, and she was wearing trendy amber-lensed sunglasses. And a floral bib apron. “You got a look in your eye, boy, tells me I’ve been replaced. I want to know about her.” “She’s beautiful.” “Tell me something I couldn’t figure out for myself.” He set aside the nail gun, picked up the lemonade. “She’s smart and funny and intense and sweet. Her eyes, they’re like a lioness, and she’s got this little mole, right here.” He tapped above his lip. “She comes from a big family. They run an Italian place in my neighborhood. She grew up there. Hey, maybe your brother knows her.
