‘Fifty-four.’
‘And you’re a … ?’
‘Town planner,’ he supplied.
‘You don’t want your own space?’At fifty-freaking-four years old?
‘Oh, there’s plenty of room at my mother’s. My father died about twelve years ago and she lives in the house all by herself. It’s too much for her to handle on her own,’ he said, taking another sip of his drink, smaller this time. ‘Lately she’s been talking about downsizing and moving into a retirement village, but that’s such a waste of time. I mean, why would you?’
‘Maybe she’s craving the community that those places have. You know—making new friends and having people her own age around her.’
‘I don’t know why. She’s got plenty of friends.’
But Jenny dealt with the elderly on a daily basis and suspected there was more to the story than Alan was letting on. ‘Maybe she doesn’t get to see them as often as she’d like. Does she still drive?’
‘No. She never had a licence—Dad always drove.’
‘In a retirement village she wouldn’t have to depend on anyone driving her places. They often have community transport and most of their entertainment is onsite. It might give her a bit more independence than she’s getting at the moment.’
‘I don’t know how she thinks I’ll be able to find a place if she sells up, with the housing market the way it is at the moment,’ he grumbled.
And there was the crux of the problem. ‘I’m sure you’ll find somewhere,’ Jenny said, taking a drink.
‘Anyway, she’s given me an ultimatum to find a girlfriend or she’s putting the house on the market immediately. She wants to make sure I’m happy before she makes any final decisions about the house.’
More like she wants to make sure she palms you off to someone else so you’re their problem and not hers anymore, Jenny thought, almost wishing she hadn’t gone the non-alcoholic route as she sipped at her drink and looked around for the waitress.Come on, people, let’s get this shit show on the road. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can go home. Thank God she’d brought her own car.
‘Shall we order?’ she asked, reaching for the menu.
After a few minutes, she noticed Alan was still studying the list. He had changed his mind at least three times so far.
‘I can recommend the pork tenderloin. I’ve heard the steak is pretty good too.’ The food was the only thing worth remembering about her last date here.
‘I’m pretty fussy about how I like my steak,’ he said cautiously.
‘The chef seems amazing. I’m sure if you tell the waitress, she’ll let him know.’
‘I don’t think I’d like to chance it. That’s quite a significant amount of money to waste on an overdone steak.’
Shoot me now.‘Maybe the pork then?’ she suggested helpfully.
‘I don’t eat pork. Bad experience once.’
‘The chicken?’
‘Still don’t trust that they don’t pump them full of hormones.’
Oh, for the love of Christ.The waitress was walking towards them with a bright smile and Jenny wished she could warn her about what she was walking into.
‘Cassie, isn’t it?’ Jenny said, greeting the young woman from the previous evening. ‘You went to school with Brittany.’
Cassie smiled. ‘That’s me. Nice to see you again, Mrs Hayward.’
‘Please, you’re all grown up now, call me Jenny. And I think we’re ready to order … or at least one of us is. Alan might need a little bit of help though.’
‘No worries,’ Cassie said. Over the course of the next five minutes, she expertly walked Alan through the entire menu and both of them learned far too much about the man and his many gastrointestinal issues.
Yeah, nah, I can’t do this, Jenny thought as irritation began to rise inside her. This man had absolutely nothing in common with her. It was beyond depressing. ‘I’m sorry, I just need to use the ladies for a minute,’ Jenny said, standing abruptly before making her way across the room.
