Dana gave her a dirty look. “This is just introducing us to see if we want to meet for drinks at some point, right? It’s not a setup for a date.”
“You still want to look nice,” said her grandmother. “That shirt is nice.”
Dana thought fast; she’d rather meet this guy in her hole-filled sweats than wear the shirt. “I’d like to save the shirt for a real date, if that happens,” she said, putting just the right amount of pathos in her voice.
Her grandmother looked thrilled by her use of the word date. “Completely understandable.”
“So we’re a go,” Molly said triumphantly. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”
CHAPTER THREE
Does tying your own grandmother to a chair qualify as elder abuse? Maybe not, if it’s for her own good, Dana thought, watching her grandmother anxiously pace the living room. As planned, a phone call had been placed to Josh Green, and he was stopping by her grandparents’ condo around six. That in itself was not unnerving; it was the way her grandmother sounded talking to him on the phone, all helpless and coquette-ish on a level that would make Scarlett O’Hara proud. Oh, Rhett. Rhett, please. Why, this white frangipani in my kitchen—I do believe it’s dyin’ a most piteous death, Rhett. Oh, please, do come.
And now here she was, wearing a groove in the carpet as if awaiting royalty. “Where is he? It’s six.”
“ ‘Around six’ means anywhere from quarter to six till quarter after six,” said Dana’s grandfather, eyeing his wife warily from the couch, where he sat thumbing through The Palm Beach Post.
“No, it means six,” her grandmother insisted.
“If he’d meant six on the dot, that’s what he’d have said.”
Her grandmother looked exasperated. “Sam? Go over to your friend, Ernie’s, please, and leave me in peace. You’re frazzling my nerves.”
Dana’s potbellied grandfather hoisted himself off the low-slung couch and, forcing her grandmother to stop in her tracks, kissed her on the cheek. “Anything you wish, my moon and stars.” He winked at Dana before beating a hasty retreat, at least as hasty as an eighty-year-old man could retreat.
Dana smiled to herself from where she sat on the couch with her feet tucked up beneath her, book in hand. She loved the way her grandfather still teased her grandmother. Her grandmother often seemed exasperated with him, but Dana and everyone else knew she truly wasn’t. It was simply convenient shorthand between them that had been perfected over decades of being together. You be the know-it-all, I’ll be the long-suffering one, and occasionally we’ll trade places. Despite their seemingly adversarial stance, Dana had never once heard them raise their voices at one other.
The doorbell rang, and Dana’s grandmother’s halted mid-pace, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you getting up?”
“He’s here to look at your plant, correct?”
“And for you to get a look at him.”
“I can get a look from here.”
“So help me God, you make your mother look like she was an easy child.” Her grandmother glanced at the front door in desperation. “Will you at least come over and introduce yourself?”
“Calm down, Gran. Of course I will. Now go answer the door before you have a stroke.”
As her grandmother hustled to open the door, Dana chided herself for being nervous. So he was a big-time architect with a degree from Cornell. So what? She could picture his office: glass, minimalist, right on the water. Framed blue prints on the wall of some of his most successful architectural designs. A softly lit cabinet of trophies. A bonsai tree or two.
A deep, rich voice sounded in the hall. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Fine. That row of painting line hibiscus along the back of Building Five is dying, and I can’t figure out why. Anyway, I had to replace them. Let’s see what’s up with your frangipani.”
One point for Josh Green: he had a nice voice. Dana slowly uncurled herself from the couch, heading for the kitchen. She was almost there when she found herself enveloped by an unpleasantly earthy smell. A crew of maintenance workers was probably planting some flowers; Josh Green’s opening the door had let the aroma slip inside for a moment.
She expected to walk in the kitchen and see a handsome man her age in chinos and a tennis shirt. Instead, much to her chagrin, it turned out that Josh Green was the early morning landscaper she’d seen staring at bushes the day before. Of course, that early in the day, he probably didn’t stink of sweat the way he did now, and she was fairly sure his arms and legs hadn’t been streaked with dried dirt and plant material.
