Page 23 of Never Too Late

“Yes!” I took my coat off and walked into the living room. Sure enough, there was almost an empty bottle of gin on the table along with an empty plate that had Christmas cookies before I left.

“Where were you?”

“Here and there,” I said vaguely.

“Ohhh… that means you were with someone you don’t want us to know about.” Mrs. McConnell perked up, took my wrist in her hand, and pulled me down on the couch next to her. “Spill,” she said gleefully, patting my thigh.

“There’s nothing to spill,” I said, my eyes going to my grandmother who sat in the armchair and back to the woman next to me.

“Who were you with?” The question came from the armchair and it was almost as she sing-song it. I have never seen my grandmother acting like this. She always had this dose of seriousness that surrounded her. Even when she was having fun, there was something about it that let you know she didn’t fully give in. Like she was on alert, waiting for something to happen.

“Are you drunk?” I asked incredulously. I’ve also never seen either of them drunk.

“Stop changing the subject and tell!” Mrs. McConnell demanded. “Who were you with?”

“And just a little, to answer your question,” my grandmother added in.

“Fine,” I sighed. I pretend like I didn’t want to tell them when in reality, I was dying to. As cheesy as it sounded, those two were my best friends and I wanted to tell everything about tonight.

“I was with Dylan.”

“I knew it!” Mrs. McConnell explained and pointed to my grandmother. Then she turned her palm up and wiggled her fingers, saying, “Pay up.”

“Humpf,” she harrumphed but still reached into her pocket, took the folded bill out and gave it to the woman. “Did he kiss you?”

I smiled a little and whispered, “No, but I didn’t expect him to, we weren’t alone. I wished for him to, though. Maybe on Tuesday when we go out on a date.” I shrugged. I knew most would find it odd the way I told everything to two drunk, old ladies. But as I said, they were my best friends, and I had no secrets with them. I told them everything.

“Oh, a date!” Mrs. McConnell was obviously excited for me. But when I looked to my grandmother, I noticed she was kind of pale and had a horrified expression on her face.

“Grandma, are you okay?”

“You wished for it?” she whispered instead of answering me.

“Yes, you know I always liked him, but he never gave me a second glance.”

“Where were you when you wished for it?”

“At the square,” I said slowly, now looking more carefully at her.

“Where at the square, Sophie?” Lost was the carefree grandmother that sat in the armchair just moments ago.

“I don’t know, at the square.” I shrugged. “Why?”

“Think, girl, think,” she all but barked at me. Then she looked at Mrs. McConnell. “Which moon is it?”

That was a bizarre thing to ask.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re still in strawberry.” Mrs. McConnell waved her hand dismissively.

“What’s going on?” I asked again. When no one said anything, I looked at Mrs. McConnell’s profile, but she didn’t look back. Instead, she took a big gulp of her drink and looked anywhere but at me.

“So,” my grandmother barked, getting my attention back. “Where at the square, Sophie?”

“I…”

“Were you near the well?”