eat and visit all afternoon. We usually gather up our dirty plates and start home around four,” Tootsie answered between sips of coffee.
The front door opened, and the sound of Luke’s whistling preceded him into the kitchen. “What is that delicious-looking thing on the top of the stove?”
“That would be one of Diana’s oven omelets.” Tootsie could actually feel the vibes bouncing off the two of them. Why, oh why, hadn’t she thought to introduce them a year or even two years ago?
Because Luke always visited us here in Scrap, not in Sugar Run, Smokey reminded her.
He was at your funeral. I could have made them acquainted then, she argued.
Too many people were there, and you weren’t really thinking about playing matchmaker. She could imagine Smokey’s deep chuckle, and it warmed her heart.
She opened her mouth to fuss at him but then snapped it shut. The kids would think she’d done lost her marbles if they knew how often she talked out loud to Smokey.
“Good mornin’, all y’all.” Joanie waved as she headed to the coffeepot.
Carmen arrived right behind her. “You take forever to get your coffee dosed up just right. Let me go before you—I drink it black.”
“Get up earlier than me if you want to be first in line,” Joanie said.
“No bickering on reunion day. Today you’ll be good.” Tootsie waggled a finger at all of them and giggled. “I always wanted kids so I could say that kind of thing to them.”
“Why didn’t you have a houseful?” Carmen asked. “You are such a good mama to all of us and a grandmother to our girls.”
“God didn’t see fit to give us our own children. Smokey and I both had problems, but He did give us y’all in our old age, so we felt blessed,” Tootsie said.
“That is so sweet.” Diana bent to hug her. “We feel that God blessed us by letting us all move in on your block so you and Smokey could be part of our lives.”
Joanie finally finished adding sugar and hazelnut-flavored creamer to her coffee and carried it to the dining room. “Well, somebody got up early. The table is already set and ready.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Diana admitted.
“Me, either.” Luke covered a yawn with his free hand.
What’s happened between them that’s kept them both awake? Tootsie stole sideways glances at each of them. Something sure has, because they’re fidgety this morning.
“So you haven’t backed out, have you?” Luke nudged Diana.
“Nope, I’m your date from right before noon until four o’clock.” The blush that turned her cheeks a faint shade of pink didn’t escape Tootsie’s all-seeing eyes.
“Why those hours?” Joanie called out from the dining room.
“That’s when we get there and when we leave.” Diana took the biscuits from the oven and carried them straight to the table.
“Does it involve a good-afternoon kiss?” Carmen teased.
“It does not,” Diana declared.
“How about some hand holding or long gazing looks into each other’s eyes?” Joanie asked.
“Maybe, since we’ve got to sell it to Aunt Mary Lou.” Luke followed her to the table with the casserole pan in his hands.
Now Tootsie couldn’t wait to get to the reunion. Watching Mary Lou’s expression when she saw that Luke had brought a tall red-haired beauty to introduce to the family would be a hoot.
Diana could put on a fantastic front, but down deep she had a case of nerves going on that morning as they drove the motor home from Scrap to Paris. Acting had never been something she was good at, and now she had to be a pretend girlfriend. She wanted to sell it, as Luke had said. When Luke parked the motor home out on the edge of the church parking lot, she shut her eyes and sent up a silent prayer that she wouldn’t blow the whole thing and make a laughingstock out of Luke.
Don’t pretend. Just go with your heart, and make it real, the pesky voice in her head said. You like him. He likes you. For one afternoon, don’t fight it.
She looked up at the ceiling and mouthed, “Thank you.”
All five of them carried a dish of some kind through the side door of the kitchen. Once they were inside, several people rushed to give Tootsie hugs and ask how she was holding up. It wasn’t Carmen’s, Diana’s, or Joanie’s first rodeo when it came to potluck dinners, and the tables weren’t set up any different from when they’d had dinners for army wives who’d lost their husbands on the battlefields. Meat dishes first,