He was crouched on the white tile floor, carefully examining the frangipani petals her grandmother had plucked, crumpled, and scattered as part of her and Molly’s master plan.
“Hmmm.” Josh picked up one of the plucked flowers, turning it over in his hand.
“You sure you don’t have a cat or something that might have ripped them off?”
“No pets allowed, remember?”
“Right.”
“I’m not worried about a few flowers wilting. The whole plant looks like it’s wilting.” Discretion not being her strong suit, Dana’s grandmother didn’t wait for him to respond before launching into, “Have you met my granddaughter, Josh? Her name is Dana.”
Josh rose, and went to the sink to wash his hands. Drying them, he held out a hand to Dana. “Josh Green.”
Dana hesitated before taking his hand. “Dana.”
“Nice to meet you.” He looked at his hands, checking them over thoroughly. “I can go wash them again with bacterial soap if you want.”
Dana swallowed, embarrassed. “No, no, I didn’t mean—”
“Dana’s the director of retail expansion for the La Belle Femme chain of boutiques,” her grandmother cut in. “She’s overseeing the one that’s opening in Palm Beach over Labor Day weekend.”
“I think my boys are doing the landscaping there.”
Dirt, sweat, and body odor—they were making it hard for Dana to focus on the light green eyes and brown curly hair she knew were there. She tried to picture him all cleaned up, but things kept jumping out at her: a gash on his forearm in need of a Band-Aid, a small swath of dried dirt on his cheek. It didn’t work.
Dana’s grandmother’s eyes lit up. “Did you hear that, Dana? Josh’s crew might be doing some landscaping by the store. That’s exciting.”
Josh caught Dana staring at a thick, dried patch of mud on his shoulder. “I’m betting you don’t have a garden.”
“I’m barely home,” Dana murmured, mortified by her blatant scrutiny of him. As far as she knew, she’d never been so indiscreet checking a guy out in her life.
“That’s too bad. Digging your hands down deep in the earth, creating something—it can be very gratifying.”
“If that’s what you like,” Dana replied politely.
Her grandmother was beginning to look panicked. “Josh, did I tell you Dana was single?”
Dana’s embarrassment skyrocketed. “Grandma.”
Josh directed his attention toward Dana’s grandmother. “Don’t worry about the frangipani. Give it a little less water, okay?”
Her grandmother nodded as if God himself had spoken. “Okay, Josh.”
“Good luck with the store opening,” he said to Dana, looking and sounding sincere.
“Thank you.”
“If you need anything else done, just call me, Mrs. Fine.”
“Of course, Josh.”
With that he smiled again, and left.
“So?” Dana’s grandmother had her hands clasped together hopefully as they returned to the living room couch. “What did you think of him?”
“He’s a glorified gardener.”
Her grandmother blanched. “What? He’s got a degree from Cornell.”
“Then what’s he doing out there digging in the hot sun? He’s a gardener, Gran. You only know him because he’s part of the maintenance crew here.”
“That crew works for him, Dana. Plus, Molly already told you: he’s an archite
ct. A landscape architect.”
Dana was silent.
“Fine, don’t say anything. The important thing is, would you go for a drink with him if he asked?”
“Grandma, he looked like he came out of the swamp!”
“The man spends most of his time working outside for a living,” her grandmother snapped. “You can tell how handsome he is beneath the dried mud.”
“No, you can’t!”
“Let me tell you something.” Her grandmother did what was known in the family as “the point,” crooking a bony index finger extremely close to her granddaughter’s face. “I’ve talked to him, Dana. Many, many times. He’s nice. He’s smart. He works hard. And if you’re seriously thinking about getting married and starting a family soon, Josh Green is the kind of man you want.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Goddamn it, man. It’s so hot, it’s a miracle I’m not tripping over my own balls.”
