A startled laugh escaped her as Melanie turned to face the elderly woman. Eloise Foster was approaching eighty but was spry, fit, and looked ten years younger. She was also a free spiritwho believed in speaking her mind and doing whatever she pleased. The woman was her rock, Melanie thought in wonder. After losing her parents and discovering that she was pregnant, she had turned to her grams, who had been there for her ever since. "I shouldn't be so surprised."
Her grandmother snorted. Reaching over, she patted her hand, squeezing it lightly. "You haven't answered my question."
"And not going to."
Lifting their joined hand, she melted Melanie's heart by pressing it to her cheek. "You're the only child of my beloved son and a woman I considered my daughter. When I lost them both, I lost something inside me. A hole that will never be filled." Her eyes moistened. "You and that boy of yours have managed to fill it somewhat." Turning her cheek, she kissed her granddaughter's palm. "I love you."
"I love you too, grams." Melanie's voice was thick with emotions. "Oh, I miss them every single day. I keep thinking that if they were alive, I might be in a better place." Her eyes strayed to where her son was chasing squirrels. His happy and unaffected laugh as the animals raced up the old oak tree filled her with joy. "He's such a beautiful child."
"Like his mother." Leaning over, Eloise kissed her cheek. "Now finish the cookies and get out of here. Don't worry your head about young David, we have plans."
*****
"God, I feel old." Melanie drew down the leather skirt she had chosen to wear for the hundredth time. It occurred to her that she had made a mistake in choosing her attire. Chalk it down to pure madness. The entire evening stank of it.
Clubbing was not her thing. She usually avoided large crowds and would have preferred to spend her one stingy night off, just curled up in bed with a good book.
"Put your game face on." Her friend, wearing skin-tight leather pants and matching top, dragged her into the narrow passageway that smelled of sweat and smoke.
"We're going to have fun, even if it kills us."
"It might just come to that." Melanie muttered, shaking off a groping hand. "Back the hell off!"
Carrie grinned as the guy scurried away.
"You're fierce."
"He had his hand on my backside. I hate this."
"Let's go to the bar and loosen you up." Clamping a firm hand on her arm, Carrie marched her to the bar and miraculously found two empty stools next to each other.
"Ladies." The tall, black bartender beamed at them, eyes dancing flirtatiously. "Haven't seen you in my fine establishment before. Where have you been hiding your fine selves?"
"Here and there." Carrie beamed back at him, lashes fluttering. "My friend here needs something to make her relax."
"Not too relaxed."
The bartender's gaze settled on her face, brows raising in admiration. The friend was hot, but she was hotter. He found himself getting comfortably lost in the large mahogany dark eyes. "I have just the thing. A combination of good old Jamaican rum, a splash of coconut and strawberry." His smile turned flirtatious. "I guarantee it will put a smile on your face."
"I'm intrigued." Melanie said dryly.
"So am I. I'm also single."
"Hey. I'm starting to feel invisible here."
"Can't have that."
He turned to attend to two patrons and went on to fix their drinks.
"He's interested." Carrie said in an undertone as she cracked on nuts.
"I'm not."
"How about those two hotties over there?" Carrie pointed to the men staring at them.
"They're wearing leather pants." Melanie pointed out.
"So are we."
