“That’s a blizzard,” Ada Lou said with a nod. “A person better have what they need in their houses, because they will be stuck in their trailers or homes or wherever they can find warmth and food until it blows on through the place. Now, tell me: What put a smile on your face and that sparkle in your eyes?”
“My glass is more than half full.”
“What does that mean in English?” she asked. “I don’t speak all that metaphorical stuff.”
I told her to wait just one minute so I could put her order in. I crossed the room, stuck my head in the service window, and told Rosalie what Ada Lou wanted. Then I went back and sat down across from her. “You aren’t so old that you don’t know what it means. You don’t fool me one bit, Ada Lou.”
The wrinkles in her cheeks deepened when she smiled. “Okay, then I’ll rephrase: What is in your glass?”
“Peace,” I answered.
“Where did you get it?”
I told her the story of the two couples who had gotten off the bus that morning. “I’m not sure where the peace came from, but I’m glad it’s there.”
“That’s a good thing,” she said. “Don’t ever let anyone or anything take it away from you. Treat it like fine gold.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We have a new tenant at the RV park,” she said. “His name is Jackson Armstrong, and he took the last available spot. He comes from the Armstrong family, who has their hands in a lot of Texas pies, but mostly in oil. I looked them up on the internet.”
I played dumb. “How about that?”
“Good-lookin’ and rich. You should meet him,” Ada Lou said.
“Does he play poker?” I asked in an innocent voice.
“I wouldn’t know, but tell me this: How much peace was in your glass when you were playing every night?”
“I never measured,” I answered. “What does my glass have to do with your new tenant?”
“You got to look at life itself being at least half full. I’ve got this sexy-as-hell guy living only a few miles from you. If you meet him ... who knows. He might fill up your glass to overflowing.”
“Then I’d have a mess to clean up,” I said.
“You!” Ada Lou threw up her hands in exasperation.
“You didn’t tell me that you owned the RV park.”
She pointed a long, bony finger at me. “No, I didn’t. I bought it several years ago, and it’s been a very good investment, but don’t try to change the subject. I was talking about Jackson, who appears to be a nice guy. He’s right handsome and built like a weight lifter, and he’s got kind eyes and a gorgeous smile.”
To me, his green eyes were downright sexy.Kindhad never entered my mind—but then, there were fifty years between me and Ada Lou. Maybe when I was eighty and looking at a man like Jackson, I would think he had kind eyes. Thinking back to the day before, it could very well be that he was part of the reason I had a half-full glass.
But is it peace or just friendship that makes you happy?the voice in my head asked.
“Jerry Clower, one of my favorite comedians—may he rest in peace.” Ada Lou rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and blinked several times before she stared right into my eyes. “He used to say that when you are arguing with yourself, you are about to mess up. I see you fighting with someone in your head. Who is it?”
“Myself,” I answered.
“Then youareabout to mess up,” she said.
Rosalie brought the platter out herself and placed it in front of Ada Lou. “Things are caught up fairly well, so I’ll take a break,” she said as she sat down.
Scarlett came from the back and brought a platter of biscuits and three mugs to the table. “We can have these leftover biscuits for a midmorning snack with our coffee.”
“I was telling Carla that I rented out the last spot in the RV park. My new tenant paid six months in advance with cash money,” Ada Lou said between bites.
Scarlett squirted honey onto a plate and dipped a biscuit in it. “Who got it?”
