We might trade barbs without mercy, but it’s all in good fun. I grew up seeing her as a second grandma—one without a filter—and she was the first person Grams called to watch me when she was in a bind. Florence is family. With no kids of her own, I’ve made a point of including her and bringing her gifts when I visit because they make her happy. In turn, she’s taught me to hold my ground and never be afraid to speak my mind.
“You going to tell Charlie what’s happening, or am I?” Grams asks, nodding toward the scene unfolding before us.
June’s still outside Fran’s door, now pounding on it with her fist. “Fernie, I swear to god if you don’t open this door, I’m calling your daughter to tell her you’ve been skipping your blood pressure meds.”
Florence crooks her finger, beckoning me closer. “Right. So Gary slept in June’s room last night, but judging by the noise coming from her room, sleep was clearly not on the agenda.”
I grimace. “I don’t like where this is going.”
A devilish smile spreads across her face. “Gary disappeared before lunch, and Fern was conveniently nowhere to be found. She told everyone she was feeling under the weather. June went to check on her since they’re supposedly friends, and when Fern didn’t answer the door, she called Gary’s phone. Of course, it rang from Fern’s room. That’s why she’s banging on the door like a madwoman.”
“Unlucky for them, she’s the only one in this place with her hearing still intact,” Grams chimes in.
We all watch with bated breath as the door slowly opens, revealing Fern wrapped in a robe and a balding, pot-bellied man who can only be Gary standing behind her.
“I was right. You are a two-timing coward,” June spits at him. “I hope you both rot in hell.”
She turns on her heel and storms down the hall, her cane striking the floor in sharp, deliberate taps.
Florence claps, and both Gary and Fern snap their heads toward us, freezing when they realize they’re being watched. “Best soap opera I’ve seen in decades,” she hollers, popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth.
“Five stars,” Grams agrees, giving a thumbs-up.
Fern whips around to Gary, shouting at him as she slams the door shut.
Grams slaps her knee in delight. “Someoneis in the doghouse. Good riddance.”
“Thought you didn’t care for gossip or trading secrets,” I say.
She smirks. “Only the interesting kind.”
I open my purse again and take out the ultrasound photo from the inside pocket. “This interesting enough for you?”
“Praise be,” she exclaims, snatching it from my hand. “Look how perfect my great-grandbaby already is.”
Florence squints at the photo as Grams waves it around. “It looks like a stubby potato. I expected better, Charlie—considering that fine specimen of a husband of yours.”
Grams swings her head around to glare at her. “Nonsense. She’s a perfect little miracle.”
“That’s exactly what a grandmother would say,” Florence points out.
I toss my head back laughing. I can’t wait for them to meet the little peanut. Who needs a mom when I have these women who would move heaven and earth for us?
When I get home, it’s nearly sunset. Heath texted an hour ago to say he was finishing up at the ranch and would pick up dinner from Prickly Pear Diner. It’s a good thing, because my CGM has been slowly dropping all afternoon. I had a glass of orange juice before I left Meadowbrook, which brought my levels back into range, but I still want to avoid another low tonight.
I turn the corner into the alley and stop short, surprised by the bright motion lights that flicker on as soon as I step forward. Several have been installed along the side of my building, leading all the way to the back door.
On the opposite side of the space, there’s now a covered feeding station complete with a mat, a scratching post, and two small bowls—one filled with water, the other with wet cat food.
Charlie: Did you adopt a cat and not tell me?
Heath: Figured putting the stray’s food out of your pathway would avoid any allergic reactions.
Charlie: You shouldn’t encourage him.
Heath: Please. I know you’ve been feeding him too.
Charlie: Whatever gave you that idea?
