“That’s not how this works,” a woman in a pair of faded overalls piped up. “This is about consensus.”
“We’re the thirteen musketeers,” interjected another woman with painted eyebrows. “We’re all in. One for all. However it goes.”
“By all means, carry on—only making a suggestion,” Quinn said in a fake hoity tone.
“Is that the pretty one who’s dating your grandson?” Painted Eyebrows’ stage whisper was impossible to ignore. “That still working out? If not, mind if I try to set her up with my Roger?”
Grandma Kane held court at the end of the table like a dowager countess. Annie had dropped her off for book club before ducking in the Brightwater Bugle offices to finish an article.
“I don’t pretend to know what, or whom, my grandson is doing.” Grandma’s frosty tone didn’t inspire much in the way of confidence.
“I’ve heard his truck has been parked in front of her house most every night.”
“I heard that they were spotted in the grocery store together buying hot fudge.”
“I heard that they were seen kissing in the town square and that tongue was most definitely involved.”
Quinn’s cheeks flamed. She knew small towns had a reputation for busybody behavior, but had someone followed her around the last two weeks with a handheld camera?
Finally she glanced up from her stack of inventory. “Um, ladies. I can hear you.”
They all burst out laughing.
“Course you can,” Grandma Kane said. “They’re trying to get a rise.”
“Just trying to have some sorely needed fun, Dorothy. This weather has been giving me a bad case of the grumps,” the woman in overalls said.
“Have your fun with someone else’s family, Beryl. Not mine. Meeting is adjourned.” Grandma rapped her knuckles on the table.
“But we haven’t decided on a title,” Painted Eyebrows protested.
Grandma furrowed her brow. “We’re doing the contemporary. The hero on the cover reminds me of Chris Pratt.”
“Chris Brat?” Another piped up. “Who’s that?”
“Pratt,” Grandma snapped. “P like phenomenal.”
“But that sounds like an F.”
“Sounds like but isn’t.”
“What’s a Pratt?” another member asked, turning up her hearing aid, the high-pitched squeak making everyone jump.
“He’s an actor. Guardians of the Galaxy?” Quinn interjected. “Jurassic World?”
Twenty-four eyes stared blankly at her.
“Good taste, Mrs. Kane.” Quinn gave a thumbs-up.
Grandma ignored her.
P also stands for poleaxe. Grandma Kane had quite the hatchet face. Imagine having been raised by her—no wonder Wilder ran out of town. But then, Sawyer and Archer seemed to regard her with real affection, and she returned it.
What had happened between her and her oldest grandson?
The contemporary romance winners moved on from bickering over phonetic pronunciations and began high-fiving each other over their victory while the BDSM fans marched out grumbling under their breath. It looked like Grandma had the final say even outside of Hidden Rock Ranch.
And as the shop emptied, it also looked like the two of them were going to be alone for a bit. Quinn gave the wall clock a covert glance.
“Still fifteen minutes until Annie is due to fetch me.”
“I wasn’t—”
Grandma smiled tightly. “Don’t feed me a line, dearie. I can smell your fear a mile away.”
“Fear?” Quinn lifted her chin. “You think I’m scared of you?”
“Everyone is.”
Quinn laughed despite herself. “Now I know where Wilder gets it from.”
“Gets what?”
Quinn arched a brow. “That tough-as-nails routine.”
“Hrumph.” Grandma opened up her purse and made a careful study of its contents.
“Wilder wants to make you proud, you know.”
“Know? Know?” Grandma’s voice rose an octave. “What would I know about Wilder Kane? There’s a boy that doesn’t want to be known, pushes everyone away. Always has.”
“He does.” Quinn came out from around the counter. “He does that so much.”
“You think you can roll around in the hay or whatever it is you do for a couple of weeks and presume to tell me how it is with a boy I’ve known since he was whizzing in diapers?”
Quinn paused, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I think I can. Sometimes a situation can be better assessed with a fresh pair of eyes.”
“Doesn’t look like your eyes see all that great.” Grandma sniffed, waving her hands in the direction of Quinn’s glasses.
“Wow.” Quinn took a seat. “You really bring out the heavy artillery to keep people at bay, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you are yammering about.” Grandma returned to her handbag rummage. “I’m just going to sit here and wait for my harebrained daughter-in-law to fetch me. No, wait, not daughter-in-law because right now she’s living in sin with my Sawyer.”
Quinn propped her hand on her chin. “They seem serious.”
Grandma wrinkled her nose in response. “Serious is when he sticks a ring on her finger and gives me some legitimate grandbabies.”
“Legitimate?” Quinn smothered a smile. “We aren’t in the middle ages anymore.”
“This is Brightwater, not Hollywood. Traditional family values still matter here. At least to the old-time families.”
“Hey now, I’m a Higsby, remember?”
“To a degree.” Grandma pulled out an Us Weekly from her purse. No wonder she was current on all the hot young actors.
“Hey!” An idea occurred to her. Good or bad was impossible to say, but worth a shot. She didn’t need this woman to bless her relationship, but sensed it would mean the world to Wilder. “Would you be willing to come to my house?”
Grandma glanced over the top of the magazine with a startled expression. “Now why would I want to do that?”
“I’d like to make you and Wilder dinner. The three of us. You and I can get acquainted and you and he . . . well, you can get reacquainted?”
“Does that boy know about your cockamamie idea?”
“Of course.” It was a little startling how smoothly the lie rolled off her tongue. “In fact, it was his suggestion.”
Grandma shook her head. “Now I know you’re telling tales out of school.”
“I’m serious. How does tomorrow night sound?”
The bells to the front door tinkled.
“Evening, ladies. Brrrrrrr, it’s freezing outside.” Annie came in pink cheeked and bright eyed, her small frame buried under a bright yellow jacket, red wool scarf, and ladybug winter boots. Somehow the whole eclectic combo looked perfect on her.
“I was just telling Grandma here how Wilder and I wanted to have her over to my place for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Oh.” Annie blinked as if to say “Are you sure about that?” Instead, she managed to say, “What a wonderful idea. She’d love that.”
“My hip might be bum but I have a pair of perfectly functioning vocal cords,” Grandma snapped. “And wonderful and love aren’t the words I’m searching for.”
“I know you aren’t driving much these days on account of your fall last summer but how about Wilder comes and picks you up at six?” Quinn crossed her fingers under the table. Please don’t let him kill me.
“Six? Won’t work. I eat at five,” Grandma said grimly.
Annie clucked her tongue. “Isn’t it fun to try new things, step out of the ho-hum routine?”