On Second Thought(81)

“Okay.” I started to get up, then sat back down. “Jonathan, I won’t be going to DWI anymore. That’s your group, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

His eyes flickered. “I appreciate that.”

“I am having a makeover party with Carly and Marley and Henry tomorrow night, though. You’re more than welcome to come.”

His mouth pulled up just the slightest bit on one side, and I felt a strange tug in my stomach. “I’ll pass, but thank you for the offer.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out his handkerchief from Friday night, which I’d washed and ironed yesterday. “Nice and clean,” I said, putting it on the desk.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Okay, all this civility was getting awkward. I stood up and went back to my cubicle. For once, I was relieved to get working.

My cheeks still felt hot.

I opened my email and found a message from Gram-Gram, typed all in capital letters and 18-point font because it was getting hard for her to see.

DEAR AINSLEY, I HOPE YOU OR KATE CAN TAKE ME TO A WAKE TONIGHT. WEAR SOMETHING PRETTY BECAUSE THERE ARE ALWAYS SINGLE MEN IN CASE YOU ARE READY TO MEET SOMEONE NEW.

Ah, Gram-Gram. She always had my back.

I AM ON THE LOOKOUT, TOO. GOD KNOWS I’M NOT MEETING ANYONE HERE. EVERY SINGLE MAN IN THIS PLACE HAS A LINE OUT THE DOOR, AND TRYING TO SIT NEXT TO THEM AT DINNER IS A BLOOD SPORT. OR THEY ARE DYING! XOXOXOX GRAM-GRAM.

I emailed that I’d be happy to go to the wake with her, not to ask Kate and that I’d pick her up at 5:30.

Then I got to work on some ideas for Christmas stories that weren’t too similar to all the Christmas stories Hudson Lifestyle had done in the past.

*

At 4:00, Rachelle buzzed me. “Your beautiful grandmother is here to see you!” she sang. Gram-Gram was universally adored.

I went out to the foyer. “Hey, Gram-Gram! What are you doing here?”

“For the wake, sweetheart. Oh, don’t you look pretty! You’ll definitely find a nice boyfriend, I’m sure.” She patted my cheek. “Such firm skin! I remember those days!”

“Thanks, but I was going to pick you up at 5:30,” I said.

“You did?”

“I emailed you right back.”

“I forgot to check. Oh, dear.” She smiled happily. “Betty was coming downtown, so I asked her to drop me off.”

“Well, I don’t get off for an hour, Gram-Gram, and my boss is a little uptight about—”

“Hello.”

I closed my eyes. More trouble with Jonathan. “Gram-Gram, do you remember Jonathan Kent, my boss?”

“Hello, dear,” she said to him. “I love your hair!”

Jonathan gave me that look that told me he was suffering from sharp gastrointestinal pains caused by yours truly.

“My grandmother and I crossed signals, Jonathan,” I said. “I was going to pick her up for a wake, and she thought she was supposed to meet me here.”

“Calling hours started four minutes ago,” Gram-Gram said. “I wanted to get there before Anita Duran. She’s like a fox in the henhouse. Or a fox in the rooster house, as the case may be. She’ll have that poor widower’s pants around his knees before we even get in the door if we don’t leave right now, Ainsley.”

Rachelle clapped a hand over her mouth. Jonathan just kept staring at me.

“Then by all means, off you go,” he said.

“Thank you, Jonathan,” I muttered. “I’ll make up the time.”

“Yes. You will.”

“Ticktock, honey,” Gram-Gram said.

The deceased, Darleen Richmond, had quite a crowd. My grandmother pointed out an elderly woman with jet-black hair at the front of the line, holding the widower’s hand and patting it.

“Oh, that Anita!” Gram-Gram hissed, “She’s such a slut. I knew I should’ve picked you up at three.”

“Well, we’ll have our turn.” The line shuffled along. “So how did you know her?”

“Who?”

“The lady. The deceased.”

“Oh, I don’t know her,” Gram-Gram said blithely. “I’m just here to check out her husband. I read the obituary this morning.”

The woman in front of us turned around and scowled.

“Do you see anyone for yourself?” Gram-Gram asked, oblivious. “There are some handsome men here. Maybe someone for Kate, too.”

What the heck. I did a discreet check. “Anyone catch your fancy?” Gram-Gram asked.

I shook my head. Smiled awkwardly at one of the actual mourners.

“The night is young. Don’t give up!”

“Do you mind?” snapped the woman in front of us.

“No, dear, not at all,” Gram-Gram said. “Go ahead, it’s your turn. Don’t take too long, all right?” The mourner went up, and Gram-Gram turned to me. “Oh, goody! The widower is quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“Uh...sure.”

“By the way, someone asked me if I wanted to have sex on that little phone game of yours!”

“Inside voice, Gram-Gram.”

“I thought it was a little soon, so I suggested we have dinner, and guess what? He never wrote to me again! Oh, it’s our turn! Come on, honey!” She dragged me to the casket, barely paused and trotted over to the grieving widow. She hugged him tightly for a long, long minute.