That done, I straightened my hair, upped the make up for maximum effect, pulled my phone from its charger and made my way to the kitchen as Harper was already sitting at the door looking like he was about to die of starvation.
I had a client consultation booked for this afternoon, followed by the unveiling of a new Mercedes for which I’d been chosen as the attending photographer. I was quite pleased about it and made a note to thank Lizzie for all her hard work as it had been her proposal which had gotten me the job. But first I had to take grandma shopping. Apparently, she had her eye on a new guy and needed an outfit for their date.
I didn’t ask her the details over the phone. Best not to hear some things on an empty stomach. Instead, I filled Harper’s bowl with doggie biscuits and popped a piece of nine grain bread into the toaster and checked the avocados for which was the ripest. Once breakfast was taken care of, I clipped Harper into the backseat of my car and headed to mums.
I made the quick decision to stop in at the drive through coffee shop as my brain was really craving caffeine, so I detoured downtown and pulled into the line-up of cars waiting their turn.
I noted the green station wagon pull in two cars behind and frowned. I’d seen quite a few green wagons this week and wondered what the odds were. But maybe it was like the pregnancy thing. Once you noticed one, you saw them everywhere.
Thankfully, the queue moved quickly and before I knew it the scent of coffee filled my car. Breathing in the goodness, I smiled and continued my journey.
Three sets of traffic lights later, I noticed the green wagon pull up a few cars back.
Huh. That was odd. Even odder, by the time I’d crossed town and was indicating to pull into mum’s street, the wagon was still behind me. Every now and again it moved closer and I’d tried to get a look at the driver, but the sun reflected on the windscreen and made it difficult.
Slowing, I turned into Forest Drive watching the wagon in my rear-view mirror. It slowed too but continued its path along North Westport Boulevard. I shook myself and figured it was a coincidence it was heading in a similar direction that I was.
Mum and dads’ house wasn’t particularly large. Growing up Lizzie and I had shared a bedroom whereas Danny had scored a room all to himself. When Lizzie and I had both left home, mum turned our bedroom into the dining room she’d always craved, and Grandma now had Danny’s old room.
The décor changed regularly as when mum and her sister Auntie Margaret got their heads together it was time to find your sunglasses and bite your tongue. Well, that was my tactic and so far it seemed to work, both shielding my eyes from their offending color schemes and not getting myself banned from mum’s desserts. I did love her desserts and it was common knowledge if you upset her, she would withhold all treats. None of us wanted that so we chose to smile through her interior design choices.
Grandma Mabel met me at the door, her walker at the ready.
“You’re late,” she stated, as Harper trotted in ahead of me.
“You said to be here at nine.”
“And it’s five past already.”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was that important to be here on the dot.”
She swished her teeth. “Well, I don’t want to miss out on all the good buys. Betsy told me she too was heading to this sale and you know what she’s like.”
I didn’t, but I chose to smile and nod.
“Where’s mum?”
“She went out early. Her and Margaret are going into the city to this new warehouse they found which sells fabric. She’s going to redo the dining room curtains.”
Oh geez. I smiled and nodded.
“And dad?”
“He’s gone to visit Carol. It’s his day to take her to the doctor, but he should be back soon.”
I froze wondering if she would tell him the truth.
“So, are you ready?” Grandma asked.
“Of course.”
“You just looked like you were lost in another world for a moment there.”
“Oh, I was just picturing what fabric mum will buy,” I lied. As much as I knew that my family needed to know the truth, it was best to give Carol the chance to share the news first.
I gave Harper a pat, told him to be a good boy until dad got back, and locked the door behind Grandma, as she raced ahead of me to the car. Only when she was buckled in with her walker safely in the car boot, did I ask her where we were going.
“Do you know where the Ivory Lace Bridal Boutique is?”
My heart missed a beat, wondering what she was up to. “Yes.”
“Great. It’s the shop next door to that.”
Phew.
“I thought there was a cycle shop next to that,” I mused, pulling onto North Westport Boulevard. Thankfully no green wagons were waiting for me.
“That’s the one.”
“Huh?”
“The cycle shop has a sale on today and I need to get my outfit ready.”
I gulped. “Who’s your date with?”
“Ted. The bingo caller. After my run in with Carol he was suitably impressed with me.”
“And he asked you out?”
“Well not exactly. But he mentioned he cycles every morning and it’s a great sport and had I ever considered it.”
“That doesn’t sound like a date, though.”
“Wait till he sees me in my new gear. Then he’ll be knocking down the door to ask me out.”
I liked her enthusiasm and go get ‘em attitude. Mum was going to have a heart attack when she found out, but who knows? Maybe events lately would have given her a new outlook on life.
Pro Cycles was in Ivory Lane, named in honor of the bridal shop that had been there for over a hundred years. The cycle shop was reasonably new to Westport and from the signage it seemed to have everything the cyclist could ever want. Not that I was an expert on the subject as I hadn’t ridden a bike since I was nine years old, but I watched the odd moment of the Tour De France so I knew the basics.
I helped grandma get her walker and then followed her inside. Thankfully we’d beaten Betsy as the racks were still filled with women’s clothing, all marked 50% off. With the triathlon coming up I figured this was a good business move.
Making our way along the aisles we were confronted with row after row of bicycles. I noted the price tag on one and nearly choked as I was sure it was more than Lizzie paid for her last car. The walls of the shop were lined with parts. I saw three men at the back of the room fixing bikes at a work bench and two customers were being served at a glass counter.
“Good morning ladies.” A teenage boy who’s name badge told me was Dylan, approached us, his wide smile quietly assessing us. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” said grandma, her eyes travelling the rows stopping on the area marked apparel. “I’m here to buy some clothes.”
“Of course.” Dylan led the way and we were confronted with an awful lot of choices, all of which seemed way too tight for grandma to be wearing.
“So, you cycle?” he asked, directing his smile at me.
“Nut-uh. We’re here for grandma. She’s looking to attract a new man.”
She straightened her shoulders and eyed a purple zipped shirt.
“Has Betsy been in here yet?” she asked Dylan.
“Ummm, Betsy?”