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As much as I reveled in being alone, I did not at all enjoy being alone with nothing to do.
“So,” I started, sitting back in the booth, “wanna work in the wood shop when we get home?”
“Can I use the table saw?”
“Absolutely not.”
She made a dismissive noise, but said. “I’m not a baby, you know.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“Your father would murder me if you got your hand chopped off on my watch. So quit asking, for my sake.”
“Fine,” she said with a sigh as Bettie sauntered up, smiling.
The ninety-year-old woman was sprightly for her age and had enough attitude to power a city block. Her silvery-white hair curled and waved, cut to her chin, framing her smiling face. Her lips were a deep red, her eyes bright and blue behind chunky hot-pink glasses. Her black tee, which read Back in my day … in the same shade as her glasses, was tucked into high-waisted wide leg pants, and the tips of her Converse poked out of the hem.
“Would you look at that,” she said. “Keaton and Sophie, out on the town.”
Sophie beamed. “Can I pick a song on the—”
“Jukebox? You bet, kiddo.” She reached into her pocket and dropped a few clinking quarters into Sophie’s waiting hand.
Sophie took off running for the old jukebox, the records the same as they had been since Bettie opened her doors.
Bettie shook her head, amused. “Cinnamon roll pancakes?” she guessed.
I nodded. “And a chocolate malt.”
“Breakfast of champions. And for you?”
“Biscuits and gravy.”
“Coffee?”
“Always.”
The bell over the door chimed, and the world slowed down for the time it took Daisy Blum to walk in, smiling. I didn’t know why it happened like this, but seeing her did something funny to time, stretching it out, and all I could see was her. The little wisps of hair at the nape of her neck, exposed by a high ponytail. The rosy smile on her lips as Aggie greeted her, her eyes forward, not having seen me. The shell of her ear, the shape of her jaw, the whole of her capturing my attention and keeping it without a clue it was happening. But it always did.
I must have looked as much of a fool as I felt, because Bettie smiled with knowing and slid in across from me.
“Heard you and Daisy went on a date the other day.”
“Oh, did you?” I asked with a brow jacked. In my periphery, I watched Daisy approach the counter.
“Course I did. I hear everything.”
“Hate to disappoint you, but Daisy and I are just friends.”
“Sure you are,” she said a certain kind of way that indicated she knew I was full of shit.
“We are. Can’t be anything more than that.”
“And why’s that?”
“Too busy,” was all I said, shrugging like it was that simple.
But damn Bettie—she knew things and had no qualms in telling you so. “Did I ever tell you about when Jack died?”
I sobered at the mention of her husband and shook my head.
“We’d barely been married but a handful of years—I was about how old you were when Mandy died.” She paused, considering it before continuing. “I never thought I’d ever move on. And the trouble with that was, when the chance came, I let it pass me by out of sheer stubbornness. Or at least I told myself so … truth is, I was afraid. Don’t be like me, Keaton. Finding somebody you want like that only happens once for most people. If you’re lucky enough for it to happen again, don’t waste it just to punish yourself for something you didn’t do. Don’t let it walk out the door because you’re scared of it. It’s scary, sure, but that’s life, honey. That’s just life.”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“Bettie, I can’t—”
“Oh yes, you can.”
Before I could argue, she winked and stood up, turning for Daisy.
“Hey, Daisy,” she called from right there next to me.
Daisy smiled, flushing when she saw me. I smiled back and flicked a small wave. On saying something to Aggie, she headed our way.
When Bettie looked back at me, it was with a mischievous look on her face.
“Don’t be a fool, boy,” she said so only I could hear, squeezing my shoulder with her bony hand.
Bettie greeted Daisy, motioning for her to sit, offering a cup of coffee that Daisy accepted. And then Bettie left on a new mission, one that likely kept her away long enough for me to get good and uncomfortable.
“You here for take-out?” I asked, jerking my chin at the counter.
“Mama wanted biscuits, but she’s too busy today to make any. Plus, if I’m being honest,” she leaned forward conspiratorially, “Mama’s don’t hold a candle to Bettie’s.”
A small laugh rumbled in my chest. “Nobody’s do.”
“How about you? What are you up to?”
I nodded toward the jukebox. “Sophie and I needed a break from Fortnight.”
