I wince, squinting my eyes until they’re almost shut. “Both?”
“Honestly, that’s better than I expected.”
“The oil business?” Grandmother looks beyond me, over at the wall behind where I’m sitting in her parlor. “Hmm. Do I know anyone …”
“What’s this about?” Peter joins us with a pot of tea.
No matter how many times Grandmother reminds him he doesn’t need to act like a paid servant anymore—she’s hired help to replace him now that they’re together as a couple—old habits die hard. He’s used to taking care of her, seeing to her needs. I guess when things have been a certain way for more than thirty years, it’ll take more than a few months to change it up.
“My new book hero has to be a cowboy,” I explain while he pours for the three of us.
He gives me a wink. “I didn’t know you rode.”
“I’m sure I could learn.”
“The only people I’ve ever known who made their living in oil are long dead,” Grandmother confesses with a shrug.
I can’t wait to tell Hayley I was right, no matter how immature it makes me. It probably shouldn’t have been my first thought, but a girl has to take her victories someplace, and Hayley is a super genius who’s almost never wrong about anything.
“I figured it was worth asking.” I pick out an egg salad sandwich with the crusts cut off. “Is this your egg salad recipe?” I ask Peter.
“Of course. I know better than to try to serve you someone else’s recipe.”
So, maybe Grandmother isn’t the only person he likes to do little things for.
“You know”—Grandmother places her cup and saucer on the table between us with a thoughtful expression—“I am chairing a charity ball, scheduled to take place this weekend. It’s for the Children’s Hospital. There are bound to be a few heavy hitters there.”
Why does Peter look so relieved?
“That’s a good idea. She could go with you.”
She turns to him with a frown. “My, it didn’t take long for you to arrive at that conclusion.”
Whoops. Something tells me there’s been trouble in paradise, and I walked right into it.
I take a second sandwich just for the sake of having something to do. Good thing they’re so yummy.
“Don’t be offended.” He pats her hand with a gentle smile. “But we’ve had this discussion. It would be better for you if someone other than myself attended the ball with you.”
Oh, of course. Yet another issue that won’t magically go away. The fact that Grandmother has already cut people out of her life for being anything less than thrilled when they found out she and Peter started a relationship. I can only hope I’m as kick-ass as she is someday.
And I very much wish I’d been there when she told off her number one frenemy, Whitney.
I clear my throat. “I’m always up for a ball.” This is a lie. I don’t love going to these fancy-schmancy events. Usually wondering in the back of my mind how long it’ll take before I do something awkward.
Not if do. When I do. It’s pretty much inevitable.
If it gets Peter off the hook though, I’ll gladly go. Not only has he taken care of her all these years, but he’s also made her so happy since they got together after her heart attack a few months ago. Life events like a heart attack tend to put things into perspective and show us what we otherwise were missing.
Plus, I do need to find a cowboy. Hayley made a good point. Wealthy, old men generally have wealthy grandsons, and it’s the grandsons I’m interested in.
Grandmother seems to shake herself a little before turning to me, like she forgot I was here. Too busy staring daggers at her boyfriend. “Well, dear, since it would appear I’m suddenly going solo, I would love to have you there. And even if we don’t land you an oil magnate, there are bound to be scads of wealthy, young men there.”
I glance at Peter. “Hey, it doesn’t matter if they’re wealthy. I don’t care about that.”
Like he needs to hear her going on about money right now. Sometimes, she just doesn’t think. I love her to pieces, but she’s not always sensitive to how her comments might be taken.
It strikes me—and not for the first time—that Peter has to be a brave man. It’s one thing for him to deal with her social circle being a bunch of snobs, but then he has to deal with her, and that can’t be a walk in the park.
At least he’s used to her ways. He wouldn’t love her if he wasn’t.
Why does that immediately bring Matt to mind?
“Oh dear.”
Thank goodness my grandmother figures out a way to change the subject because, now, I don’t know what the heck sort of tricks my brain is trying to pull on me. Making me think of Matt just because he said he liked me the way I was.
I mean, why wouldn’t he? I’m a freaking treat.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I nearly forgot. There’s something else I wanted to discuss with you.”
When her blue eyes slide over toward Peter and they share a slight grin, I don’t know whether to be glad for the change of subject or regretful. They’re plotting something.
“I’m afraid to ask … what is it?”
“You might or might not recall, but there’s a special day coming at the end of this month …” Her grin turns to a smile.
“Oh jeez.” I blow out a long sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “You know I don’t go for the big, fancy gestures, Grandmother. I don’t need anything special.”
“But you deserve it, which is another issue entirely.”
“Can I talk you out of wanting to plan something?”
Peter chuckles. “Talk your grandmother out of wanting to plan something? Why not talk the sun out of the sky while you’re at it?”
Grandmother lets him know how she feels about this with a single sniff before tossing her head. “Fine. If you would rather everyone ignore your birthday this year, that’s just wonderful.”
“I didn’t say—”
“Just because it means a great deal to see my granddaughter happy.”
“You don’t have to cancel every—”
She heaves a sigh I would laugh at if she wasn’t using it against me. “Don’t worry about me, dear. I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated to your grandmother simply because there’s no telling how many of your birthdays I’ll live to see.”
My jaw’s on the floor by the time she turns to Peter.
“I think I need to go upstairs and lie down.”
“You’re strong as an ox, and you know it.” He laughs, though he does stand to help her to her feet.
I’m getting my things together when he joins me in the front hall.
He runs a hand over his head and what little gray hair is left. “She really is something.”
“Yeah, she is.” I look up the stairs. “And super subtle.”
“You can’t be too hard on her. She likes to have her way, yes. But in this case, she wants to do something nice for you because she loves you.”
“Which is the only reason I didn’t flat-out refuse. But her idea of a good time and mine are totally different. I don’t want one of those swanky parties. I want to feel like I can breathe and be myself without dozens of pairs of eyes staring at me and judging me.”