Page 53 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

“I had a date with Elvis once, in Vegas when I was a showgirl,” the grandmother remarked, to no one in particular. “By then his hunka hunka burning love had gone the way of too many peanut butter and banana sandwiches.”

“Your grandmother was a showgirl?” he asked Delilah.

She nodded.

Actually, she told me that last night. But it didn’t sink in then. Whoa. Another piece of the puzzle. Raised by a showgirl grandmother. “Cool! Bet she’ll fit in great with the dance crowd over at the Patterson house.”

Delilah groaned. “Oh, my G . . . gracious! You’re right.”

“Of course, it’s a nonsmoking crowd.”

“She’ll convince them that it’s not really smoking since no nicotine is involved.”

He was bent over laughing by now.

“You do know that these unexpected visitors mean your plans for the evening have gone south.”

“Oh, crap!” He adjusted the towel around his hips.

Which caught Delilah’s eyes, which went wide. She seemed to suddenly realize that he was half-naked and made a hissing sound of distress. “Hurry. Go get dressed.”

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he pointed out.

She looked down at herself and blushed. She must have forgotten her own lack of attire.

This scene out of a bad comedy, or a really good comedy, just got better and better.

“Go!” she ordered. “And while you’re inside, take all those sticky sheets off the bed, and gather up all those wet towels. Pick up any, um, loose clothes off the living room floor, too.”

Sticky sheets, he liked the sound of that. But maybe now wasn’t the time to tease her. On their fiftieth wedding anniversary, though, all bets were off. “Sticky sheets” was going to be their code word for a certain activity. And, no, he wasn’t going to examine why he was thinking of anniversaries when weddings weren’t even discussed yet, or imagined. Talk about jumping the gun. “I assume I’m going to the laundry.”

“You did offer to help,” she said.

“Yeah, but then there were rewards to be had.” At the crestfallen look on her face, he said, “I was just kidding. Lighten up, sweetie. Everything will be all right.” He leaned down, gave her a quick kiss, and went back inside.

A short time later, he had his truck stuffed with laundry. Delilah had given him a short grocery list—not for the salvage boat, but for her family’s needs today. They would do the Sweet Bells shopping this afternoon, but would he mind stopping at Hard Knocks, the hardware store where Frank had ordered a mini blowtorch for her to make some kind of desserts, and the Cove, a mercantile or general store dating back to the 1930s to buy a cast-iron frying pan, and, oh, could he check with Stu or Barb MacLeod at Blankety-Blank to see if the bedspreads were ready yet for the motels? Delilah kept apologizing about asking for his help. Finally, he had to tell her, “Cool your jets, babe. I want to help.”

She had tears in her eyes when she said, softly, “Thank you.”

Damn! Tears over a little frickin’ help! What had her life been like pre–Outer Banks?

Another missing puzzle piece.

He would have taken off then but the grandmother, to whom he’d been introduced as “My friend, Merrill Good,” solicited his help in unloading her car.

Yeah, right. He’d like to give her “friend.” Maybe with a quick smack on her cute butt, which was now demurely covered by a loose sundress. But that was being petty. What did he expect? That she’d introduce him as her lover? Or something more? One night did not make for “something more.” He knew that, but he’d been hoping for another night, and another.

The little girl stared at him, speculatively, through crafty blue eyes, just like her mother’s. Probably wondering if he was going to be her Daddy Warbucks. Or maybe she was wondering if her mother had brought home an uncle for her to play with. Or maybe she didn’t like his looks and wanted him to be gone. Bottom line, she was clearly casing him out.

He winked at her and said, “Cute duds, Annie McFannie!”

She smiled. Apparently, he’d passed the test. “I want a dog.”

Whoa! Does she expect me to get her a dog? “That’s nice. I thought you already had a dog.”

“That’s not a real dog,” she told him with disdain, as if he might be a bit dim upstairs. “Do you have a dog?”

“Not presently.”