Page 31 of Smolder

“My boys know I’d do anything for them, but from what he tells me, your Grams is a real treat,” she replied.

I guessed that was her way of saying she was aware Grams had dementia.

“You could say that,” I replied.

“Is that Rosie? Tell her to come have some of the pie we made,” Grams called out.

I licked my lips before explaining, “Rosie is her sister, who died when I was three. Grams often lives in the past.”

Maeme’s eyes softened. “I imagine it is easier there anyway. With happy memories.”

Yes, for my Grams, it definitely was.

“Come this way,” I told her and walked into the first room on the right.

“Grams, we have company. Her name is Maeme. Do you remember the attractive man who came to see us yesterday?” I doubted she did, but she nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Well, this is his grandmother, and he told her all about you. She wanted to come for a visit.”

Maeme clasped her hands together with a big smile. “Your home is just lovely. Did you make that afghan yourself? The colors are brilliant.”

Grams’s eyes lit up as Maeme complemented her home and blanket. “Well, yes, I did. I make them for the children’s group home auction every year, don’t I, Royal? They bring them a real nice price too.”

Grams was sitting up straighter with pride sparkling in her eyes. “Royal, dear, go get, uh …” She paused, forgetting her name.

“Maeme,” I offered, and she nodded with a soft laugh.

“Yes, my memory isn’t what it used to be these days,” she explained, having no idea how sadly accurate she was. “Anyway, go fetch her a slice of our pie. We made a delicious one, and you must have some of it.”

Maeme walked over to the sofa across from Grams. “I’d love some,” she said. “Now, tell me about that afghan. I’d love to hear about it. I used to do needlework years ago, but knitting and crocheting I never could get right. Certainly not like that. You’ve got a talent.”

Grams looked so giddy with the praise; her smile was the biggest I’d seen it in years. Maeme glanced at me and winked, then made a movement with her hand slightly to tell me to go on.

“Once you get the hang of it,” Grams began as I left the room quietly.

I stood just inside the kitchen, listening to Grams go on about the yarn quality and color choices before making my way back to the bedroom. Leaving Grams with someone other than my dad and me had never been an option. But it appeared Amory’s grandmother knew exactly how to handle her.

I felt a warmth in my chest, and a smile played across my lips as I stared at myself in the mirror. This guy really liked me. It was intimidating to think about. He was going to see soon enough that I was a hassle. Had he not gotten enough of that yesterday? It had been a day full of hassles.

Reaching up, I took a strand of my hair and wrapped it around my finger. I had good hair. Grams had always loved my hair when I was little. Letting the strand fall, I touched my lips, then my cheeks, and studied my nose. I saw the flaws, but I also knew that no one else looked as closely as I did. I wondered if my mom looked like me at this age. The photo I had, she was older than me now, but there were resemblances. No, I wasn’t going to think about her. She wasn’t my mom or even my mother. Grams was.

Dropping my hand back to my side, I turned around to find something to wear. It seemed this date was happening, and I wanted to at least look nice. He’d put a lot of effort into it getting his grandmother over here to sit with Grams. I was gonna wear something short. Not too short though. I didn’t want his grandmother thinking I was a hussy.

My phone dinged.

How did I do?

That was all Amory texted me.

Biting my lip, I smiled.

The sundress is short, and the heels are high.

I hit Send and waited as the dots appeared.

God, I love Maeme.

A laugh bubbled out of me as I held the phone for a moment more before putting it down and going to do all I could to make that man’s heart flutter.

•Twelve •

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