Starting Over on Blackberry Lane--A Romance Novel

by Sheila Roberts

  And maybe she’d fly up to the shower, change clothes, put on some perfume. Silly. He’d already seen her looking like Miss Frump of Icicle Falls. Still, she hated this current mess to be the last thing he saw.

  And that matters because?

  Because Dan had snagged his cookie and gone back to work but Grant had lingered. That had to be a sign of something.

  Yeah. Politeness.

  She needed a shower, anyway. So there.

  And she felt much better after she’d gotten cleaned up. She dragged out a white blouse she’d had hanging in the closet since forever and pulled on a pair of stretchy jeans. They were supposed to be skinny jeans, but with thirty extra pounds, they were more like I-wish-I-was-skinny jeans. She blow-dried her hair and put on foundation, blush, eyeliner and mascara. Then she regarded herself in the mirror.

  Wow. What a transformation. From pudgy, middle-aged, grubby woman to pudgy, middle-aged woman in clean clothes. She frowned. The woman in the mirror frowned back as if to say, “Don’t blame me for your carb addiction.”

  “I’m not middle-aged,” she told her reflection. “That doesn’t come until fifty.” Which meant old didn’t come until about eighty. She could go with that.

  Her new housemate sat on the bed, watching the transformation. “What do you think, Lady Gray? Add some jewelry?”

  The cat blinked, hopped down and rubbed against her legs.

  “So, you think I look good? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. Which I’m not, really. I just needed to get cleaned up.” And she needed perfume.

  Lady Gray kept twining around her legs and she picked the cat up. “I seriously doubt all this affection is without a hidden agenda. Want some food?”

  The cat purred.

  “Yeah, I don’t blame you. I like to eat, too. But I’m not going to give you too much. Trust me, once you put it on, it’s really hard to peel off.”

  She set the cat down and Lady Gray darted across the room in front of her, then led the way downstairs to the kitchen. Cass spooned some canned cat food into her dish, then took a couple of chicken breasts out of the freezer to thaw. That way she’d have something for tomorrow. Or maybe Grant would like a home-cooked meal. The least she could do was offer to feed him.

  Except once he and Dan came down from the roof, she didn’t. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” Grant promised, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what he was doing for dinner.

  But what was the point? He’d almost certainly be seeing Muriel Sterling.

  * * *

  “Come on, Dad. Admit you’re interested,” Dan had teased once they were back on the roof.

  “No, I’m not,” Grant had insisted. “Anyway, she’s too young for me.” Guys his age who took up with younger women were pathetic. What were they doing, trying to recapture their youth, prove their virility? He didn’t have to prove anything.

  “Nobody cares about that stuff these days,” Dan had said.

  “Well, they should,” Grant had informed him, closing the subject.

  That didn’t keep thoughts of Cass Wilkes out of his mind, though.

  She’d looked pretty cute in that stupid T-shirt. She’d looked even cuter once she’d cleaned up, and she’d smelled like a garden after a summer rain, all ripe and luscious and...

  Okay, it had obviously been way too long since he’d been with a woman. He returned to his room at Gerhardt’s, pulled out his laptop and went to the Mature Mates (ugh) site. There on the home page was a collage of faces, both male and female. All mature, yes, but all nice-looking, too. What the heck. It was worth a try.

  The happy matchmakers of Mature Mates had made it easy for him. Right there on the home page was a box with a dropdown where he could state his sexual orientation and what he was looking for. He chose man seeking a woman, then entered the Icicle Falls zip code.

  But he wasn’t done. The site wanted his email address so the mature matchmakers could contact him if necessary. He hated getting spam.

  No spam, the page assured him, and his email wouldn’t be shared with anyone. That was good to know, since he already got more than enough emails offering him Viagra at a bargain price.

  Anyway, the stupid site wasn’t going to allow him in any further unless he gave it what it wanted. He entered his Hotmail account and the gate opened, letting him into the wonderful world of online dating. Well, almost. First he had to buy a Lover’s Leap package. An investment in your future.

