Chapter 19 #2
“Hey, now, don’t go jumping to conclusions.
I’m seriously giving it a lot of thought.
I’m kind of committed to help a friend get his construction business off the ground out in El Paso—at least for the summer.
” Lottie glanced over her shoulder to see Maverick and Knox both giving her a thumbs-up sign.
Bo set the last jar candles on the table and fluffed out a bit of white illusion with twinkling lights around each one.
“I’m so glad that Knox bought that land.
We looked at it, but the owner wanted to sell the whole place, not a little piece of it.
I squealed when Knox told me that he thought he had the perfect place to build our new house.
We’re coming out to the land after church tomorrow to pick out our five acres.
We have our house plans ready to go, so we get to be your first new neighbors. ”
“You mean Knox’s new neighbor, don’t you?” Lottie asked.
Bo’s green eyes flashed when she looked up at Lottie. “I said what I meant.”
“What makes you think that?” Lottie asked.
“Knox looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. Kind of reminds me of the way Tripp changed when he met Willa Rose. And you did catch the bouquet at the wedding.”
“And Knox caught the garter. That sealed it all!” Bernie pumped her fist into the air. “And I get the credit.”
“When are you going to retire from matchmaking?” Lottie steered the conversation away from herself.
“On my ninetieth birthday, I will hang up my matchmaking hat and pass the job onto whoever wants it or close down my business,” Bernie answered. “If this works between you and Knox, then I have completed my major goal.”
“Tell Lottie about your first match while I go to the supply room and get the bowls for peanuts, pretzels, and chocolate kisses,” Bo said.
“You mean between Clara and Nash? That was before I retired from the bar business and moved down here to Texas,” Bernie said.
“I’d love to hear about it,” Lottie said. “We’ve got the tables ready, so we have a few minutes to visit. Who is Clara?”
“That would be my grand-niece. She and Nash and Hershal, who was an old flame of mine, walked into my bar one night.”
“Is this a joke?” Lottie asked.
Bernie raised her right hand. “I swear to God it’s a true story, and honey, at my age, I don’t take such things lightly.
Clara was weeping. Hershal had one of them round fish bowls in one hand and a Chihuahua in the other, and Nash—well, if I’d been forty years younger, Clara wouldn’t have had a chance.
When everything was settled, I sold half my bar to Nash and gave the other half to Clara.
Evidently, the heat was pretty hot between them because the bar burned to the ground a few months later.
They’re married now and living up in the northern part of the state. ”
“I’m glad the Chicken Coop was still around when my folks were living in that area,” Lottie said.
“Y’all ain’t foolin’ me one bit.” Bernie shook a finger at her. “You are keeping me talking, but I been keepin’ an eye on those two guys. They’re not getting that garland and lights up perfectly. But the senior citizens all probably wear trifocals anyway, so they won’t notice.”
“Nothing got past you at your bar, and I can see that you haven’t lost your bluff one bit since you moved to Spanish Fort,” Lottie said.
“Don’t you ever forget it,” Bernie said with a wide grin that deepened the wrinkles around her mouth. “Let’s go help Bo put out the snacks. It’s only ten minutes until we open the doors. I’ll tell all my matchmaking stories with the family another time.”
Lottie stood up and followed Bernie to the bar. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Thank you for getting her out of that mood,” Bo whispered and handed Lottie a bag of Hershey’s Kisses. “These go in the red bowls. Pretzels in the pink ones, and peanuts in the white.”
“I didn’t do a good job. She figured out what I was doing and will probably blame Knox and Maverick for not doing a perfect job since we distracted her,” Lottie said out of the corner of her mouth.
“You are probably right,” Bo said, “but for the record, whether she really was the matchmaker that got you and Knox together or not, I’m glad that it is happening.”
“Thank you,” Lottie murmured and sent up a silent prayer that the relationship didn’t die in its sleep while she was in El Paso.
Lottie had never seen so many elderly folks come through the door and hit the floor to two-step to “Livin’ on Love” by Alan Jackson.
They looked like they had just stepped out of a western wear store in their fancy boots, jeans, and hats.
And for the next hour, they didn’t slow down, not even a little bit.
She even wondered if they had a secret pill in their medicine cabinet that gave them more energy than that little pink bunny had on television commercials, because they were still crowding the dance floor six songs later.
