Hand-in-hand, they crossed the pavers. The sun had set behind them, casting a golden light on Betty’s slightly red face.
Maggie squinted at her. Was that from rage or radiation? Was this the cancer finally showing itself?
Betty didn’t give them a chance to ask.
“I cannot believe the two of you went along with this cockamamie scheme,” she snapped, jabbing a finger toward the T-bird. “What were you thinking?”
Jo Ellen blinked. “Um…that it was your dream car and Frank asked us to help surprise you?”
Betty turned slowly toward her husband with a glare that could have stripped wallpaper. “Mydream car? Really, Frank?”
He looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought you’d love it.”
“You thoughtI’dlove it?” Her voice rose an octave. “You thought a little red speed trap with no cupholders and a trunk the size of a cereal box would make me swoon? You probably thought it’d make you look so sexy I’d do more of…you know.”
“Betty,” Frank hissed, glancing up toward the house. “There are people?—”
“Well, it didn’t!” she exclaimed. “You know what this bad decisiondiddo? It made me throw my back out when you stalled three times between here and Santa Rosa Beach. You can’t even drive a stick shift, Frank!”
Maggie’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “We, uh, we thought it was what you wanted. You know, before you…uh…”
“Before I what?” Betty narrowed her eyes.
Jo Ellen shot Maggie a look that saiddon’t you dare.
Maggie stammered. “Before you…had to slow down?”
Betty’s hands flew to her hips. “Because I’m old?”
“No!” Maggie said quickly. “Because you’re sick.”
A pause. Frank’s eyes widened. Betty’s jaw dropped.
Jo Ellen stepped in, voice gentle. “We know you’re not telling people. We saw the medications. We saw how tired you looked. We figured it was serious. Life-threatening, even.”
Betty blinked. “Serious?”
Maggie nodded. “The pills, the hugging at the chemo center?—”
Betty let out a choking noise that sounded like a laugh and a scoff collided mid-throat. “Mymeds? That was for a UTI!”
Maggie blinked. “Excuse me?”
“A urinary tract infection. Which I wouldn’t have gotten if my husband wasn’t so…you know.Busy.”
Frank turned crimson. “Betty.”
“Well, it’s true! We were trying to spice things up. He read an article inAARPmagazine and the next thing you know, I’m pretending to be a French maid.”
Jo Ellen looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Wait. Are you telling me all this drama was over a UTI?”
Betty folded her arms. “Blame him.”
“But the chemo place!” Maggie choked the words. “We saw youhugging and cryingat a cancer center!”
Betty rolled her eyes. “My friend Miriam from old-lady Pilates started chemo and asked me to go with her. I decided to bring her my Italian wedding cookies—people loved them, so I visit with a couple dozen every week. I made friends. We lost one. It got emotional. Wait. You thought I hadcancer?”
“Well! Yes!” Maggie sputtered. “Why else would Frank order us on a covert car pickup mission to Miami?”
