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She took a steadying breath and nodded. “You’re right. I’m probably stressing over nothing.”

He unpeeled his phone from her hand and held it up again. “I’ll only send the picture to you. That way, you can post it after class when you’re not so anxious.”

“Okay. Fine. Maybe announcing this goal will keep me accountable for doing my homework.” She plastered on a smile that he could tell wasn’t quite genuine.

She still looked good anyway. Perhaps that was something they taught in beauty school. He snapped the picture and sent it to her.

From the recliner, her grandmother called, “Are you actually going to go to school or just stand there flirting with your boyfriend?”

Marlowe edged out of the room, nervously checking that she had everything she needed. “I’m off. Don’t be too hard on Jace. He’s the only boyfriend I’ve got.”

The sentence made Jace laugh. As she left, he said, “Hopefully, that’s always the case.”

He meant hopefully she only had one boyfriend at a time, but Mrs. Partridge said, “If that’s your goal, you’ll have to hold onto her tighter than you did last time.” She shook her head, eyes on the rows of purple knitting in front of her.

“I will,” Jace said, almost without realizing the statement was a lie. He walked over to the couch opposite the recliner, still carrying his board games. The room seemed smaller without Marlowe in it, and he suddenly wasn’t sure what to say or do.

Mrs. Partridge’s needles clacked away, flashing silver in the overhead lighting. “Marlowe told me that the two of you broke up in high school because you were going to college and you didn’t want a long-distance romance.”

“She was a sophomore and I was a senior…” There was no point in explaining everything. “Basically, yes, that’s what happened.” He set his board games on the couch and sat down. Apparently, he hadn’t needed to bring anything to entertain Mrs. Partridge. She’d planned an interrogation.

She tugged out a piece of yarn. “I asked Marlowe what would happen when you returned to California. She was very vague about it. If the two of you are going to date, you need to be clear about your intentions upfront. I don’t want you breaking her heart a second time.”

He swallowed uncomfortably and shrugged. “We only started dating a little while ago, so it hasn’t come up in conversation.”

She harumphed. “Well, it’s coming up in conversation with me right now. Before you answer, I should mention that I’ve got a gun, a temper, and a group of friends who’re willing to provide an alibi on short notice.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Really? Who do you hang out with down at the senior center?”

She huffed and the speed of her knitting increased. “I’m not afraid to go to jail. It’s cheaper than assisted living, and they give you a free wardrobe to boot.”

He couldn’t tell whether she was serious or not. Her tone didn’t imply she was joking. “You don’t need to worry about Marlowe and me. Now that we’re older, I think a long-distance relationship would work if that’s what we decide we want.”

“Glad to hear it. I’d miss gardening if I went to prison. Although I’ve always wanted to make a license plate. So…”

Jace thought back to Marlowe’s post when she’d asked for a part-time caregiver. “Mostly just talking to the sweetest lady in town,” Marlowe had promised. “It’ll be easy.”

Lies. All lies.

It was probably time to change the subject to something less violent. “Would you like to play a board game?” he asked. “I brought a few that my family likes.”

She perked up. “If you want to play a game, we should play cards.”

Jace wasn’t imagining it. The woman got an actual gleam in her eyes. She put down her knitting, pried herself out of her chair, and retrieved a pack of cards from a drawer in the entertainment center.

When he protested that Marlowe had forbidden him to gamble with her, Mrs. Partridge waved away his words. “We don’t have to play for money. We could play for time.”

“Time?” he repeated.

“Yes. Instead of winning twenty or thirty dollars from you, I’ll win twenty or thirty minutes of you cleaning my gutters.”

“And if I win?”

“I’ll go to bed twenty or thirty minutes earlier than usual. Whatever I’m down by.”

Not a bad deal. He could hold his own. He’d played with friends in college and won more often than he lost.

“Sure,” Jace said.