“Tonight’s menu.” Coco set her teeth. “She insists on treating this as though it’s one of her cruises.”
“As long as we don’t have to play shuffleboard.”
“Thank you, dear. Oh, did Max tell you his news?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, belatedly.”
“Has he decided? I know it’s a wonderful opportunity, but I hate to think he’ll be leaving so soon.”
“Leaving?”
“If he takes the position, he’ll have to go back to Cornell next week. I was going to read the cards last night, but with Aunt Colleen, I just couldn’t concentrate.”
“What position, Aunt Coco?”
“Head of the history department.” She gave Lilah a baffled look. “I thought he’d told you.”
“I was thinking of something else.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “He’s going to leave in a few days?”
“He’ll have to decide.” Coco cupped a hand under Lilah’s chin. “You’ll both have to decide.”
“He hasn’t chosen to bring me in on this one.” She stared down at the menu until the words blurred. “It’s a terrific opportunity, one I’m sure he’s hoped for.”
“There are a lot of opportunities in life, Lilah.”
She only shook her head. “I couldn’t do anything to discourage him from doing something he wants. Not if I loved him. It has to be his decision.”
“Who the hell is jabbering out there?” Colleen thumped her cane on the floor.
“I’d like to take that cane and—”
“More yoga,” Lilah suggested, forcing a smile. “I’ll deal with her.”
“Good luck.”
“You bellowed, Auntie,” Lilah said as she breezed through the door.
“You didn’t knock.”
“No, I didn’t. Tonight’s menu, Miss Calhoun. We hope it meets with your approval.”
“Little snip.” Colleen snatched the paper away, then frowned up at her grandniece. “What’s wrong with you, girl? You’re white as a sheet.”
“Pale skin runs in the family. It’s the Irish.”
“It’s temper that runs in the family.” She’d seen eyes that had looked like that before, she thought. Hurt, confused. But then she had been only a child, unable to understand. “Trouble with your young man.”
“What makes you say so?”
“Just because I never tied myself down with a man doesn’t mean I don’t know them. I dallied in my day.”
“Dallied.” This time the smile came more easily. “A nice word. I suppose some of us are meant to dally through life.” She ran a finger down the bedpost. “Just as there are some women men love but don’t fall in love with.”
“You’re jabbering.”
“No, I’m trying to be realistic. I’m not usually.”
“Realism is cold comfort.”