Josh slowly nodded in agreement with Eduardo, the tall, wiry foreman of his top landscaping crew. “Hot” didn’t even begin to cover it. Mopping his face with a bandanna that had been soaked in cold water, Josh hoped for some temporary relief. The problem was that with heat like this, the bandanna would be dry within minutes. “What happened yesterday with Mrs. Fine wanting to see you?” Eduardo wanted to know, looking irritated. “Another stupid complaint about her hibiscus plants not being uniformly red?”
“That’s Mrs. Arbisser in Building Seven.”
“Ah, you’re right. I’m thinking of Cotton Candy Head.”
“Right.”
Josh shook his head good-naturedly. Eduardo was a damn good foreman, but sometimes, working at the gated retirement communities that were their bread and butter got to him. He resented that to the residents, he and Josh were just faceless gardeners who maintained their lawns and shrubberies. Josh could care less about what the retirees thought: he was making more money than he ever could have dreamed, and was designing enough landscapes on his own for private home owners that he was earning a reputation.
“So. Mrs. Fine—?” Eduardo pressed.
“She wanted me to take a look at the frangipani plant she has in her kitchen.”
“And—?”
“Same old, same old.” Josh grabbed an ice cube out of one of the coolers and began running it over his dirt-flecked face. “What she really wanted was for me to check out her granddaughter.”
Eduardo nudged Del, the other guy on the crew, in the ribs. Del didn’t talk much, but Josh didn’t care about that, either. As long as the guy worked hard and had no criminal record, he was free to speak two words a day or two thousand.
“Are you listening to this?” Eduardo cracked. “She wanted him to check out her granddaughter.”
“It happens all the time.”
“Get the fuck out of here, mijo, you got it wrong. They want the girls to check you out. And take it from me: you don’t have a chance in hell. If I were a woman, the last man I’d go out with is someone who looks like he’s been rolling in a ditch all day. None of them would even walk down the street with you.”
Josh shrugged. “I don’t care. I don’t need anyone’s help when it comes to women.”
“This kind of stuff never happens to me,” Del muttered.
Josh and Eduardo stared at him in shock. This was the first piece of personal information he’d ever offered.
“It doesn’t,” Del repeated.
“Maybe if you talked more,” Josh suggested.
“Yeah, and got two front teeth or something,” Eduardo added helpfully.
Del still looked gloomy. “Maybe.”
Josh waited to see if Del had anything else to add, but he didn’t. “Like I said,” he continued, picking up the thread of his conversation with Eduardo, “I don’t need these introductions, but obviously, these women do. Which makes me wonder: what’s wrong with them?”
“Maybe nothing is wrong with them,” Eduardo retorted. “Maybe they’re tired of meeting jerks.”
“How do they know I’m not a jerk?”
“Because you’ve been vetted by Granny.”
Josh rubbed the ice cube across the back of his neck. “The one I met yesterday was cute: petite, with big brown eyes and long blond hair. I might have gone out with her if the circumstances were different.”
“Different how?”
“If she looked at me with the respect you should show anyone you were meeting for the first time.”
“What, you expected her to be excited by a guy who shows up looking like a grave digger? You expect too much, my friend.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault. It’s not like I ever know when one of these old women is going to ambush me.”
Eduardo plucked on his lower lip. “True. Now I’m back on your side. Screw anyone who shows no respect for a hardworking man.” He took his water bottle and squeezed some water over his head, his expression momentarily blissful as it trickled down his face and neck. “Do you know what she does?”
“She’s retail director for some expensive chain of boutiques. She’s down here because the newest one is opening in Palm Beach on Labor Day weekend.”
“I hope she has some Valium and thousand dollar bills to make change with.”
“Amen to that.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Since the dawn of time, people have made sacrifices for those they love, Dana told herself. Today, hers was wearing the hideous beige shirt with gold epaulets in order to make her grandmother happy.
“We’re gonna be late,” her grandmother called out from the living room. She’d been ready to go to her friend’s wedding for an hour already. Now she was driving Dana and her grandfather crazy.
“Calm down.” Dana’s grandfather’s voice was gruff but affectionate as he called back to her from behind the closed door of the master bathroom. “We’ve got more than enough time.”
