Page 52 of Stealing Home

When she sees us she pushes back from the table and heads toward us, her cane left leaning against her chair. Wren shakes her head and points at the cane, but Dolores lifts her chin haughtily and continues without it.

“I swear that woman will give me a heart attack one of these days,” Wren grumbles.

Dolores smiles when she gets in front of us and pats Wren on the shoulder. “Worrying will give you wrinkles, dearie.”

“You must have worried a lot,” an old man comments as he shuffles past.

“No one’s talking to you, ya old goat,” Dolores snaps back.

“Guess I’ll still save you a dance later,” he grumbles.

“Of course you will, I’m one of the only ones who can still get around,” she hollers back at him.

He snorts on his way out of the dining room.

Wren turns to her with both her eyebrows raised halfway to her hairline. “What in the he-heavens was that?”

“Surely you can recognize foreplay when you see it,” Dolores says impishly.

I choke on my own spit, and Wren just stands there blinking. “You’ve been spending too much time with Bess.”

Dolores smiles. “My Rainbow Brite does keep me entertained.” She links her arms with ours and tugs. “Come sit. I’ve got to rest my dogs so I can dance all night. Or until eight. I swear sometimes these people act so old.”

“They are old,” Wren comments.

“That’s still no excuse to act like it. Bess told me I’m only as old as I feel, so I decided to be sixty. Old enough to be wise, but not so old I can’t let my hair down,” she explains while nodding her head as if what she is saying is an absolute fact.

Dolores turns to me, propping her elbows on the table and rests her head on her hands. “I hear you’ve got yourself a strapping young beau.”

My mouth falls open, and I glare at Wren. She only shrugs, like she didn’t throw me under the bus to be interrogated by a woman who could teach the FBI how to get information.

“Yeah, uhm, I’m kinda seeing a player from my soon-to-be ex-husband’s baseball team,” I say in a rush.

Her pale blue eyes sparkle, and she winks at Wren. “I mean, it’s not his father, but that’ll do.”

Wren groans. “I didn’t get with Griffin for revenge on Liam.”

“Of course not, you fell for him because the man oozes sex appeal. He’s like a young Carey Grant,” she sighs.

“Well, that’s disturbing,” Wren mumbles.

Dolores ignores her. “Tell me about your fella.”

I fidget in my seat, not sure what I should tell them. Definitely the Cliff’s Notes version. “He’s sweet, likes kids, and is studying computers.”

Dolores pretends to snore. “Sweet doesn’t get your motor running. He’s a young athlete, surely there’s something you’re leaving out.”

“That’s not why I’m seeing him. I’m not interested in a fling,” I say.

She waggles her eyebrows. “Don’t knock it. My Benjamin flung me around good when he was a young man.”

“Therapy. I’m going to need so much therapy,” Wren says under her breath.

Dolores giggles. “I bet Liam has a good shrink he can recommend.”

“Can I be you when I grow up?” I blurt out.

“Oh, honey, why wait? Listen, serious talk now, just because you want to climb that man like a tree doesn’t mean you can’t have a real connection with him too. Be bold and brazen. When you’re my age you don’t want to look back and regret not dressing up like a hussy and making your man feel like a god. By the way, I have no regrets. My Benjamin was a very satisfied man. Made our marriage rock solid for over fifty years.”

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