“I plan on making this my full-time home.” Grand smiles.
For a moment, I think he’s going to lift Grand’s hand and kiss it. And given the way she’s smiling back at him, he might even get away with it.
“Tell me where you’ve come from,” he says.
Grand blossoms under his attention. “Atlanta,” she replies, a bit of a Southern accent finding its way into her voice. Her eyelashes flutter in a decidedly un-Grand-like way. “My home there will be going on the market soon.”
“Do you golf, Lillian?” Brian asks.
“Why, yes. Yes, I do. Or, I guess I should say, I used to. It’s been a while.”
I shoot my grandmother a look of surprise. She hasn’t set foot on a golf course since my grandfather died.
“I’m not sure if you’ve had a chance yet to check it out, but there’s a par 3 next door. It’s just a community course but there’s a putting green and a driving range. It’s a great place to get one’s game back. There’s also a playground and picnic area for grand- and great-grandkids as well as tennis and pickleball courts.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I know the golf pro there. I’d be glad to introduce you. Or if you prefer, I’d be glad to go play a round with you and help ease you back into the game.”
I’ve never heard golf sound quite so seductive before, but Grand says only, “That’s very kind of you.” Her smile is so bright, it takes me a moment to realize she has not committed or declined. Who is this woman and what has she done with my grandmother?
“Right, then.” Myra excuses the three of us and we move on.
“That,” I say when we’re out of earshot, “is anextremelyattractive man.”
Grand blushes, which is yet another thing I’ve never seen her do.
“That he is,” Myra agrees. “He’s been a widower for almost a decade. I’ve seen lots of women here set their cap for him, but I’ve never seen him show that kind of interest before.”
Grand blushes again. “I’m sure he was just being friendly.”
“He certainly was, Grand. But I’m with Myra, he was definitely flirting with you.” I’m still trying to absorb it. I’ve never seen Grand flirt with anyone but my grandfather, and it’s more than a little disturbing.
We finish making the rounds with Myra, and even though I’m still surprised by the number of people who can’t seem to separate me from the fictional Cassie and the fact that she should not be drinking alcohol, I’m glad that Grand is going to be a part of this community.
It’s 9:00 p.m. by the time Myra, Grand, and I leave themixer. When we reach her town house, Myra hugs us both good night and heads into her place. When we get to Grand’s, we wander out onto the balcony and watch the occasional boat cruise by with its running lights reflecting off the dark water.
The three palms behind Grand’s unit sway slightly in the breeze.
“I already love it here,” Grand says softly. “I hope your mother will come to understand. For the first time since your grandfather died, I feel like I can breathe again.”
Eight
I wake up the nextmorning to the sound of a text dinging in, and it takes me a few minutes to remember where I am and why. Grand’s guest room is small enough to be cozy, and the wood shutters have kept out the morning sun, which is a very good thing. By the time I’ve stretched and convinced myself to get out of bed, it’s 10:00 a.m.
The text is from Kyra asking whether Grand and I would like to come downtown to see the progress on the YMCA reno and then maybe grab lunch.
I pad downstairs to the kitchen, where Grand is already dressed and sipping a cup of coffee. Sunlight pours in from the wall of sliders and the kitchen windows. I yawn and blink the rest of the way awake.
“Did you sleep okay?” she asks.
“It was heavenly.” I yawn. “How about you?”
“I’ll be glad when I have my own things around me and my own bed underneath me,” Grand says. “But overall, I slept just fine.”
We sip our coffee in a companionable silence before Grand gets up and puts muffins on a plate, hands me two small bowls of fruit, and motions me to the dining room table. “It’s a bit chilly to sit out on the balcony just now, but at least here we can still enjoy the view.”
“It is gorgeous,” I say as I settle in a chair facing the water and take a sip of coffee. As if on cue, boats begin to motor and sail by. Then I take a big bite out of my chocolate muffin because not dieting is still the only positive that’s come out of getting booted offMurder 101.
