Page 51 of Welker

Welker’s face took on a serious cast. “Which reminds me, I don’t like that she’s way out here, all on her own.”

Moira was more pragmatic. “She’s been by herself for a long time, Welk, and I understand she’s more comfortable staying in a place that’s familiar to her than changing things up at her age. I think the best we can do, is to give her back-up.” She already had in her head that she’d spring for a security system for her new friend.

“You’re right,” Welker agreed. “I also told her she’d probably be meeting our teammates, sooner, rather than later. We can all pitch in and help her out. The house is actually in really good shape, but if we schedule a group weekend, we can help her spiff things up for winter.”

Moira sent him a huge smile as they both got into the car. “That’s a great idea. Between all of us, we can probably even get the place painted before it gets really bad.”

“I like the way you think,” Welker told her, starting the car. But before he dropped it into gear, he turned to look at her. “I like a lot of things about you.” His gaze smoldered.

Could she do this?

“I…like you, too, Welk.”

He looked satisfied at that, and changed the subject as he began to drive, making their way toward town. “How about that artwork Margaret does?” he marveled. “She’s pretty talented, huh?”

“She sure is. And I was wondering how we can get her more visibility. I’m sure any amount of income it generates would be a great supplement to her social security.”

They knew nothing about Margaret’s financial situation, but nobody ever balked at earning a little more.

“That’s a great idea. I’ll talk to Sabira.”

“Sabira?” Moira questioned. “I thought she was… Doesn’t she work in the food service industry?”

Welker laughed. “Among other things. She’s actually an influencer. She picks a recipe or a product, and somehow manages to get it trending. Don’t ask me how. It seems like magic or voodoo if you ask me.”

“It’s certainly a talent I don’t have,” Moira agreed. “But if you think Sabira could push Margaret’s art, we’ll have to set up a meet and greet between them.”

Welker reached into his pocket and handed her his phone. “Send Sabi a text. That way neither of us will forget.”

Moira nodded, and after Welker had trustingly given her the code to open his phone, her fingers flew. She read aloud as she typed. “Met a sensational artist today. Ninety-five years old.”

Welker stopped her, aghast. “What? Are you kidding me? I had her pegged for mid-eighties.”

“Nope. She told me first thing how old she is. I think she’s proud of it.”

“And rightly so.” Welker marveled. “All the more reason she needs some new friends to replace all the old ones she’s lost.”

“You have a soft heart, Welker,” Moira told him, her tone letting him know she liked that about him.

“As the kids say, it takes one to know one,” he countered without hesitation.

Moira was glad the darkness of the car hid her blush as she continued texting and talking. “…would love to have you meet her sometime soon.”

“That should be enough,” Welker said, reaching out for his phone. When she gave it to him, he brushed against her fingers a little longer than necessary.

Moira pulled up her metaphorical big-girl panties—not the ones she had on, because those were scandalously tiny, but her normal cotton numbers. “Are you…flirting with me, Vestore?” She reverted to his last name to make the comment a little less…coquettish.

“Moira,” he sighed dramatically, “I’ve been flirting with you for months, and clearly doing a piss-poor job of it since you haven’t noticed. I’m just upping my game, now, because it feels like you’re finally giving me a chance.”

“I didn’t…” Moira cleared her dry throat. “I didn’t know you were flirting. I thought you were just…giving me shit.”

Welker sighed. “Not even close.”

She grimaced, knowing he was gearing up for some tough questions.

“What happened Moira? Who, in your past, made you so skittish?” he asked seriously.

Was she ready to go into this?

---