“He’s a bad risk. He probably can’t even get it up.”
“Now that is enough,” Molly snapped. “You should be ashamed.”
“Ishould be ashamed. I’m not the old man trolling for someone to push his wheelchair.”
“I never thought I’d see the day when my daughter was prejudiced.”
“Oh, come on, Mom,” Ava said in disgust.
“You are. Aging happens to us all. It’s happening to me.”
“You’re not that old,” Ava protested. “Mom, you already buried one husband. Do you want to bury another?”
“Oh, honey, he could as easily outlive me. Don’t you get it? This is a golden time. I’ve found romance again after all these years on my own. I’m with a good man and I’m having a good time. Do you honestly want me to give that up?”
Her daughter’s, “No,” sounded reluctant.
“No one knows how long they’ll live. No one has any guarantees that life will be perfect. You know that. You’ve had your share of disappointments, relationships that didn’t work out. You are well aware of how hard it is to find someone worth giving your heart to. I have, and right now my life is darn close to perfect. I don’t want you messing that up with all your disapproval and dire predictions.”
Ava sighed heavily. “I’m not trying to make you miserable.”
“I know. You are, though, and I need you to stop raining on my parade. Okay?”
There was silence on Ava’s end.
“Okay?” Molly prompted again.
“Okay.”
“Please make an effort to be nice to him.”
“I will,” Ava promised. “Anyway, it’s your life.”
The same thing Molly had said more than once to her. “You’re right. It is. And I intend to enjoy it.”
And if Ava would truly give Reggie a chance, they could all enjoy it together.
Alden was at work when his past came into the emergency room. It was all he could do not to squeak, “Cynthia?” when he saw the admission papers. Oh, no, of all the emergency rooms in all the world.
“Oh, Alden, thank God,” she said as she entered the screening room.
Thanking God for him? There was a new one.
“I think I’m having a heart attack,” she said.
There was no history of heart problems in her family, and she didn’t look like a woman in the middle of a heart attack. No sweating and her coloring was good. She didn’t look like she was dizzy.
But it wasn’t his job to diagnose her. His job was to take her vitals, get her hooked up to an EKG monitor and get a reading.
Her oxygen looked good, but her pulse was slightly elevated. “Are you dizzy?” he asked.
“No. Should I be?” she asked, her voice rising.
“I just need to find out how you’re feeling.”
“My chest hurts, that’s how I’m feeling!”
“Okay, we’re gonna get you all checked out,” he said, keeping his own voice level.
