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After strapping herself in, she texted her grandmother. Running a bit behind.
Granny lived at a retirement home where all her meals were provided. But she still liked to keep her own favorite snacks on hand, so Brenda did a weekly shopping trip for her. Granny was still quite active, and perfectly capable of living on her own, but she’d chosen to move out of the house they used to share, insisting that Brenda needed more space.
“I’ll have a better social life with people my own age, and so will you.”
Which was the heart of the matter, Brenda knew. Granny would do anything to help Brenda find a man.
Speaking of men…Brenda smiled as she thought of the very unusual one she’d just encountered. Galen with the fish cooler. She’d noticed him before, but never spoken to him at any length. She’d never seen so much wild black hair on one human being before. He looked like a child’s drawing of a pirate, minus the eye patch.
She was glad for the lack of eye patch because he had unexpectedly lovely eyes behind those bushy brows. They were a liquid brown—like strongly brewed oolong tea—and filled with light. She loved oolong tea for its unique and intense flavor. Meeting his eyes had given her a pleasant shiver of appreciation for their beauty.
Strange to find those eyes hidden behind all that facial hair. She had nothing against beards. A lot of men around here wore some kind of beard, especially in the winter. Sometimes they shaved them off come summertime, but not Galen, apparently. She’d be surprised if a razor had come anywhere near that beard in years.
She parked in front of the Lake Bittersweet Home for Seniors and cracked the window open for Olaf. Careful not to wake him, she collected her grocery bags. If Granny was up for it, they’d take the dog for a walk on the trail that meandered alongside a creek behind the home. That walking trail was one of the things that had convinced Granny to move here, and Brenda couldn’t deny this spot had a lot to offer.
But still, losing her company at home had been…well, bittersweet. It was so lonely without Granny’s cheerful and unpredictable presence.
She hurried inside with the groceries, exchanging smiles and hellos with the staff members and residents she passed. When she found her grandmother’s room, she tapped on the door and stepped inside.
Then came to an abrupt halt.
Her grandmother had a visitor. A man. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, very close to her. After a moment of shock, she recognized him as a fellow resident of the home. Brock? Book? Block? Something like that.
“Hi,” she said as she put the grocery bag down on a chair. “I’m Brenda.”
“Bryce.”
Close enough.
“I’m here to flirt with your grandmother,” he told her.
Okay then. Nothing like being direct. Her grandmother caught her eye and winked at her. Brenda could tell she liked him, and Granny was hard to please. With her green eyes and snowy hair, trim figure and knack for fashion, she was still a striking woman.
It figured that her grandmother would find a man before she did.
“Don’t let me interrupt. I can just put these snacks away and—”
“No no. I’ll let you be. Cecilia, I’ll see you tonight for dinner.” He rose to his feet, only a bit creaky, and kissed her grandmother’s hand.
“Wow,” Brenda said as soon as he’d left. “He’s a catch. Is that his actual hair?”
“Yes, but I do believe you have that backwards,” Granny said tartly. “We all know who the catch is.”
“Right. I stand corrected.” Brenda stacked the boxes of water crackers and butterscotch pudding in her grandmother’s cabinet.
“Well, sit instead. Do you have time for a visit or do you have to rush off for…anything?”
That hopeful tone meant only one thing…optimism regarding Brenda’s nonexistent manhunt. “No, I don’t have a date,” she told her granny dryly. Then, deciding it was time she teased her back, added, “Though I did just meet a very intriguing man.”
“Oooh, I like the sound of that. Make me some tea and tell me all about him.”
Brenda suppressed a smile at the thought of bushy, bristly Galen sipping tea with her grandmother. “Well, where do I start? He’s a…” she cast about for something specific about him. “He catches fish.”
“Every man in Lake Bittersweet does that. Even Bryce throws a line in the creek out back now and then.”
Right. Sometimes she forgot she was living in the country now. Her upbringing had been suburban all the way, spacious houses and immaculate lawns and automatic sprinklers and noisy leaf blowers.
“He has a beard.”