Dana knew her grandmother: inside, she was cursing her grandfather up and down, mainly because she knew he was right.
Dana forced herself to again look in the mirror in her bedroom. Nice pants, nice heels, nice nails, nice hair, nice face, and then ... the shirt. God, what was that show her mother used to watch? The Love Boat? Dana looked like she could be the first mate on The Love Boat.
She tried to put it in perspective. It was only a few hours of her life, and it was worth it to please her grandmother. Her grandmother’s friend, Lois, was getting married to her “longtime” boyfriend, John. According to Dana’s grandmother, it had been “love at first sight” about three months after John’s wife died. Dana found the timeline shocking, until her grandmother explained something to her: what younger people might consider “hasty” nuptials didn’t hold here. Here, everyone knew that they didn’t have all the time in the world, and when a chance for happiness came along, you had to snatch it up as fast as you could.
“Grandma,” Dana called out. “I still don’t understand why I was invited to Lois’s wedding.”
“I told you,” her grandmother called back. “Lois wants to meet you.”
“What a bunch of crap,” Dana’s grandfather hollered. He’d joined her grandmother in the living room. “Lois has a grandson who’s king of some computer company. She wants you two to meet.”
Dana entered the living room just in time to see her grandmother pinching the ridge of her nose dramatically. “Shut up for once in your life, Sam? Please?”
He turned his palms up plaintively. “See how she treats me?” he asked Dana. “All I do is give her love, and what do I get in return? A kick in the ass.”
“That’s why our marriage has been such a success,” her grandmother deadpanned. “Both the wedding and the reception are being held at the clubhouse,” she told Dana. “It’ll be nice.”
Dana nodded, dutifully followed her grandparents to the door.
“Unless Ben Barry is there,” said her grandfather, making a face. “Total moron. Trying to tell me the origins of World War Two.”
Her grandmother sighed.
<
br /> “I was a goddamn history professor for fifty years and he’s telling me?”
“Ignore him,” Dana’s grandmother said.
Dana’s grandfather fiddled in his jacket pocket for the house keys. “Oh, I’ll ignore him, all right.”
Dana looked down at her feet so her grandparents wouldn’t catch her enjoying their craziness. She was actually on the verge of a small giggle when she noticed the epaulets on her blouse were casting shadows on the sidewalk that made her look like a linebacker. It was going to be a long night.
Lois and Johnny stood beneath the wedding chuppah in the clubhouse’s “reception” room, reciting their vows in quiet, almost shaky voices. Dana’s grandmother had wanted to sit in the front row, but her grandfather insisted on sitting on the aisle seat somewhere in the middle in case he needed to “escape.” Johnny, bald as an infant and sporting glasses the size of dessert plates, looked charming in a baggy suit that he’d obviously filled out in his younger days. Lois was attired in a modest, ankle-length, ice-blue dress with long sleeves of scalloped lace. Her dowager’s hump wasn’t as bad as Dana’s grandmother claimed. There had been no walking the bride up the aisle, no relatives holding up the chuppah poles. The only family on hand was Lois’s grandson. But the lack of relatives in no way detracted from the overwhelming sense of joy filling the room.
Watching the elderly couple recite their vows, Dana’s chest constricted. She was moved by what an act of hope it was to join your life to someone else’s at such a late stage of the game. But she was also sad, recalling every wedding she’d ever attended, every bridesmaid dress she’d ever been fitted for, every baby shower she’d ever helped plan. When would finding the right man happen for her? And what if it never did? Molly had never married and had been perfectly happy with her life. But she wasn’t Molly.
CHAPTER SIX
“Gimme a break, Aunt Molly. I’m not an idiot.”
Josh stole an affectionate glance at his aunt as the entrance gate at Huerto de Naranja lifted and he drove inside. When his phone had rung early this morning, he’d known immediately who it was. His aunt always called him early on Sunday morning, even though he had repeatedly asked her not to, because Saturday night was his one night “out on the town” and he usually got in late.
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