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“I knew there was a reason we were besties.”
She holds my arm as we return to the tree, and we spend the morning wrapping lights, tossing tinsel and hanging braille ornaments.
“This one saysPeace on Earth.” Miss Gina glides her fingers over the colorful, plastic jewels on the front of the snowflake. “Isn’t that thoughtful?”
“People have been saying that for years, Gigi.” Claudette carries a tray holding a pot of coffee and cups into the room.
“I was talking about the braille on the Christmas ornaments,” Miss Gina breaks into a laugh. “You thought I meantPeace on Earthwas thoughtful? I hope I’d be able to come up with a better adjective for such a profound sentiment.”
I nibble on a ginger snap as my eyes drift from one lady to the other trying to picture them at my age fussing and bickering. They seem to be friends. Or friendly. I’m still not sure what to make of Claudette.
“Now I need to buy Christmas gifts. Will you help me, Rachel?”
“Of course.” I go with her to the computer, and she produces a list.
“Go do something else, Claude. You know you can’t keep a secret.”
“Well, I’ve never heard such a lie. I am excellent at keeping secrets.”
“Like the time I bought Jameson a cloisonné pen, and you told him?”
“I thought that was for your mother. It was a very ornate pen for a man.”
“The store clerk said it was unique.”
“And he got a big fat commission on that sale. It was Mont Blanc.”
“All the same.” Miss Gina flicks her fingers. “Out!”
I cover my mouth with my hand, ducking as Claudette pulls her blazer closed in a huff and strides from the room.
“I’m sure she hated that.” Miss Gina ducks, and I lean forward.
“She did.”
We spend the rest of the day ordering and organizing and eating cookies and really getting into the holiday spirit. It’s hard to believe Thanksgiving is a week away.
When it’s time to go, Miss Gina decides Claudette should see Cooters & Shooters on a Thursday night, and that’s how we ended up here.
Of course, I stopped by the house to change out of my workout clothes and into a pretty dress before returning.
Now I’m straining my eyes for him.
“What’s that over there?” Claudette sounds like she’s seen a snake. “Are those pool tables?”
“That’s the shooters part,” I explain.
“Turtles and pool. How very redneck.”
Just then Allie gets on the mic to introduce the Dare dish. “Okay, Daredevils, can I have your attention, please? Tonight we have a delicious Fatalii-pepper and mango chutney that should complement the grilled protein selections you have, and by Fatalii, we meanfatal, folks. Approach this one with caution…”
She continues explaining the Scoville rating and what to do if you get too hot and start to panic. I know this part by heart—no water, no beer, milk, ice cream, and juice are at the front.
“I will say it’s unique.” Claudette studies the menu. “How is the quality of the food?”
“Dylan is an excellent cook!” Miss Gina replies before I can, and when the music starts, I step out of the booth to dance.
I’m really standing so I can have a better view. He knows we’re here, and after last night, I’d like to think that means he’ll be here as well. My stomach twists, and I’m a little sick at the thought he might not.
