Page 12 of High Water

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Chase comments from his seat at the table, his face half hidden by the spray of green leaves emanating from the large floral arrangement at the center.

“Did I get the time wrong?” I look at my grandmother, who’s already grinning up at me from behind a plate of bruschetta and olives.

“No. We’re just having drinks and appetizers. Chase got here earlier to take me around the gardens because he has to leave before they serve dinner.”

So much for family dinner. Not that I’m particularly put out. Despite not having to live with him, Chase got many of my father’s worst qualities. Including the narcissistic ones, where he thinks everyone else’s schedule should revolve around his.

“I see.”

“It just means more time for the two of us to chat.”

“Well, I am excited to hear about your pinochle club and the gossip on Betty and Charles’s breakup.” I flash her a bright grin.

The drama at my grandmother’s upscale assisted living facility never ceases. It’s like they’re all back in high school again and clamoring for the same cliques and attention they once were seven decades earlier. I grin at the thought of her and Fallon getting to chat about it over a game of cards.

“Oh yes. The plot has thickened there. So much to tell. But we should get you a drink first. Tiffany should be around here somewhere with the lemonade.” My grandmother sits up straighter and cranes her neck for one of the dining hall staff before waving her hand in the air.

“I like that color on you.” I compliment her deep red nails. She’s always changing up the colors, every shade of pink and red, and occasionally a lavender or a spring green when she’s feeling adventurous. Her hairstyle’s been the same for four decades, but her nails change weekly.

“Thanks. Jenny said it’s my color. I used to wear a shade similar to this when I met your grandfather. I figure it might help me get a date to the spring dance.” She grins at me.

“Colter isn’t taking you?”

“Colter and I broke up after the holidays. Nothing but a holiday fling to get his family off his back about making more friends around here. I let him borrow mine. He let me borrow his whiskey collection for the card game I hosted. Then we went our separate ways.”

“I see. I suppose that’s a good deal.”

“Whatever it takes to get the good stuff.”

“You know I’d bring you whatever kind of whiskey you wanted, Grams.” Chase gives my grandmother a smile I can only call smarmy.

“I know you could. But the last time I sent you, you got me that cheap stuff. I want the kind that puts hair on your chest. I don’t think they sell that over where you live.” She hits him with a barb, however unintended.

“I do have a car.” Chase keeps the smile on his face, but his eyes betray him. He was no better off than me financially. It’s part of the reason he’s probably gunning for that property too.

“Isn’t it on its last legs? I thought you were telling me it needed new tires and something about a gasket?” She looks back at him once she’s satisfied she finally has Tiffany’s attention. Chase was always asking Grams for something without really asking.

“Yes, but it can make its way to the liquor store all right.”

“Well, bring me some next time, and we’ll see what you come up with then.” She’s barely paying attention as Tiffany saunters up to the table.

She’s been gunning to get me to take Tiffany out on a date. She loves the woman, but the woman is also ten years younger than me, and pretty or not, she’s not my type. Even in a world where Aspen doesn’t exist. In the one where Aspen does exist, and I can still smell the scent of her favorite lotion and feel her body against mine? I couldn’t give a damn about the Tiffanys of the world. But for politeness’s sake, I smile at her as she pours a lemonade.

“You’re the best, sweetheart. I was just telling my boys here about the fun we’ve been having around the place. You know Tiffany stopped by for the whiskey tasting?” My grandmother gives me a pointed look.

“Did she?”

“She did. She had a whiskey sour, right? But you know I’m out of practice pouring a good one. She really needs to go to a nice bar. They have one down there in your neck of the woods, don’t they, Bishop?”

“I’m afraid it burned down last year. They’re working on getting it reopened though.” I still have my loft up here, but I’d been spending almost all of my time down in Purgatory Falls. I’m not sure which she means, but either way, it’s not an option.

“Well, maybe when it reopens, you can take her on a whiskey-tasting tour.” My grandmother makes her most direct push yet.

“I don’t know if Tiffany wants to go all the way out into the mountains to get a whiskey sour. I bet she can get a decent glass right here in town.” I push back on the idea, but I give Tiffany an apologetic smile in the process. I don’t think she’s any more interested in me than I am in her, but my grandmother doesn’t seem to care.

“They do make a good one down at the Next Peak.” Tiffany suggests a bar I’ve been to once or twice in town. I guess she’s at least open to my grandmother’s suggestions.

“I’ve heard that. I usually prefer mine neat.” I keep my answer short and to the point.