“We need the holiday break, Agnes. People are busy shopping and visiting relatives,” Gerald explained for the umpteenth time. Suzanne helped to deliver new balls of clay to students, taking in the class.
“Tell that to my kids. Ungrateful little worms. I split myself open how many times, only to have them all move across the country. They don’t call.” As she watched, Suzanne marveled at the depths of the old lady’s cantankerous personality. When she was ninety-something, she wanted to be just like Agnes.
“You Facetime every day with your grandkids in Kentucky, Agnes,” her friend, Corrine, corrected. “And your grandson is in college in Boston. He’s at your house every weekend.” Corrine looked like one of those young women who guest-starred on that old ‘70s show, The Love Boat. A blonde model/actress known only for a few years back then. Suzanne had watched the show with her grandparents on cable, and she struggled to remember the name.
“That’s only because I bake cookies for him,” Agnes complained.
“I’m sure he visits to enjoy your sunny disposition,” Gerald said with a smile, giving Suzanne a wink. “And for your oregano.”
Agnes stuck her tongue out at him.
“That’s a wrap!” Gerald announced as Declan slipped into his robe, the class standing and applauding.
Declan took a bow, a sweeping gesture of unbridled arrogance that made Gerald burst into hearty laughter.
If you’ve got it, flaunt it.
“Encore, encore!” Lindi shouted, her dutiful menopause fan whirring away.
Declan whipped off the bathrobe.
Women swooned.
Including Suzanne.
Gerald walked across the room and placed his hand over her eyes.
“Hey!”
“You don’t need to look at that.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve got a better view for you at home tonight.”
“Better than that?” The room had turned into whistles and sighs.
“Absolutely.”
“You’ll need to have something mighty special up your sleeve to top that.”
“I can top you.”
“That just sounded wrong, Gerald.”
He shrugged. “Blame Andrew McCormick. The guy has some of the worst pick-up lines you could ever imagine.”
She shuddered. “Oh, I can imagine.”
“He tried to date you, didn’t he?”
“How did you know? I mean, he’s a nice guy, but totally not my type.”
Wincing, Gerald gave her a look. “Of course he isn’t. And Declan told me.”
“WHAT? When?”
“When we were playing pool that first night you crashed my class.”
“Was that really just eight weeks ago?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “It was.”
“Did he bring it up on your shot?”
“As a matter of fact, he did.”
“Who’s the real pool shark?”
A string of students slowly made their way out of class, stopping to give him a hug or shake his hand. Stacy helped the women with their projects, many of which were perfectly reasonable for brand-new sculpting students. A few stood out.
“Does Declan go by the nickname ‘tripod’?” Agnes asked as she eyed Lindi’s sculpture.
“AGNES!” Gerald scolded.
She smirked. “See you in three weeks, Mr. Clean!”
Suzanne rubbed his head.
“You know I hate that.”
“Then grow it out.”
“I hate having hair. Lifting is so much harder.”
“Please? For me?”
“Really? Why?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“No need. I’ll do it. But I have to warn you—there’s got to be a ton of grey in there.”
“Grey? You’re not old enough for grey!”
“Did you get your first grey pube yet?” Corrine asked with that cheerful tone that belied her inappropriateness. “Because once you find one, they’re like termites. The colony is already there, just buried where you can’t see it.”
“BALLS!” Declan declared, coming out of the dressing room and clapping his hands once for emphasis. “Time to play.”
Three eager women turned around, offering themselves silently for whatever he was talking about.
“Pool, ladies,” Gerald said, motioning for them to leave. “We’re playing pool.”
“And not pocket pool!” Agnes croaked out from the hall.
“Marie invited you to her yoga class, didn’t she? Offered you all the free classes you want?” he asked Gerald, eyeing Corrine’s back as she left as if he were tracking her as a dangerous subject.
“Yes.” Gerald and Suzanne shared a confused look.
“Don’t do it. It’s a trap.”
“How bad could it be?”
“We can talk about your mother-in-law’s yoga class or we can get down to playing with balls,” Suzanne declared. “Which is it?”
“Can you lock up, Stacy?” Gerald asked, tossing her the keys to the building. Suzanne knew there were other volunteers in the building who would help.
The teen was ecstatic to be given such a heavy responsibility. “Sure, Gerald! Thanks!”
Five minutes later, at the bar, Suzanne brought back drinks while Gerald glared at Declan.
“Ready?” Declan asked.
Gerald’s eyes narrowed as he watched Declan rack the balls. Suzanne held back a snicker, knowing what was coming.
“Yeah. Double or nothing, Mr. Matchmaker.”
Laughter poured out of Declan. “You figured it out?”