  Okay, he could go month by month. That seemed like a fairly small investment to make.

  Welcome to Mature Mates, the site told him. We take your love life seriously.

  This was followed by a list of warnings and suggestions for how to proceed. First contact would be done through the site, and no one would see his email address. He was to share it only when he felt comfortable. Once things progressed he was cautioned to meet a potential mature mate in a safe, public place. In addition, he was cautioned not to give money to anyone who asked and to report such behavior immediately. Times had sure changed since the days when he was dating.

  His internet matchmaker wanted to know what age range he was interested in.

  Old enough to have listened to the Beatles’ White Album. Young enough to want to take a mountain hike on a Sunday afternoon. He typed in 55–60. No, make that sixty-two.

  What was he looking for in a woman? He thought of Lou. Someone who was kind. And who liked to laugh. Wasn’t that one of the most important things in life? Okay, and someone who enjoyed the outdoors. Maybe someone who’d like to keep him company at the river while he fished. Yeah, that would be good. Religious preferences? Well, he didn’t want a druid. Someone who believed in God, yeah, but not someone who’d whack him over the head with her Bible if he got mad and swore. Church okay, he typed, but not every Sunday. That probably made him sound like a druid.

  Now he had to put up his profile—his age, interests, general area where he lived. That was easy, except he sounded boring. Semiretired, like to fish. Was that all he could think to say about himself? He added that he liked Mexican food and sixties rock—and then gave up.

  Next he needed to post a picture of himself. He didn’t have a lot of pictures that weren’t of him with Lou or the kids. He found one Dan had snapped of him in Mexico when the kids visited him last winter. He was seated in a restaurant, holding a beer. That would do.

  He posted it, then hit Save.

  Now what? Wait for someone to contact him? Go looking?

  What the hell. He went looking. One woman seemed like a good candidate. Blond hair—going by the wrinkles, he could guess what color the roots were, and they weren’t blond. But she had a nice smile, was slender and well dressed. She’d obviously been at some kind of party and was raising a wineglass in salute. Here’s looking at you, kid.

  He did the necessary follow-through and within a few minutes actually had a notification. Someone wants to talk with you!

  The message was from the slender faux blonde. Hey, this was kind of fun. He opened it and read.

  Someone wanted to talk, all right. You’ve got a lot of nerve putting up a fake picture!

  What? “Fake picture, my ass,” he growled and responded, That’s really me.

  A reply came back pronto. Nice try, creep. George Clooney doesn’t have a brother.

  George Clooney again! Why couldn’t the guy have done something else for a living? Accountant, teacher, gigolo. Why did he have to pick actor and make that face so famous?

  Grant typed back. Trust me, that’s really what I look like.

  No reply.

  Now he had another notification. Someone new was interested. She’d sent an icon with a waving hand and had attached a message, as well. He stared at the profile picture. This woman had to be pushing eighty. He’d asked to get matched with women in their
fifties and early sixties.

  Mr. Clooney, I didn’t know you were in the market. When did you get divorced? I’d love to help you heal your broken heart.

  Oh, boy. He told the poor disillusioned woman that he’d made a mistake and was getting back together with his wife. Was this what online dating was going to be like?

  Apparently, since he heard from women either promising not to reveal his true identity or threatening to report him for impersonating a celebrity. And a married one at that, scolded one woman. You should be ashamed!

  Next thing he knew, his profile was taken down. The reason listed was fraud. Applicants may not post fake pictures.

  He could almost hear Lou laughing as he slammed his laptop shut.

  “Go ahead, laugh,” he grumbled. “You’re not stuck down here by yourself.”

  Maybe he needed to try a more personal approach. One of Lou’s horseback-riding buddies came to mind. Last he’d heard, Kathy was divorced. She’d always been a lot of fun and she’d been extremely sympathetic at the celebration-of-life ceremony.

