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“Yes. Chuck has come and gone.” Like Kelcie, cardio and dance instructor, who was nowhere to be seen. And speaking of the bubbly blonde, “We aren’t going to hip hop cardio in the morning, are we?”
“No.” Grandma Dotty slouched deeper in her seat with a disappointed sigh. “Kelcie only teaches hip hop cardio on Mondays and Fridays. She invited us to marching camp tomorrow morning though.”
Marching camp? Did I miss the latest exercise craze?
There had to be an explanation. “Um… You mean band camp? Does Kelcie think you can learn something from a band majorette?” And more importantly, was this something Vi could skip?
“No.” Her grandmother peered from beneath a fluff of blue-gray faux fur. “Kelcie said we’d be racking up the vegetables.”
Marching bands? Vegetables? Add that to the residual impact of hot kisses. Vi was too confused to speak.
“Ending in a squash party,” Grandma Dotty said as if she knew what she was talking about. “I pre-paid our attendance because it sounded like so much fun. Really, Vi. Get with the times. Marching camp is all the rage.”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned and not happily. “You signed us up forboot campwith asquat party?”
“Yes, yes. That’s it.” Grandma Dotty sat up, hood falling away and jacket falling from her skinny shoulders until she looked like she was emerging from a puffy white sleeping bag. “Kelcie said I’d dance better for Xuri if we did her marches.”
Vi groaned. “Must I go?”
“Yes. Do you know what keeps me young and mentally sharp?” Grandma Dotty stood, gathering her jacket in her arms. She gave Vi a haughty stare. “New things. It’s why I have a bucket list. Now, don’t argue. I’ve already called for a ride in the morning and requested Chuck as our driver.”
Violet groaned again, grabbing a nearby pillow, and crushing it to her face.
*
Coop knew he had nothing to smile about.
He had nothing his father wanted—no gift, no life goal, no meaningful existence planned, other than getting Vivi to kiss him again.
He smiled anyway. He smiled through exercising a variety of horses in the arena at Beeswax Farm. He smiled through helping Rafi finish mucking out stalls. He smiled during the drive into town in his barely held-together pickup and back to the small apartment he shared with his boss Paul over Lotus Imports & Motor Repair.
Coop parked in the back lot next to an older model Ferrari with its hood up and a Corvette with a flat tire.
Paul walked out of the garage, phone in one hand, container of engine oil in another. “Yes, Mrs. Greenburg. We’ll have a driver to you promptly at seven.” He hung up and handed Coop his phone, wiping a bead of sweat dotting his gray hairline. “Put those details in the car service calendar for me, will you?”
“Sure.” Coop entered the information in Paul’s app. And then he checked the schedule for the early morning shift. “Dotty Summer’s going to exercise early again.” He shamelessly entered Dotty’s phone number into his own phone. The sweet old gal liked him. She’d divulge Vivi’s number.
“You know my kid is coming out next week, right?” Paul had finished putting oil in the classic Ferrari. He closed the hood. “I hate to do this to you, Chuck, but I need that bed you’re sleeping on a week from Friday.”
Coop’s smile wavered. Everyone in the Hamptons who wasn’t wealthy seemed to struggle with affordable housing. Coop had known his time renting from Paul was coming to an end, but he’d hoped for a few more weeks. “I’ll find something.” Not his family’s house. His father would never approve of that. But someone had to have a spare bed somewhere.
“I’ll ask around, too, kid.”
The two men walked toward the garage.
“I’m going to grab a sandwich at the deli.” And then Coop needed a shower and to change into his suit to drive wealthy vacationers who wanted to avoid the hassle of parking to-and-from dinner. “Want anything?”
“No, thanks. Delilah invited me to dinner.” Paul chuckled. “She’s a good cook and her engine needs a tune-up again.”
“You two say you’re bartering, but I think Delilah is sweet on you.”
“Wouldn’t matter.” Paul tsked. “When I got divorced, I vowed never to dance another round with love.”
The two men parted ways.
Coop walked out of the back lot, passing the main office and its lavish waiting room, bringing Dotty’s number up on his phone and preparing to give her a call.
The door to the office swung open behind him. “Coop? Cooper Pearson?”
