Page 52 of Café Diablo

“Yes, she told me all about you,” the woman says, coming up to the fence with her wild mane of grey hair blowing in the breeze.

“Ned Voss,” I say, offering her a hand to shake, but she bypasses my hand entirely and goes straight for my upper arm, squeezing my bicep in her wrinkled hands. “Um—?”

“Mmmmm, and you’re a strong one too,” she says, peering over her red glasses and inspecting me like I’m a prize mule. “Good strong muscles for yard work and shoveling pig shit.” She motions to her haphazard landscaping.

“I’m sorry?” I raise my eyebrows, confused. Does this woman think I’m here to do farm work? “What exactly did Olivia tell you we were, or I’m here to—?”

“Fancy lawyers can still dig in the dirt? Yes?” she asks, still groping my upper arm.

“Lawyers, uh, we—”

“Uphold the law. Enact justice. Yes, but it’s obvious you don’t just push around papers, do you?” She squeezes my arm again like that’s evidence that I moonlight in the construction business. “Tell me, what exactly are your intentions for my granddaughter with these big man-muscles, if it’s not to dig out my pig trough?”

Granddaughter?

Oh!

This must be Olivia’s family’s nursery and this is her grandmother. Her grandmother, who also just made a rather incendiary comment. That little nugget of fun didn’t fly over my head unnoticed. Intentions? Man-muscles? What exactly am I supposed to say?

I school my features and frown, contemplating agreeing to go dig out whatever farm-animal trench she needs in the backyard so I can thoroughly avoid the intentions conversation, especially considering what I’ve already done with her granddaughter.

“Um, uh,” I cough, clearing my throat. “Is Olivia here?”

Grandma frowns, like she doesn’t understand why Olivia should be here. “You dig ditches in suits?” She plucks at the fabric of my coat. “You’re a crazy lawyer.”

“I don’t normally dig ditches as part of my profession, no,” I clarify, looking past the woman to the house and wondering if Olivia’s inside.

“You boom-boom my granddaughter yet?” Grandma asks and my eyes fly to her, my jaw coming completely unhinged.

“I’m sorry—what?”

“Boom-boom?” Grandma repeats, letting go of me to pound her two small fists together in demonstration. “Knock the boots. You young kids today, you don’t wait for wedding bells and commitments, you just—” She motions again—boom-boom with her hands—leaving me speechless.

“I—uh—I—” I stare at her wide-eyed, the crease between her eyes deepening. “I am so sorry, but I don’t—uh—I don’t even know what to say to that.”

Suddenly, Grandma bursts into laughter, her whole dowdy old-woman face lighting up with amusement like I’ve been completely played—which it looks like I have been.

“You should see your face,” she laughs. “Olivia said you take things too seriously. You actually thought I was going to make you shovel pig shit, didn’t you?”

“Uh, maybe…” I shake my head, not sure how to react.

“Of course, youaregoing to marry her, right?” Grandma’s face falls, becoming serious again. “You boom-boom it, you bought it. Know what I’m saying?” She gives me a suspicious eye.

“What!?”

Again, she cracks up into laughter, like she can’t believe how gullible I am.

“You’re too easy to mess with!” she exclaims, pointing to the small gate on the fence and walking over to it. “No wonder Olivia likes you, you’re too much fun to play with.”

I frown, realizingthismust be where she gets her push-every-button-Edwin-has outlook on life. Grandma unhooks the latch on the gate and motions for me to follow her around the side of the house.

“Fun to play with,” Grandma says, “andhas all those man-muscles.”

Grandma wiggles her eyebrows, her eyes lighting up like lanterns as if her granddaughter just brought Superman home for dinner.

Grandma leads me around the side of the house to the back field, making several more quips about my prospects as her future grandson-in-law.

“Lawyers make good money. This is good,” she says. “Olivia deserves a man who can provide for her.”

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