***
“SOMETHING WITH THE museums?” Miranda Shaun says. “I’m on the board for the Natural History Museum, maybe we could work out some sort of deal with them.”
“Nope,” Gran says. “Too boring.”
“Car wash?” Lottie Bolt asks. “After all, we have those really sexy swimsuits that go up your hiney. I think we could make a nice chunk of change with a car wash.”
“Now you’re talking.” Gran grins. “I like Lottie’s idea. What do you think, Annie? You’ve seen the suits I found.”
“Oh, um... I don’t think that’s the best option. And those are not the suits we’re going with; we decided on skirts.”
“Really?” Lottie asks. “Why not?”
“Well, it’s not exactly original,” I say. “Pretty much every cheerleading squad and dance troupe in America uses car washes for fundraisers. Also, the suits Gran found would get you kicked off the streets for indecent exposure.”
I survey the ten ladies here, all of them having dragged themselves out of bed at the crack of dawn to talk about fundraising for a retired synchronized swim team.
They want to buy matching suits for the competition, and they want to do it the old-fashioned way with real, honest-to-goodness fundraising. My mind is boggled. It’s not like these ladies can’t just afford a suit.
“What about selling candy bars or something?” Miranda asks. “It must work. Kids are still coming around with them.”
“Nope,” Gran says. “We’re old. Half of us can’t eat candy anymore. As for me, I want to be skinny for the competition.”
“I like chocolate,” Lottie says. “But not nuts. I’m allergic to nuts.”
“What if we didn’t do chocolate, but some other treat?” Miranda looks around. “We could bake. Everyone loves baked goods.”
“Then we need everyone to bring something, and it’s a lot of work,” Gran says. “Something easier.”
“What if we all cooked together?” I raise a hand and glance at the ladies. “Pancake breakfast! Those can be fun.”
“I like this,” Gran says. “That’s where we all cook and sell tickets for five bucks a pop, right? It’s like a social gathering and a fundraiser. I bet everyone from church will come.”
“Donald loves pancakes,” Miranda says. “He’ll bring all of his poker friends.”
Gran leans over and whispers, “Donald’s her husband. He’s a grouch, but he’s rich. Fancy dentist or something.”
“Donald’s friends tip very well,” Miranda says, not disagreeing with the rest of it. “I think this is a great idea. We’ll have swimsuits in no time. Anything extra we can donate to charity.”
Lottie gives a resounding cheer all by herself. Then, she gestures for the waitress to pour another round of coffee and raises her mug like a mimosa. “All for it, say aye!”
An excited chorus of aye reaches my ears, and I squint at the enthusiasm.
“My church has a gathering area in the basement they don’t use much Saturday mornings,” Lottie offers, pulling over a napkin and scribbling the name on it. “So long as there’s not a funeral, we should be good to use it there. We can make a donation with the leftover funds.”
“Done.” I take a napkin from Lottie. “I vote sometime in April. Give the weather some time to warm up, but it’s still early enough that we’re not running up against the dress rehearsal for the swim competition.”
“I’ll call and book a date so people know not to die that week,” Lottie says. “Even if there is a funeral, maybe we can combine the two and get some mourners in for pancakes.”
“Lottie!” Miranda says, her voice hushed. “Have some sensitivity.”
“It’s not a horrible idea,” Gran says. “It might cheer them up. Pancakes always make me happy.”
“Gran!” It’s my turn to scold. “Okay, I’m glad this is settled. I have to get to class.”
Calls of thank-you drift up from the table as Gran stands next to me. Together, we wave, call goodbyes to all, and head out the door. Once in the car, I look over at Gran who’s smiling happily behind the wheel.
“One question,” I tell her as she flicks on a pair of bright purple sunglasses and throws the car into reverse. “Why on earth do you need a fundraiser? Miranda’s got a ring on her finger the size of Jupiter. She could afford all of them.”
“Yeah, but it’s fun. I’m old, honey.” Gran rests her hand on my leg and gives a squeeze. “Let a woman have some fun. Who knows? Maybe I’ll meet a dashing young man there who’ll ask me on a date. Now, enough about me. Are you excited for today?”
“Sure.”
“You’re guarding yourself.”
“Am not.”
“Fine, then let’s try this again. Are you excited for today?”
“Maybe.” I offer her a small smile. “It’s too early to tell.”
“Take a leap, dear. Let yourself feel excited.”
“It’s too soon! When did you leap with Gramps?”
“Oh, goodness gracious. We leapt so many times we lived life on a trampoline, darling. There’s not one instance, but many. You have to trust over, and over, and over again.”
“I don’t even know him.”
“But you have to start somewhere.”
“What if he lets me down?”
Gran slows the car to a stop. We’re outside of my apartment complex already, and without realizing it, I’d worked myself into a tizzy. My breath comes in short waves, and my hand is grasping the handle tight.
Gran’s fingers close around mine, the car warm and toasty now that the heater’s blasting. She moves our intertwined fingers into her lap and hesitates a long moment before answering. “Just because some people in your life have let you down time and time again, it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t try to trust another man.”
“This isn’t about my dad,” I say, and it comes out sharper than I’d intended. “Mom was always there for me. So was Gramps. I had a man I could depend on with him.”
“Okay, then,” Gran says. “I’m done preaching. Just try to remember that any relationship worth having will make you nervous. There are a million and one ways everything can go wrong.”
“Gee, that’s uplifting.”
“Which is why it’s a miracle when things go right. When you find that right one, there’s nothing better. Let yourself open up—you might be surprised to find what you need.”
“I know what I need in a man, Gran.”
“Yeah.” She speaks so softly it’s barely a whisper. “I thought so, too. I was wrong.”
“But—”
“Let’s just say I’m sure as hell glad that I wasn’t right.” Gran’s fingers tighten as she brings my hand up to kiss the back of it. “Have fun, honey. If nothing else happens, you get a free meal out of it. That’s what I told myself, too.”
As I scurry across campus a few minutes later, backpack hunched over my shoulders and thick mittens added to my outfit, I can’t help but wonder if Gran’s right.
What if I’m wrong about everything?
What if Cohen isn’t wrong for me?