Page 66 of Mark my Words

Her house was tucked along a quiet stretch of rocky beach just a little north of Tern Island. A few neighbors were within walking distance, but typically only locals used the beach this time of year.

“Nana?” The front door was unlocked, another habit I found bizarre after growing up in the city, but one which seemed commonplace here. She was a little more cautious during the tourist season but didn’t bother the rest of the year.

“Is that my wayward traveler?” she shouted from the direction of the kitchen, which was located along the back of the house, facing the water.

The scents of her apple strata wafted in my direction, warm cinnamon and brown sugar making my stomach grumble, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten much before I caught the bus to the wharf this morning. I was sure she’d cringe at me using public transportation, but I always felt like a douche riding in the back of a town car. It was sometimes necessary for Manhattan, but I tended to walk now that I lived in Boston or catch a bus.

A gilded picture frame caught my eye as I turned the corner into the kitchen, my eyes widening. Hanging there in the middle of my almost eighty-year-old, widowed grandmother’s kitchen—for all the world to see—was a painting of a pineapple. An upside-down pineapple.

“Just in time. I pulled it out of the oven a few moments ago,” she smiled as I looked over to where she was seated at the kitchen island. Her sleek silver bob framed her slight face, her skin just as luminous as ever. She may have hated the trappings of wealth and the headache that came with it, but Nana was a hot grandma. Her complexion was near perfect, subtle laugh lines around her mouth and smile lines at the corners of her eyes the only indication of her age. I knew some of it was cosmetically enhanced, but I only hoped I’d age as gracefully as she had.

“So, you got some new artwork,” I commented, glancing back at her painting. I knew I was probably reading too much into it, but really? It was upside-down. What was I supposed to think?

“Oh, yeah. I found that on the gallery walk last week with Georgia. Isn’t it lovely?”

“Any particular reason it’s hanging like that?”

She stepped over in front of the painting, peering at it while I stood off to the side, watching her reaction. It was clear Nana had no idea.

“Is it crooked? Pietro hung it without a level.” She paused at my frown. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Who’s Pietro?” The last time I talked to her, the young guy she used to take care of the landscaping and repair person work was named Rodney. “The pineapple is upside-down, Nana.”

“And? That’s where the mounting bracket was.” She ignored my first question, but if he was helping her around the house, I was sure I’d meet him eventually.

“So, you went to the gallery walk and bought an upside-down pineapple painting and didn’t ask why the hardware was upside-down?”

Shaking her head, she walked back to the island and carefully scooped two servings of strata into bowls. “Come sit down with me and stop obsessing over my painting. I like it like that, it gives the kitchen a little more character.”

Yeah, character and let people think Nana was into some partner swapping.

“But why upside-down? I’m sure Pietro could have easily changed the mounting bracket.”

“Georgia and Paul’s is hung upside-down too. I think it’s a new vacation house trend or something. They also have a new bronze sculpture they commissioned on the table by their front door of an upside-down pineapple.”

“Oh my God,” I sputtered, unable to keep in my laughter any longer. Nana’s other geriatric friends were swingers, and she didn’t even realize it. The upside-down pineapple had become the secret symbol of swingers, but I doubted my grandmother knew that, given the placement of her new painting. I knew because there were no limits to some of the plot devices romance authors used.

“Are you feeling alright, dear?” she frowned, looking at me with alarm.

“I’m fine, Nana.” I waved my hand in front of my face, trying to calm myself down.

“No, no,” she fussed. “Something is going on with you. Why are you so distressed by upside-down pineapples?”

“It’s not a big deal, really. Forget I said anything.”

“Kristine, you tell me right now, young lady.”

“Nana...” I started, not sure how to broach this subject. “How well do you know Georgia and Paul?”

“I’ve been friends with them for twenty years.”

Long before my grandfather passed away five years ago. Interesting. “Did Georgia and Paul ever suggest any couple activities with you and Grandfather?”

“We played in a Bridge league and went to dinner every Friday night.”

“And in all that time, they never tried to...get to know you and Grandfather more...intimately?”

“What nonsense are you going on about? You’re making no sense right now.”

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