Page 19 of Hearts on the Line

My mother is the same way. I never know who they’re talking about. “Nope.”

“Oh, well, she loved to harass the mayor about the fact that Merritt Point used to have a Summer Fest in town for years. And then he caved to sponsors and made Fall Fest, instead. Silly, really. But it shows you should always be active in local politics.”

I’m trying my best to keep up as I drive the maze of crowded streets packed with small cottages full of out-of-towners. A man with a bright-red sunburn staggers in front of the car clutching a red Solo cup. I stop, letting a family cross the street, dragging a wagon and an oversized unicorn float I’m sure the lifeguards at the beach will be thrilled about.

June is the last stronghold in her neighborhood. I’ve had to help her break up a few parties that the Airbnb guests throw. Ethan Murphy, killer of a good time.

“I’m not going on a date. Thanks for thinking of me though.”

“I knew it! Are you and Sloane dating?”

I grip the wheel and turn up the radio for a distraction, but my mom is a devoted NPR listener, and it’s some in-depth dive about microbiomes and gut health.

“It’s okay if you are. I won’t tell.”

I level her with a knowing glance.

Mischief dances on her face. “You are!”

“Nana!” I swear I can feel my cheeks grow hot. “We’re not together. She just ran from her wedding. She’s not interested.”

“Well, you could. You’re two consenting adults. Good time for a summer fling.”

“I know how relationships work.”

“Do you? I don’t remember the last one you had.”

“Your memory’s starting to go,” I bite out.

And maybe that’s a little rude, but I’m not planning on rehashing my sex life with my nearly eighty-year-old grandmother.

“Have you talked to her about it?” She conveniently takes another bite of pear, landing a question that’s so loaded the answering crunch of the fruit might as well have been a bomb detonating.

“Sloane’s only here until the Charger’s fixed.”

“I think she still likes you.”

I ignore her, turning into June’s short driveway. My grandmother’s friend is on her porch and gives us a two-handed wave from beneath her lime-green bucket hat, wearing another sweatshirt with a barn owl on it.

“Some time today, you old biddy,” Nana calls out her window.

June cackles. “Are you ready to win big at bingo? I feel lucky today.”

“So does Ethan. He’s dating Sloane.”

“Nana!”

“About time,” June replies, tucking her cane under her arm and climbing into the back seat.

“I’m not dating Sloane,” I grumble.

“Oh, that’s too bad. She still likes you, you know. I always thought you were so cute together.”

“We didn’t date in high school either.”

“Ethan Murphy, you might have fooled a lot of people, but don’t lie to me. I knew.” Nana chuckles, then glances out the window. “I wonder if we’ll get hit by a hurricane this year.”

I give her credit for creativity, but the switch in topics doesn’t fool me.