walked the few paces across the breezeway, and knocked on the opposite door. A woman in old-school Jane Fonda workout gear answered.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your workout, Ms. Effie.”
“I was finishing up my stretching. Come on in, young lady. I’ll fix us some refreshment.”
Before she could protest, Ms. Effie was off to the kitchen. The woman was a marvel. Seventy-seven and a whirlwind of energy. She was diligent about keeping in shape and taking care of herself. She knew that as soon as she was unable to climb the steps to her apartment, her son would insist she move into a nursing home. He worried about her and wanted her somewhere she would be taken care of. A burden taken off his plate.
She came out of the kitchen balancing a tray with two tall glasses and a plateful of cookies. Nudging her chin toward a flowered couch, she set the tray down on a low-slung coffee table polished to a shine.
Tally sank down onto the springy cushion and took a bite of a cookie. Peanut butter. Her father’s favorite, which meant her mother had made lots of batches of peanut-butter cookies.
“Tell me what’s going on between you and Nash. I didn’t realize the two of you were acquainted.” Waggling her eyebrows, Ms. Effie leaned into the corner of the couch and crossed her legs at the knee, a striped leg warmer bunched around her calf. Tally prayed her legs looked half as good as Ms. Effie’s when she hit seventy.
“He’s an old friend, is all. We grew up on the river together. How do you know Nash?”
“Goodness, I’ve known Nash for ages. His aunt would bring him to quilting circle on occasion. Nose always in a book as a young man as I recall, but so polite. Not like some of the young’uns today.”
Tally hadn’t considered Ms. Effie’s friendship with Nash’s aunt through the Quilting Bee. “His aunt…” She took a bite of cookie.
“Leora’s a character, that’s for certain, but a good woman. Loves Nash like he was her own.” Ms. Effie took a sip of tea and tilted her head as if waiting for something.
“Maybe so, but she doesn’t hold much stock in me. In fact, I think she hates me.”
Ms. Effie made a humming sound. “You can blame your family name for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not my story to tell.”
“But what—”
“I want to hear about Nash. What’s he like now? He dropped Leora off at the Quilting Bee the other morning and had half the ladies reaching for their blood-pressure medicine. The other half needs new glasses.”
A laugh welled up and out, like the top of a pressure cooker releasing steam. The hours of the morning had been packed with a gamut of emotions—all intense.
“Nash is—” How to describe him? One word wouldn’t suffice. She shrugged. “Nice. And funny. And sweet. And smart. And, really, really, really good-looking.”
“Thank you, Jesus,” Ms. Effie held her hands up to the heavens revival-style. A grin drew her face into a myriad of crinkles. While she had the body of a fifty-year-old, her face bore the damage of too many years spent sun worshipping. “You’re finally pursuing a man who sounds worthy of you.”
“I’m not pursuing Nash. We’re childhood friends.”
“So this really, really, really good-looking guy is just an old friend.”
“Exactly.” Tally pulled at a loose thread at a seam of the couch. “Except he tried to kiss me. Or maybe I tried to kiss him. Either way, it would have been a huge mistake.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. So you wanted him to kiss you?”
Tally rolled her eyes and shoved a cookie into her mouth.
“I’m taking your deflection as a yes. Do you have plans to meet up again as friends?” Ms. Effie air-quoted the last two words.
“We’re going to the Fourth of July block party on River Street. But it’s not a date or anything.” Best not to mention the illicit plans they had for the water tower. Although knowing Ms. Effie, she’d probably want to ride along.
“It’s a start.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your workout, Ms. Effie.”
“I was finishing up my stretching. Come on in, young lady. I’ll fix us some refreshment.”
Before she could protest, Ms. Effie was off to the kitchen. The woman was a marvel. Seventy-seven and a whirlwind of energy. She was diligent about keeping in shape and taking care of herself. She knew that as soon as she was unable to climb the steps to her apartment, her son would insist she move into a nursing home. He worried about her and wanted her somewhere she would be taken care of. A burden taken off his plate.
She came out of the kitchen balancing a tray with two tall glasses and a plateful of cookies. Nudging her chin toward a flowered couch, she set the tray down on a low-slung coffee table polished to a shine.
Tally sank down onto the springy cushion and took a bite of a cookie. Peanut butter. Her father’s favorite, which meant her mother had made lots of batches of peanut-butter cookies.
“Tell me what’s going on between you and Nash. I didn’t realize the two of you were acquainted.” Waggling her eyebrows, Ms. Effie leaned into the corner of the couch and crossed her legs at the knee, a striped leg warmer bunched around her calf. Tally prayed her legs looked half as good as Ms. Effie’s when she hit seventy.
“He’s an old friend, is all. We grew up on the river together. How do you know Nash?”
“Goodness, I’ve known Nash for ages. His aunt would bring him to quilting circle on occasion. Nose always in a book as a young man as I recall, but so polite. Not like some of the young’uns today.”
Tally hadn’t considered Ms. Effie’s friendship with Nash’s aunt through the Quilting Bee. “His aunt…” She took a bite of cookie.
“Leora’s a character, that’s for certain, but a good woman. Loves Nash like he was her own.” Ms. Effie took a sip of tea and tilted her head as if waiting for something.
“Maybe so, but she doesn’t hold much stock in me. In fact, I think she hates me.”
Ms. Effie made a humming sound. “You can blame your family name for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not my story to tell.”
“But what—”
“I want to hear about Nash. What’s he like now? He dropped Leora off at the Quilting Bee the other morning and had half the ladies reaching for their blood-pressure medicine. The other half needs new glasses.”
A laugh welled up and out, like the top of a pressure cooker releasing steam. The hours of the morning had been packed with a gamut of emotions—all intense.
“Nash is—” How to describe him? One word wouldn’t suffice. She shrugged. “Nice. And funny. And sweet. And smart. And, really, really, really good-looking.”
“Thank you, Jesus,” Ms. Effie held her hands up to the heavens revival-style. A grin drew her face into a myriad of crinkles. While she had the body of a fifty-year-old, her face bore the damage of too many years spent sun worshipping. “You’re finally pursuing a man who sounds worthy of you.”
“I’m not pursuing Nash. We’re childhood friends.”
“So this really, really, really good-looking guy is just an old friend.”
“Exactly.” Tally pulled at a loose thread at a seam of the couch. “Except he tried to kiss me. Or maybe I tried to kiss him. Either way, it would have been a huge mistake.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. So you wanted him to kiss you?”
Tally rolled her eyes and shoved a cookie into her mouth.
“I’m taking your deflection as a yes. Do you have plans to meet up again as friends?” Ms. Effie air-quoted the last two words.
“We’re going to the Fourth of July block party on River Street. But it’s not a date or anything.” Best not to mention the illicit plans they had for the water tower. Although knowing Ms. Effie, she’d probably want to ride along.
“It’s a start.
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