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I nod. “Mostly.”
“You know so much about Taylor Swift.” This comes from Mrs. Petersen.
I glance over at her. “I do. Been a fan since the first time I heard her.”
The next few minutes are spent discussing which albums the ladies like the most. I find it weird that Mrs. James, who said I was living in sin, is a Lady Gaga fan. I would think she wouldn’t be so judgmental.
“I take it my grandson is settling in this morning.”
Estella doesn’t ask a question. She makes a pronouncement. Like she ordered it, and it should happen. That’s Estella for you. And the entire room goes silent, and I can almost feel all the LOLs leaning forward.
“I guess. He showed up at that crack of dawn, made some disgusting breakfast, then went to work in the office.”
Of course, I leave out all the yearning I did. The only way I would admit to it is to annoy him.
“Oh. I hope he didn’t get in the way.”
I shake my head. “I’m not really…no. I like to work on my laptop in the den.”
She nods knowingly. It’s weird how much we seem to understand each other. We’re an odd pair of friends—I guess that’s what I would call us. She doesn’t seem to invite other people to her house for family dinners. I liked them better when Jon wasn’t there.
Still, she seems to understand my anxiety issues. I hide them from just about everyone, including my family. Whenever I act weird or say something outlandish, it’s a way to divert their attention from whatever freak-out I am having. If I act quirky, they roll their eyes and go on their way. The one thing I couldn’t take was the pity most of them would feel for me if they realized that many of my quirks were cover.
I shove that thought aside and focus on the ladies. People might think the LOLs are just old biddies with nothing better to do than gossip about what’s happening in town. But they are so much more than that.
They organized a knit-in to send blankets to kids in Ukraine, they handle just about all the food drives in town, and they have worked on adding more diversity to the city council. These ladies have it going on.
“So, what do you think about Jon?” This comes from Mrs. Reynolds. She and her husband had a veterinarian practice for years. Their daughter and son run it now.
I shrug. I don’t want to let on how I feel about Jon. If I start ranting about him, they will think I’m attracted to him. Iamdrawn to him, but what woman wouldn’t be? He’s hot in a totally nerdy way. I bet he even has vests.
“Avery, dear, you are okay with him living there, right?” Estella asks.
“Oh, yeah. I don’t actually worry about him. I’m more worried about the guy behind us.”
“Tsk, tsk,” Mrs. Petersen says. “I don’t know what that man’s problem is. I smiled and waved at him, and he frowned at me and went on his way.”
“You know how some of these people are when they rent houses in small towns,” Mrs. Reynolds says. “They say they like small towns and want the peace and friendly faces, but when you try to talk to them, they think you’re going to mug them.”
I smile at that. Mrs. Reynolds is just an inch or two over five feet and probably weighs less than a hundred pounds. Given his height and weight, Creepy Dude would be a lot to tackle.
All of them nod, and I see they are gearing up for a lengthy discussion on why small towns are fantastic, so I cut them off.
“Why don’t we get started on your ideas for the LOL TikTok? Does everyone have a theme they want to explore?”
It’s the one thing I told them to have ready when we started today.
They all nod, and we start to work. The time flies by as it always does with these ladies. Interestingly enough, Estella has TikTok on her phone but doesn’t want to post. She tried to keep tabs on her new friends, although she didn’t say that. Also, I know she wants to watch Nancy and Travis’ videos.
By the time we start to pack up, it’s been over two hours. Everyone heads off, but Estella hangs back.
“I wanted to make sure that you really are okay with Jon living with you.”
I would love to tell her no, I am not okay with him there. But I know what she’s asking. She wants to see if I feel safe. And while I am uncomfortable with my own attraction, I don’t feel he would hurt me.
“Yes.”
“Avery,” she says, in that voice that I bet gets people worried she will fire them. I don’t work for her, and it takes a lot to scare me.