  He searched out her number and gave her a call.

  “Grant, it’s good to hear from you. How are you doing?”

  “Okay.” He was still here, still functioning.

  “I heard you went to Mexico.”

  “I did, but now I’m back.”

  “In Wenatchee?”

  “Nearby. I’m in Icicle Falls.”

  “Practically in my backyard,” she said cheerfully.

  That sounded encouraging, so he plunged on. “I was wondering if you’d like to meet for a drink, talk about old times. If you’re not busy.” If you’re not remarried.

  “Sure. I just got in from a ride, though, and I need to clean up. How about meeting around seven?”

  “Seven’s good,” he said, and they picked a restaurant. It had been one of Lou’s favorites. “Hope you don’t mind, babe,” he said after he’d ended the call.

  Mom would want you to be happy.

  He hadn’t been really happy since Lou died. He’d been okay. When he was with the boys, he was almost happy. But true happiness? He wasn’t convinced he’d ever find that again. Still, he’d like to try. This hanging around at the edge of life was not very satisfying.

  He showered and changed, then got in his truck and made the twenty-mile drive from Icicle Falls to Wenatchee. The place they were meeting was an alehouse with a relaxing atmosphere and great barbecue. He grabbed a table on the patio. If drinks went well, they could move on to dinner.

  He’d already settled at the table with his beer when Kathy made her appearance. She looked as good as she always had—light brown hair about the color of Cass Wilkes’s, stylish clothes showing off a trim figure. Muscular thighs, shaped by hours of gripping a saddle... “Grant, wonderful to see you!” She came up to him in a delicate cloud of perfume, arms outstretched, gave him a big hug. Not one of those modest hugs people used when they wanted to avoid full-body contact. Oh, now this was up close and personal, and it felt good.

  “You look great,” she told him.

  “So do you. You haven’t aged a day.” He’d aged ten years the night Lou died.

  She shook her head. “It gets harder and more expensive the older I get, let me tell you.”

  She slid into her seat and the waiter appeared instantly. “Dirty martini,” she told him. “Extra olives.” She pointed to Grant’s glass. “Still only drinking beer. Boring,” she teased.

  “What can I say?”

  “That’s all right. We love you anyway.”

  Yes, and a couple of women in their circle of friends had flirted pretty heavily with him in an effort to prove it. Kathy had been another story. “Everyone wants you,” she’d told him once at a party. “They can’t help it, Grant. Women love gorgeous men. But we also love Lou and nobody would do anything to hurt her.”

  Yes, she’d been a good friend to both of them. Loyal and kind. She’d helped Grant plan the memorial and had hosted everyone at her house afterward.

  “Tell me. What are you doing in Icicle Falls? Are you back to stay?”

  “Yeah. Mexico was nice but it’s not home.”

  “There’s no place like home,” she agreed. “Now, what are you up to?”

  He told her about his new business and she listened as raptly as if he was imparting insider trading information.

  “Sounds like a great idea,” she said. “God knows there’ve been enough times after Hank and I split that I wished I had a handyman. There still are, as a matter of fact.”

  “So, there’s nobody in your life?”

  She shrugged. The waiter returned with her drink and she took a sip and sighed. “A great martini, best thing after a long ride.”

  Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

  Grant told himself to cool it and drank some of his beer.

  “The kids, of course,” she said, getting back to the conversation. “Naturally they’re busy with their own lives. Julie had a baby, so I’m a grandma now and I watch the baby a couple of times a week. And, to tell you the truth, that’s about as exciting as my life gets these days. I miss Lou.”

  His throat suddenly felt tight. He nodded and took another pull from his beer.

  The waiter was back now. “Would you folks like to order?”

