Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Oh! So that’s where it was.”
“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on tight,” Nora adds.
“Probably, but it would turn up soon enough. Don’t leave these too long,” she adds, brandishing the envelopes. “You might have a long-lost relative that’s kicked the bucket and left you millions.”
“Doubt it,” the old woman grumbles. Her eyes then narrow, as though just remembering something. “Although we did have a windfall late last month.”
“Oh?” Eve’s surprise isn’t feigned.
“Some company in the city paid off the outstanding vet bills.” She sniffs. “Apparently, we get a year’s free meds and stuff on top of that.”
“Well, that’s great!” Eve is the picture of enthusiasm, her expression one of puzzlement as she turns to me. I paint on an air of boredom. It was just a partial payment. Nothing to lose her mind over.
“I reckon someone somewhere is paying the piper,” Nora says dourly.
“Don’t be such a party pooper—the universe just filled your well!” Eve says happily as she eyes me suspiciously. No change there, then.
“My well’s got a hole in it,” Nora grumbles. “Things never last. You get nothing for nothing in this life, girl.”
The words of a sage. Eve knows it, too, but she throws up her hands anyway. “Who cares where it came from?”
“Or who?” Nora sends a suspicious glare my way. “Here, I suppose you can have this. It was for Yara,” she mutters, almost begrudgingly placing one of the bags into my hands, whether I want it or not. I murmur my thanks.
“Hell’s bells and buggeration, my knees are killing me,” she complains, leaning her weight against the pen’s fence. “Reckon the clinic would let me book in for new knees with that money?”
“Even if they said yes, you wouldn’t use it,” Eve scoffs. She leans in as I part the paper bag with my forefinger, her voice lowering to an amused purr. “Remember every woman’s favorite c-word?”
“What was that?” the old woman demands.
“I was just telling Oliver these are your favorites,” Eve replies.
“Hark at her!” Nora pulls a face. “I’m not deaf, you know. Or dead. In fact, I used to like a bit of c-word myself, back in the day.”
“Cake, Nora! I was talking about cake!”
“At your age, joy shouldn’t be limited to a bit of sugar, unless we’re using it as a euphemism for a bit of the other.” She gives a ribald laugh. “Enjoy plenty while it’s available. Use it before you lose it, I say!”
Eve tips back her head, muttering something to the clouds. Seeking divine intervention, perhaps.
“And you?” The older woman scowls in my direction. “You eat that Hairy Mary.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Go on, get your laughing gear around it.”
“I . . .” Have no idea what the answer is. That I’d love to, morning, noon, and night, if it were up to me? Should I point out we’re no longer living in the 1970s, that Eve’s preference is for deforestation? The truth is, I’d spend days between her thighs regardless of the pruning situation. But that’s none of Nora’s business.
“Oh, my gawd, look at his face!” The old woman cackles.
“Oh my gosh,” Eve repeats, though not with the same level of amusement as her gaze dips to the paper bag in my hand. “I do not want to know where your mind just went, but Nora was talking about that.” She points to the bag. “The cake is called a Hairy Mary.” She enunciates the name very carefully. “A supposed London delicacy.”
“I’ve never heard of it.” I peer dubiously into the bag at something that resembles baked goods. While delicacy suggests something dainty, this feels more like a brick. Puff pastry, icing, and a sprinkling of desiccated coconut. I suppose the latter is the connection to its name.
“You thought I was talking about that other other c-word, didn’t you?” Nora says, using the back of her hand to wipe away tears of mirth. “You’ve got yourself a proper dirty bird, my girl!”
“I think that was a compliment,” Eve says to no one in particular.
I know which I’d rather eat.
“I’m just pleased someone remembers what a Hairy Mary looks like these days.” Nora sighs. “Make the most of it, son, because when you get to my age, it all falls out.”
“Nora!” Eve spins on her heel and tugs on my hand. “Really? You had to go there?”
The old woman’s laughter follows us almost the whole way out.
EVIE
“Hey, Ted. Sorry I’m covered in dog hair.” I shift uncomfortably in the back of Oliver’s pristine Bentley, brushing at my black jeans.
“That’s all right, miss,” the driver replies jovially. Other than the occasional nod, it’s the first time he’s spoken to me. “It’s nothing that won’t vacuum.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Yara.
Oh. My. GOD! Your new Romeo is giving me such hot daddy vibes.