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“That is so. Her neighbor, Mathew. A man nearly fifteen years younger than her.”
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, Dory, but if that was a guy, we’d all be high-fiving him.”
She looked at him over the top of her glasses and frowned. “Would you be high-fiving him if his neighbor was married?”
Matt dropped the bags of groceries they’d stopped for and closed the door. “Okay, now I see the problem.”
“That’s right. My sister the harlot.”
He laughed. “Come on, she’s family. You can’t go around calling her names like that.”
“I certainly can. If not my family than who else?” Dory headed to her kitchen. “That’s the thing about families, Mathew. We sure can’t pick them. We get what we get and we have to muddle through.”
Matt had to agree with Dory on that score.
“My sister is a harlot and shame on her for carrying on with a married man. I don’t care if his wife is in a coma.”
Again, Matt tried to hide a grin. “How long’s she been in a coma?”
“It’s been five years, but that doesn’t make it right. Not at all. Harlot. That’s what she is.” Dory pulled out a pink glazed teapot shaped like a pig’s head and glanced over to Matt. “Are you in a hurry?”
He thought of Grace tangled in his sheets. All that hair. Those lips. That body. The little noises she made when he touched her in the special spots, the spots that made her quiver with desire.
“You’ll have a spot of tea with me before you go?”
Dory looked so damn hopeful that he couldn’t say no. He unpacked the groceries while Dory put them away, and ten minutes later he sat at her kitchen table with a hot cup of tea and a plate of shortbread cookies in front of him.
“So, tell me about Grace.”
He nearly choked on a cookie and once he swallowed it, he took a sip of tea to wash it down.
“She’s at my place. Kind of never left.”
Dory was surprised. He could tell.
“I like her. She’s good for you.” Dory dunked her cookie into her tea. “Where does she normally live? When she’s not staying with you?”
“Nashville, I think.” He frowned, unsure. “Or maybe Florida.”
Dory’s eyebrows rose and she made a ‘tsk’ sound. “You don’t know where her home is?”
“We haven’t really talked about any of that stuff.”
“And why not? Aren’t you interested in her story? I sure am. I’d love to know more about the only woman I’ve met who’s managed to finagle her way—“
“Finagle?”
“Don’t interrupt me, Mathew. Yes. Finagle.” She frowned. “No. Not finagle. That’s not the right word. She’s not devious. She didn’t trick you.” Dory smiled, her faded blue eyes soft. “Sometimes my brain doesn’t work the way I’d like it to. What I mean to say is that she’s the only woman who’s managed to crack that tough exterior of yours. She must be special is all. You know, for you to let her in.”
Matt nodded slowly. “She is special,” he said after a few moments. “But…”
“Oh, Mathew. There’s always a but, isn’t there?” Dory patted his hand. “Let yourself be happy. It’s time don’t you think?”
He didn’t know what to say to that and even if he did, Matt wasn’t so sure he could have answered. Not out loud anyway. He wasn’t used to his personal shit being discussed by Dory or anyone.
“If you don’t allow yourself some kind of happiness, you’ll wake up one day, alone with no family, and find yourself as old as me. I don’t want that for you, Mathew. You’re a good man. I think it’s taken you a long time to realize that you’ve always been a good man. It’s just sometimes the goodness gets buried beneath hurt and pain and circumstance. It becomes dark and loses its light. Sometimes it takes something or someone real special to shine it up again.”
Dory got up from the table and grabbed his empty teacup. “Now. That’s my two cents and I’m not going to say anything more on the subject.” She squeezed his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Other than you should get back to your special someone and spend the day in bed.”
