3
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Slash
Slash— real name Amanda Maynard—held Elsa Santini’s hand as they left the exam room en route to the waiting area. While Elsa was relatively sure-footed, her wellness check-up tired her out.
Elsa Santini was the matriarch of the Santini family. Small in stature, she was a strong-willed widow who wore her gray hair short, her makeup light, and her couture clothing wrinkle free. She was kind to everyone, but she was no pushover.
Pausing at the counter, Slash handed the medical admin Elsa’s folder before lifting her phone from her pocket.
“Do you want to book your six-month follow-up now or call us when you’re ready to schedule?” asked the woman.
Tucking her long silver hair behind her ear, Slash regarded Elsa. “What works for you Elsa?”
Elsa smiled. “My schedule is much more flexible than yours.”
Slash jumped ahead six months, selected a date and time. Once the appointment had been booked, she clasped Elsa’s hand and they left the office.
“You don’t have to hold my hand, honey,” Elsa said.
Slash stopped in front of a pothole in the parking lot. “Look down.”
Elsa did.
“That’s why I hold your hand. I’ve got you before you hit the ground, or I steer you around it.”
Elsa smiled. “You take good care of me.”
“Goes both ways.”
At Elsa’s Mercedes, Slash asked, “Are you riding shotgun?”
Elsa laughed. “Always,” she said as she walked over to the passenger side.
Slash got behind the wheel, headed out of the parking lot. “How are you for groceries?”
“I went to the market yesterday.”
“Did someone help you bring the bags inside?”
“Carrera did.”
Slash’s upper lift curled. Rather than make a snide comment, she changed the subject. “You had another great physical, Elsa.” She stopped at a red light. “What’s your secret?”
“I refuse to die.”
Slash laughed. “Nice.”
“What did you decide about my birthday dinner?” Elsa asked.
Before turning down Elsa’s tree-lined, Old Town, Alexandria street, Slash glanced over. She loved this woman with her whole heart. Adored her with every ounce of her being. But there was no way in hell she was attending a Santini family event.
“I thought we’d celebrate together tonight. Just the two of us, like we usually do.”
Slash pulled into Elsa’s driveway, tapped the garage door clicker, and waited for the door to rise before pulling in and parking.
“I want you there,” Elsa pushed back. “And I’m the birthday girl. When you turn eighty-five, you get everything you want.”
