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"One of those fruity drinks sounds good," Gen said.
"A dry white," Lyda said. "Toss a cherry into it if you have one."
"We don't go anywhere without maraschinos," Dorothy assured her. As Noah disappeared into the house she looked over her shoulder at him, then glanced back at the two women. Gen had watched him leave as well, though for different reasons. Too late, she realized she shouldn't be ogling Dorothy's grandson, but the woman gave
her an amused look. "He's always been a looker, coming and going. When he takes me to see my friends at the senior center, I have to beat those horny old women off him with a cane. Some of them read those cougar romances and get ideas. And I know my grandson. He'd worry about hurting the feelings of Imelda Marcos." She squinted. "I bet neither of you have any idea who that is."
Gen didn't but Lyda did, obviously better-educated on political history. Gen shifted uncomfortably, winning a curious look from her Mistress, but Dorothy fortunately distracted them with two questions. "So which of you is with him? Or hoping to be?"
Given Lyda's moment of trepidation at the bridge, Gen was ready to jump in with a vague but diplomatic answer. She should have known their Mistress was at her best in the face of a challenge. Lyda met Dot's gaze. "The way I answer that depends on how much you know about your grandson, regardless of what he thinks you know."
Gen managed not to let her jaw drop. Dorothy gave Lyda an assessing look. "I know enough to know you're in charge." Her gaze went to Gen. "Of both of them, her and my grandson?"
"As long as they're willing to let me be in charge. That's the way it works. At least, that's what I'm trying to teach him. That it's all his choice."
Dorothy was silent for a moment. "How's that going?"
"Better some days. Worse on others. I'm figuring him out, enough to know some things might not get figured out."
"Yes." Dot gave a brittle smile. "I don't know how much of that came from nature versus nurture. I do know there was a time I wanted to kill his father, and my stupid daughter with him. Anyone who spends any time with that boy can feel how special he is, how generous his heart."
Gen nodded without even having to think about it. Dot's gaze slid to her, the smile getting a little easier, though it was tinged with the past. "His father crushed him, you know. He could have just left it at 'I can't accept your lifestyle and get out', but oh no, that wasn't enough. Art went after him with everything. Told a seventeen-year-old boy someone should cut off his privates because Noah was obviously more of a sniveling woman than a real man. I expect he was trying to shame Noah into being what he wanted him to be."
The hardening of Lyda's expression told Gen she hadn't heard those specifics. Anger flooded her as well. Seeing it in their faces, Dot nodded, her jaw firming.
"Any other man would have simply walked out, not let his father keep hammering at him like that, but Noah doesn't leave a conversation until he's excused. Especially from someone he deems as being in authority, no matter how that person is treating him. So he just sat there, my daughter on the sidelines, while Art raged at him. And when Noah didn't respond, he started hitting him, trying to get him to act like a man. Noah never raised a hand in his own defense, not even to ward him off." She met Lyda's gaze. "You know some of that."
Lyda shook her head. "Not those details. I knew his father rejected him."
"That bastard." Dorothy's eyes went cold as ice. "Noah took care of me when I broke my hip. Lifted this fat body of mine more times than I could count, handled everything around the house. Boy's lean, but strong as an ox. And most don't know this, but he can fight. He has a rage button when you hit it, and while he'll never turn his fists on a living thing, I've seen him take it out with an axe and firewood, or punch a bag I put in the backyard for him for just that purpose. From the way he hit it, I knew somewhere along the way, someone taught him how to fight. He could have put Art on his ass at any time, but in Noah's mind, that's not what being a man's about."
"It's about taking care of the one who loves you," Lyda said quietly.
"Exactly." Dorothy inclined her head. "So however long you decide to be with him, I hope you'll remember what a treasure he is."
She didn't assume forever. Apparently his grandmother was a realist about her grandson and knew his relationships didn't last. When footsteps heralded Noah's return, Dorothy's face smoothed out. She gave Gen a wink, Lyda another direct look. "I'm blunt and up front, because I could die in my sleep. I don't believe in putting off what needs to be said. I also don't need a lot of time to see the forest for the trees. You two are the first he's ever brought to meet me, so I know you're important. Pivotal."
After that astounding statement, which had Gen and Lyda exchanging a look, Dot tilted her head, raised her voice. "Did you put one of those little umbrellas in it?"
"Of course I did. It's like a fully stocked tiki bar in there." Noah emerged from the house. Flipping a tray from beneath the arm of her wheelchair, he tightened it into position, putting the drink where she could lean forward and sip through the straw. "I gave Mona her mojito. And a cup of Cheese Nips." When he grimaced, Dorothy bumped his hip with her gnarled fist.
"It's no different at the end than it is at the beginning. You're back to diapers, and your taste buds want what's good, not the damn food pyramid. Why don't I have any Cheese Nips? And a Twinkie. The yellow kind, not the chocolate."
"Good God," he said. Noah handed Lyda's wine to her, the red cherry a cheerful accent to the white-gold color. He looked at Gen. "I'm bringing yours next."
"I wouldn't mind a handful of Cheese Nips if there's enough to go around. Have to keep myself soft, you know."
His eyes sparked humor at her, and Lyda tugged her hair. "Ow," Gen admonished. Dorothy gazed at them as Noah went back inside.
"I want to like you two," she decided. "I hope you won't give me reasons not to."
"I wouldn't hurt Noah for the world," Gen said. If Dot and Lyda were going to be blunt, she was going to join the party. Marguerite wasn't one to beat around the bush, after all, and--Lord in heaven--Chloe mowed right through. When Dot did come to Tea Leaves, she and the irrepressible girl would be fast friends in a heartbeat.
"You haven't been together long enough to know for certain, no matter what you tell me, but do you think you're in love with him?"
Those Cheese Nips hadn't taken very long. About the time Dot asked the question, Noah returned with two snack cups of the bright orange crackers and a Twinkie in hand, as well as Gen's drink. He'd given her a paper umbrella too. As he put Dot's snacks on her tray, he shot Gen a look that told her he was accustomed to his grandmother's lack of social restraint and he'd rescue her with a tactful comment if necessary. His mouth was opening, probably to do just that.
"Yes," she said. "I am."