  Grant turned to Kathy. “How about it? Want some dinner?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Dinner was enjoyable. Kathy had another martini, Grant had another beer. They split a piece of carrot cake for dessert, and he remembered doing the same thing with Lou when she was alive. “All I want is a bite,” Kathy said, and then, just like Lou always did, she ate half the cake.

  “Look at me. What a pig. You should’ve taken the plate away,” she scolded when they were done.

  “I wouldn’t dream of separating a woman from her cake.”

  She shook her head at him and smiled. “Anyway, I’m absolutely stuffed now. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He paid the bill and they left the restaurant. Then they were in the parking lot next to her car, and all of a sudden, he was unsure what to do.

  “I’m glad we did this, Grant,” she said.

  “Me, too.” Now what? Should he hug her again? Kiss her? Ask her if she wanted to go out with him next week?

  A kiss, he decided. A friendly let’s-see-where-this-goes kind of kiss. He caught her hand, drew her a little closer—hmm, was she balking or was it his imagination?—and kissed her on the cheek.

  She pulled back. He wasn’t imagining that frown. “Grant, what was this about?”

  I’m lonely? Horny? Pathetic? “Um.”

  “You’re not thinking of dating, are you?”

  “Well, the thought did cross my mind.”

  The frown turned to a full-fledged scowl. “Grant. Your wife is barely cold in her grave.”

  It had been three years. How cold did she have to get?

  “You need to go back to Icicle Falls and think about what you’re doing,” she said sternly. Then she got in her SUV and gunned the engine.

  Grant jumped back as she roared out of the parking slot, fearing for the safety of his feet. Then he stood there and watched her drive off, feeling both rejected and guilty.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing, Lou. Maybe it is too soon. Or maybe it’s too late. I miss you. I miss our old life.”

  A couple of guys walked by and looked at him as if he was crazy.

  Well, he was standing alone in a parking lot, talking to himself.

  He got in his truck and drove back to Icicle Falls.

  Chapter Twelve

  Matt called on Sunday morning, saving Grant from a horrible dream. He’d been out for dinner with a beautiful woman he’d met on Mature Mates, and all had
been going well until he took her home.

  Home was a white stucco mini-palace by a river with peacocks strutting on the vast lawn. There was a limo parked in the circular driveway and Tom Cruise, wearing a chauffeur’s uniform, was waxing it.

  “Want to come in for a nightcap?” asked Grant’s date.

  “Sure,” he said and followed her down a long hallway to a huge room dominated by a rustic stone fireplace exactly the kind Grant wanted to have when he got around to buying a new place. Oil paintings hanging on the wall, a champagne bottle in an ice bucket by the couch. A silver tray on the coffee table with silver goblets. Of course, there was a fire crackling in that fireplace. It was the perfect setting for a man about to get lucky. And he was all primed to do just that.

  Until the woman turned around and pulled off a rubber mask like the ones they always wore in those Mission: Impossible movies. Suddenly there stood someone else who looked even more like George Clooney than Grant, determined to pull off Grant’s mask. The next thing Grant knew, he was fighting to keep his face attached to his skull.

  “Aaah!”

  Thank God the phone woke him before the woman could lop off his head. He grabbed it like a lifeline, pushed the receive button and croaked, “Hello.”

  “Hey, Dad. Did I wake you?”

  “That’s okay.” It was more than okay.

  “Just wanted to let you know I’m coming up to help you.”

  “Great.”

  “Dan and Charley and me are doing a house swap. They’re gonna stay in my place for a couple of days and I’ll stay in theirs and eat all their food. I should be up there around noon.”

  “Okay. I’ve got plenty for you to do.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  Grant gave his son Cass’s address to put in his GPS, then said goodbye and got up. No way was he going back to sleep and giving his attacker another shot at him. It was time to get moving anyway.

  An hour later, he was at her place, hoping to get a lot done before it was too hot.

  It got hot pretty quickly when she came outside to weed, wearing shorts and a top that showed off cleavage whenever she bent over. An excellent view from the roof.