Page 10 of Blue Moon Love

“I tried to keep a wide berth, then got out of there as fast as I could.”

She sighed heavily before dropping the now-bare potato she held into the steel pot and reaching up to pat my face.

“Don’t worry. You’ll meet a nice boy. Just like your brothers are going to meet nice girls, and one of you will make me a nonna, God willing.” She kissed the wooden cross that hung on the rosary beads around her neck, then made the sign of the cross. Even though she hadn’t attended a mass since moving to Wishing Well when she was fourteen, her Catholic roots ran deep. She always had her beads on, either wrapped around her wrist or hung around her neck.

To make her a nonna, I’d actually have to have sex. Something I was actively trying to do, not that I’d tell her that. I told my mom a lot, but my virginal status was not something I ever planned on divulging to her.

“Did you send out the invitations?” My mom made a U-turn in the conversation.

“You mean for your surprise party?”

Over the summer, Dolly Briggs’s kids had thrown her a “surprise” birthday party. Dolly, who raised nine children, was known for having eyes in the back of her head and had definitely known what was going on. The morning of her birthday, she’d gone to see Bella to get her hair done for her “surprise” party later that night.

Since Dolly’s party, my mom had been dropping hints about my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary, which was coming up in just a few weeks. What started as mentioning she’d never had a surprise party and how big of a milestone forty years was quickly turned into her sending me the confirmation receipt from the deposit she’d put down to reserve the community center and a list of things I needed to do to plan their “surprise” party.

“Yes, what other party would I be asking about?” my mom shot back as if my inquiry had been dumb.

“Yes, I did,” I assured her for the fifth time. “I sent them out last week.”

“Well, I saw Barbara-Jean, and she said she hasn’t gotten hers yet. I told her to check the mail this week.”

“I sent out e-vites, Ma. Tell her to check her email.”

“Yes, that is what I said. Check her mail!”

I wasn’t going to argue with her. Instead, I made a mental note to print out an invitation for Barbara-Jean and drop it off for her.

“You know Sasha and Beau are expecting.”

“No, I didn’t know that.” But it didn’t surprise me. Just add them to the growing list of people I knew who were starting families.

Barbara-Jean Nelson’s granddaughter, Sasha Nelson, had moved to town a year ago after living most of her life in California. She was an actress who starred in a soap opera and had been engaged to her co-star. After he cheated on her, she left the Golden State and came to stay with her grandma, Barbara-Jean.

She’d ended up meeting Beau Briggs at Maisy Turner and Bentley Calhoun’s wedding, and the two of them got married a few months later. He wasn’t the only Briggs sibling who had settled down in the past few years. My mom loved to talk about how lucky Walker and Dolly Briggs were. They had nine children total—eight sons and one daughter—and all of their kids had found their happily-ever-afters in amazing partners. And it seemed like every year, they were welcoming a new grandbaby into the fold, sometimes two.

I wondered what the secret was that everyone else in town seemed to know. People joked that there was something in the water…maybe I should stop drinking filtered water and only drink from the tap.

6

SAM

“Call me whatever ya want; just don’t call me late for dinner.” ~ Archie “Witty” Whitlock

“Can you boys stay for some pie?” Old Man Pratt asked as he walked us out to our SUV.

“Oh, man.” I pretended to be torn up by my response, “As tempting as that sounds, we can’t.”

It was Thanksgiving, our shift was over, and I knew that Kane wanted to get home to his daughter and new wife. My plans were to head over to Sunset Acres to see Witty and spend the holiday with him. Over the years, I’d spent the majority of my holidays at the Hale’s. Once my mom passed, I’d just ended up there. But those times had always been with Milo and Mason. Milo was in the middle of a seventy-two-hour shift at the fire station, and Mason was in Virginia. He was going to try and come home for Christmas, but he wasn’t sure he’d get the time off.

Even though I knew that I was still welcome, at least by Mr. and Mrs. Hale, I wasn’t sure Kenna would want me there. She’d been acting so odd lately.

We drove away from the secluded farmhouse, and I waved once more. Old Man Pratt lifted his hand, then shuffled back into the house. I felt bad leaving the old guy. Today we’d been called out to his property because he called and reported that he’d woken up from a nap and his front door was open, so he thought someone had broken in. We checked out the property and there was no sign of an intruder.

Over the past year or so, I’d casually mentioned to Old Man Pratt that Witty had a more active social life than me. I’d told him about all the activities at Sunset Acres and even offered to pick him up and take him for a game night, but he said he wasn’t interested.

I knew the truth: He just didn’t want to admit he was lonely. He was too proud. Seeing his pride feed his isolation broke my heart a little, and I hoped that I didn’t end up like him.

As we pulled into the station, my phone vibrated, and I looked down to see a text with a photo from my grandpa. He was seated at a table between Mrs. Colder and Mrs. Benson; both women were feeding him. He looked as happy as a pig in mud.

---