Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,71

and scanned the list of sweets. “Sounds like you almost offered Milo to Beth on a silver platter.”

“Almost?”

“Of course. But since you first uttered those foolish words you’ve had the good fortune of speaking with me. Which means you now realize the error of your ways and you will be waiting on his couch when he arrives home. Preferably in something that will make him forget all about that little hussy.” Leona waved their waitress over to the table. Pointing from the menu to Tori, she lowered her voice to a near whisper. “She’ll take the Triple Chocolate Overload.”

“Leona! I thought you said—”

“Hush, dear. Cellulite worries must, occasionally, take a backseat to jump-starting the libido.”

Chapter 26

She was almost done with the tomato when the first reinforcement shuffled up the sidewalk.

“Good morning, Rose.”

“It may be morning to you, Victoria, but to an old fart like myself it seems like late afternoon.”

Her hand stilled above the red felt. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been up since the crack of dawn. Been that way since I hit seventy.” Rose grabbed hold of the railing and hoisted herself up the three stairs to Tori’s front porch. “Just goes to show you how delusional I was in my youth when I used to dream of retirement.”

“I don’t get it.” She pulled the felt to her chest and stood. “Here, why don’t you take the rocking chair and I’ll move over to the swing.”

“Thank you, Victoria.” Rose patted her hand then lowered herself to the slatted wooden rocker. “That last year before I quit teaching? I used to imagine being able to wake to the sound of birds instead of an alarm clock buzzing in my ear.”

“That’s one of my favorite parts of having a day off.” Tori sat down on the porch swing and repositioned her latest sewing project in her lap, her hand resuming its blanket stitch without so much as a passing thought. “It’s almost magical.”

“Enjoy it now while you can. Because in about forty years you’ll be woken up by something much more persistent than a chirping bird.”

She pulled the strand of red thread through the underside of the tomato then looped it around the outside once again. “And what’s that?”

“Your bladder.”

“Ahhh.” She looked up from the nearly complete condiment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Rose tugged her tote bag onto her lap and reached inside, her pale white hand returning with a piece of purple. Holding it up, she cocked her head toward the nondescript rectangle. “I figured a peanut butter sandwich should have an option of jelly, don’t you think?”

She smiled. “Absolutely.”

“And I brought a pale yellow color to make a few pats of butter for Dixie’s pancakes.” Rose reached into her bag once again, this time pulling out a bundle of deep purple embroidery floss. “Now, Victoria, the bladder isn’t the only thing you need to look out for when you get old.”

“Oh no?

“There’s the forgetfulness, the aches and pains in your joints, and the desire to talk about food all the time.”

She dropped the tomato onto the table beside the swing and began working on the slice of cheese that was next on her list. “I remember that about my great-grandmother. Whenever she and my great-grandfather used to go somewhere, the food was always the part she talked about. Not the people they saw, not the things they did. Just vivid details about every single food item they saw—whether they actually ate it or not.”

“I know. And I swore I wouldn’t do it, but I do. It’s part of the reason our sewing circle has so much food. Gives Dixie and me something to talk about for the next week.”

Tori guided the scissors through the fabric then looked up. “I notice you didn’t include Leona in that statement.”

Rose waved her hands above the jelly taking shape on her lap. “Leona’s not old yet. She’s still got a good ten years to go before she’s trembling and coughing and shuffling around like me. But don’t you tell her I said that, you hear? Half the fun of sewing circle is watching little Miss Perfectly Poised get a little red in the face.”

“Little Miss Perfectly Poised?”

“That’s one of my nicer names for Leona.” Rose set her jelly off to the side before reaching inside her bag for the piece of pale yellow felt and its coordinating embroidery floss. With deft fingers she separated the floss into three strands. “Good heavens, I couldn’t believe the way she went at you about Milo and that woman