“If that’s the case, I wonder where they compound the little buggers and if they’ll sell me a few,” she muttered as she carried another tray with half a dozen red plastic cups filled with beer across the room.
“What was that?” Knox asked when he passed her.
She told him her idea about the pills, and he chuckled. “Darlin’, at their age, they save up all their energy for good times like this. We have to use ours to frame out cabins.”
“And other more important things,” she said and wondered where the awkward Lottie went, but not for long. She liked this new person in her body a lot better than the old model.
Knox leaned in and whispered for her ears only. “Hang on to that thought for when this gig is over, and we can go back to our castle in the woods.”
“I don’t feel much like a queen right now,” she told him.
“And I feel more like a stable boy than a king, but when we get home this evening, all that can and will change.” He held up a roll of quarters. “My new orders are to put more money in the jukebox. Got any requests?”
“Play more oldies. They seem to like them best,” she suggested.
“Will do.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you later.”
“The Gambler,” by Kenny Rogers, brought several more senior citizens to the dance floor for two-stepping. The lyrics seemed to be speaking right to Lottie when the words said that the secret to survival was knowing what to keep and what to throw away.
Lottie wondered if she was playing with fire. Could this really be the new her, or was she just playacting at being what Knox wanted her to be? She really needed a sign to tell her if this was real or if it was time to walk away.
She set a cup of beer around to each of six older ladies sitting at a table. “Why aren’t y’all out there on the dance floor?”
“We’re sittin’ this one out and givin’ the other ladies a chance,” the one with Emma on her name tag answered. “And we got a little winded on that last line dance. I remember when I carried an extra pair of shoes in case I wore the leather down to nothing in the ones I had on.”
“I’m Beverly,” another one pointed a bony finger with a bright red nail to her name tag.
“And honey, we’ve done a head count. There are only half as many men here as there are women.
We are the best dancers in the whole place, but we aren’t greedy.
So, we sit one out every so often and give the other gals a little boost to their egos when they are asked. ”
“But, darlin’ girl, if I was thirty years younger…” Emma fanned her face with her hand, “I would give you a run for your money with that hunky chunk of sex that keeps his eyes on you.”
“Thirty, my saggy ass,” a third one with Myra on her tag snorted. “You’d need to be fifty years younger, and you’d probably need a how-to book to drag something that sexy into the bedroom.”
“Sex is like riding a bicycle. It all comes back to a person when it’s time,” Emma argued.
Beverly laughed so hard that she spewed beer all over her fancy western shirt.
“Good Lord, Beverly,” Myra fussed. “We can’t take you anywhere.”
“You ain’t sittin’ where you can see them two bartenders.
” She wiped the beer away with a napkin and looked up at Lottie.
“You might as well draw up six more. Most of the women are starin’ at the sex on a stick at the jukebox and the other one behind the bar.
We’ll all be worked up enough that we’ll fight over who gets Henry for the night when we get back to the assisted care center. ”
“Oh, no!” Emma declared. “I’ve already told him that I would meet him in his room and tell him all about tonight.”
Lottie picked up the tray. “Why didn’t he come with you?”
Emma rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “He won’t miss his Sunday football, not even if he’s seen the game before—not even for dancin’—but it will be over when we get back. And he’s got a whole bottle of them little blue pills.”
Lottie blushed. “You ladies have a good time, and I’ll be back with another round in a few minutes. It appears that Miz Emma does not need a how-to book at all. And bless your hearts. I hope they don’t quit making those pills when I’m”—she looked at Emma and winked—“fifty years old.”
“God love your precious soul,” Emma said. “Now go flirt with that feller that you are sleeping with.”
“What?” Lottie gasped.
“You heard me. A woman has a different look about her when love is brand new and the sex is hot,” Emma said. “I’m not so old that I don’t remember how I felt when Warren and I were sneaking off to the barn before we tied the knot.”
“I didn’t know it showed,” Lottie said.
“Maybe not to everyone, but us old birds see everything, say what we damn well please, and live the way we want. We’re the generation that burned our bras, honey, and we don’t give a flip what anyone says,” Beverly said.
“Enjoy your youth. Make good memories and then be happy and content if you get to live as long as we have.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lottie said with a nod and headed across the floor.
Bernie stopped her after she’d taken a few steps and handed her a second empty tray. “Would you take this back for me?”