“You look surprised. You are thirty years old. Surely you’ve had relationships in the past.”
“Not really. To be honest, I’ve never had a real boyfriend. A few one-night stands, and one guy that I got together with for a whole weekend when our paths crossed. We both knew that it was casual. He got married a couple of years ago, so even that ended. My number one rule is that I don’t go to bed with men who are taken.”
“Well, you are here now. It’s time to change that,” Scarlett said.
“I’m still not having sex with a married man,” I declared.
“I didn’t mean that,” Scarlett said with a smile. “I meant it’s time to have a boyfriend—a single one that you could fall in love with.”
“What does it feel like to have someone in your life for an extended period of time?” I’d read lots of those happy ever after–romance books, but that was just entertaining fiction. Could there be something like that in reality?
“If that person treats you like Grady does me, then it’s wonderful,” she answered, and then her expression went from warm and fuzzy at his name to cold and tough. “If you get someone who doesn’t make you feel like a queen, break it off.”
“Do you feel sparks ...” I hesitated. “I got that word from the romance books I read, so don’t judge me, but do you feel all gushy inside when he holds your hand?”
“I do,” Scarlett answered. “It seems strange to be answering these questions when you are older than I am.”
“Hey, now, I’m not that old,” I protested. “But thank you all the same.”
“Food is ready,” Rosalie called from the kitchen.
Scarlett unlocked the front door and flipped the switch to turn on the flashingOpensign. We went to the kitchen and sat down in our regular places.
“Thank you for always making breakfast for us, Rosalie,” I said.
“No problem,” she said.
“It seems like I’ve fallen into a bed of roses. I have everything I need without having to shell out money.”
Rosalie chuckled and set a plate of food in front of each of us.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“That you are finally understanding that you don’t need poker to be happy,” she answered. “So, are you telling me that you don’t need a game of cards anymore?”
I picked up my fork and shook my head. “No, ma’am, I am not saying that at all. If it wasn’t for all your good food, I might be driving over to El Paso or up to Carlsbad for a game.”
“How do you know you could find something in either of those places?” Scarlett asked.
“I would just need to make a phone call to a guy I know, and he would find a game for me anywhere within a hundred miles. But then you would leave, and I can’t cook,” I teased.
“Don’t you forget it.” Rosalie emphasized each word by poking her fork at me.
“Since you hate gambling so much, why didn’t you walk away when you realized what Larry was doing with all the money y’all made?” I asked.
“I prayed that he would finally come to his senses or that someone decent would buy this place,” she answered. “God answers his children in mysterious ways sometimes.”
I didn’t think of myself as spiritual, but I agreed with her that morning.
Something totally out of my wheelhouse and comfort zone was surely happening, and I had no control over any of it.
Usually, one or two customers from the buses entertained me with a story throughout the day, but not that Friday. The only potential bright spot had been when Ada Lou rode in on her motorcycle, and even she declared that she was in a bad mood and poor company. I blamed the dreary weather for the ho-hum day when the last customer paid their bill and left to board the bus.
Life does not mean you get to be the statue every time. Today you are the pigeon,the voice in my head said.
“Don’t I know it,” I muttered. “But a little bit of excitement would be great.”
Scarlett had already begun taking the condiment trays to the kitchen to clean them. “What was that?” she asked.
