Page 6 of Text Appeal

“I just moved here.”

“Where from?” she asks with the same sweet, guileless smile.

“Las Vegas.”

“You’re a city girl?”

“That’s right.”

“Goodness,” she says. “What a change.”

“It sure is. Where would you like to go, ma’am?”

“Call me Martha. I’m headed to The Mermaid Cafe. Do you know where that is?”

“No, but I can look it up.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll direct you.” And she does.

Martha is adamant about buying me a coffee to say thank you. It turns out the cafe is off Beach Street, only a couple of blocks from my new place. Though almost everything in this small town is. The café is in a narrow, weathered two-story building with a couple of tables sitting out in front. Above them on the exterior of the building is a sculpture of a mermaid. A wooden one like you would see on the front of a pirate ship. One of the tables is already occupied by two women of similar age to Martha. The first is busy knitting while the second works on a cross-stitch.

“This is Riley,” announces Martha. “Meet Noor and Joyce.”

I smile and pause to stretch one of my poor sore calves. Might try and cram myself into the bath tonight. A soak in hot water could be beneficial.

Martha no sooner settles into her seat than a ball of wool and a crochet hook appears in her hands. “Riley was good enough to give me a lift from the park.”

“Was it your knee again?” asks Joyce.

“You know it.”

“As Bette Davis said, getting old is not for sissies,” says Noor.

Joyce turns and hollers in the direction of the open café door, “Two more coffees.”

“Coming, Ma,” yells back someone from inside.

“Sit down, Riley,” says Noor with a welcoming smile. She has a husky voice with a Middle Eastern accent. “Tell us about yourself.”

“She just moved here from the city,” Martha answers for me. “There’s gossip going around about her and Connor.”

Noor raises a brow. “Is that so?”

“I don’t even know him,” I say. “It’s all just a misunderstanding.”

“Hmm.” Joyce peers at me over the top of her spectacles. “Maybe you should meet him.”

I don’t smile so much as grimace and it is awkward as fuck.

“What’s your grandson got to say about all this?” asks Noor.

“I haven’t had a chance to ask him yet,” says Martha. “But what really interests me is who’s behind this rumor that he and Riley are together.”

“You think someone’s stirring trouble?” asks Noor.

Martha stabs her crochet hook in my general direction. “She knows what’s going on and won’t tell me. Which makes me highly suspicious.”

“Harsh,” I mumble.

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