Page 69 of The Party Line

“Why not?”

“Because he’s slow-witted. You’ve been in Ditto for three weeks, and he’s just now getting around to asking you out,” she giggled. “I’ll take care of Jasper for you so you don’t have to rush home. Maybe”—she winked at me—“he’ll even cook breakfast in the morning. You said he makes a really good omelet.”

I added the medicine to the tray. “Life is not dull or boring with you around.”

“I try,” she said dramatically and placed a hand over her heart.

She opened the door for me, and I carried the tray outside. Jasper was waiting on the porch and waved when I started over that way. He eased up out of his chair, whistled for Sassy, and headed into the house. The dog ran from the far corner of the fenced-in yard and beat him inside when he opened the door.

“What do you have there?” he asked when I set the tray on the table.

“Soup, corn bread, and medicine. I’ll pour you a glass of iced tea.”

“Smells and looks great, but I’ll sure be glad when I can have a beer in the evenings instead of pills,” he bellyached.

“They’ll all be gone a week from tomorrow,” I assured him. “On Friday of next week, you can celebrate being well with a beer or a hot toddy.”

He sat down and changed the subject. “Are you done with that fool notion of being a strawberry farmer? Accountants don’t exactly grow on plants around here.”

I set the glass of tea on the table and sat down beside him. “No, I’m even more determined to do it. It’s exactly what I need, and I’m going to talk Mama and Annie into helping me with the wine part of the business. I’m going to name the wine Strawberry Grace.”

Jasper swallowed his pills with a sip of tea. “She’d like that, and she’d love that you are doing this, but make sure it’s more than a whim. I miss her so much, Lila. The last few years, we were together from breakfast to bedtime. Sometimes she drove us into Poteet to the Senior Citizen Center for lunch. We would play dominoes or cards all afternoon and visit with the youngsters.”

“Youngsters?” I frowned.

“Honey, we are done past ninety. Them other folks were at least twenty years behind us, so yes, they were babies to us. We were already either runnin’ a business or else in the army when they was in diapers.”

“Either me or Gina Lou will be glad to drive you into town every day if you want to go spend some time there. You just have to take your meds before you leave and be home in time for supper,” I told him.

“Hmmph,” he snorted. “I don’t need a curfew. Besides, by four o’clock all of them folks is ready to go home and get a nap anyway. But thank you for the offer. I might take you up on it come Monday, if you don’t think that’s too soon to start socializin’ since Gracie’s passing.”

“I don’t think so. Folks in this day and time don’t pay much attention to those old rules,” I said as I started to leave. “Besides, you and Gracie did things your way and didn’t let other people’s opinions matter.”

“I s’pose. Tell Gina Lou thanks for the supper,” he said.

“Will do,” I nodded.

I was almost across the yard when the ringtone on my phone let me know Mama was calling. I sat down on the top step and hit the accept button. “Are we there yet?”

She giggled and said, “We are in Nashville, right here in a hotel on the strip. We stayed in Montgomery, Alabama, on our way, and we saw the grave site where Hank Williams was put to rest and went through his museum, and it was absolutely awesome, Lila, and”—she stopped for a breath—“tonight we’re going to walk down the strip and listen to the music in a couple of bars. Everything is within walking distance. We went to some of the places Connor mentioned, and we can’t wait to be in the Ryman. It’s all too much to even describe in words, and we aren’t even unpacked yet. Tell me what’s going on at home. I’m having the time of my life, but I got to admit, I’m a little homesick.”

“Catch your breath, Mama,” I said with half a chuckle. “We finished up the strawberry fields today, and Connor asked me for a date tomorrow night. Jasper is getting well and seems to be resigned about taking his medicine. We’ve been taking his meals out to him, and Gina Lou is a fantastic cook.”

“What did you say?” she asked.

“About which one?”

“A date with Connor, and where is he taking you?” Mama’s tone wasn’t as excited as it had been a few minutes before.

“I have no idea. We’re going out for dinner. Are you upset about that?”

“He might recommend good honky-tonks, but he better take my daughter out to a nice public restaurant with cloth napkins. If he gets a six-pack of beer and a couple of bologna sandwiches and drives out to the river, then I might have a problem with it,” she said.

“Are you speaking from experience?” I asked.

“I am, and you need to learn from my mistakes. Your father never took me anywhere but the river,” she said with a long sigh. “I want more for you than what I got.”

“Mama, you were seventeen,” I reminded her. “I’m almost thirty.”

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