“You won’t even believe it, girl, he took me to a speakeasy! A speakeasy!” My grandma Maple’s laugh trilled, echoing against the lush flowers, plants and herbs before bouncing off the small garden near the shed. “I haven’t been to one of those since I was your age!”

Yeah, in case you’re wondering, my grandma has a better social life than I do. “And did it stand against the test of time?” I bit into my turkey and avocado sandwich and sipping my spiked lemonade, courtesy of, you guessed it, good ol’ grandma.

“It did. Of course, ours were much cooler but these new ones are dark and smoky, the drinks are strong and most of all, you feel like James Bond trying to get in! Ted was as shocked as I was and he found the place.” Ted was Maple’s newest love du jour, but I have a feeling he’ll be around longer than the others. “I even let him stay a while.”

My brows rose. “Well I guess he is more than a silver stud.” That was her term for the men in her age group who were hot to look at but had nothing between the ears, according to her.

“So far, he is. If he plays his cards right, he’ll stay the whole night next time.” She spoke confidently, fluffing her gray curls primly.

I laughed and took another sip, enjoying this late lunch with Maple. I had just finished up a big design project for an indie band so I planned to enjoy the next couple days for myself. Technically I worked as a freelance graphic designer, but calling my work freelance would be a disservice. I did jobs for everything from small boutique bakeries to album covers and websites for the latest celebrity du jour. “Ted is a lucky man, Grandma.”

She laughed and took a long gulp of her own lemonade. “I tell him that every chance I get.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her confident words. Maple was the best person I knew, loud and colorful, strong and independent. She raised me to be the same, from the time the police dropped me off at her place when I was just four years old. “Ted’s a keeper,” I told her.

“We’ll see. Meanwhile, let’s talk about you. You need to get out there and put that body to use before it shrivels up and falls off.”

“Grandma, seriously? I’d think after all your experience you’d know it doesn’t work like that.”

Maple snorted. “You should listen to me. Believe me. I’m older and wiser.” She tapped one long red nail on the wooden table between us. “I’ll set you up with someone. My poker buddies all have single sons, nephews and daughters, if that’s your thing.”

“You know damn well they aren’t my thing,” I told her, earning one of her loud guffaws. “How about we go see an all nude version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“That sounds delightful! Just tell me these are all young folks because I don’t need to see saggy tits and balls for three hours,” she grumbled, finishing her lemonade and topping us both off.

I enjoyed these afternoons with Maple. She was getting older even though she’d never admit it, and we had the perfect living arrangement, thanks to her foresight. About a year after the plane crash that killed my parents, Maple took the insurance money and bought a duplex in a nice residential neighborhood in the heart of Portland. She rented one side out and we lived in the other, until I finished college. With a proud smile she handed me the deed and said the unit next door was finally empty.

We’ve been neighbors ever since. “It’s a mixed bag, Maple, depending on the role.”

“I guess that’s all right, then. Plenty of time for pre-show cocktails.” My grandma, always worried about the important things.

A knock sounded on the fence that led to the backyard, startling us both. “I’m looking for Poppy Masters,” a deep, very masculine voice called out.

“You selling something?”

“No,” he said, voice clearly amused.

“Then it’s open.”

The wooden door swung open and a tall well-built man in a blue suit, complete with a vest and everything, walked through. He held a soft leather bag as his lean legs carried him up the stairs. “Hello, I am Anderson Hargrave, attorney for the estate of Arden Masters.”

“Arden! What’s that old coot want?” She rolled her eyes but smiled affectionately at the mention of her brother. Older by nearly twenty years, they’d never been close.

“I’m sorry ma’am but Mr. Masters died about a week ago.” He offered up a polite smile of condolences.

“No one told me,” Maple grumbled.

“I’m Poppy and this is Maple, Arden’s kid sister.” His skin paled, but only slightly.

“Poppy Masters, according to Mr. Arden Masters’ wishes, you are the sole beneficiary of Out & About Apparel. You may do with it what you wish, but only after running it for twelve months.” He kept talking, about money and a home in Aspen and a bunch of other details I zoned out on because, what the hell had just happened? “Do you have any questions?”

Only about a million, but the most pressing popped out first. “Why me?”

He smiled, and damn but he was a good looking guy. Not that I was in the market for any kind of guy, but I could enjoy the view. “You are the youngest Master among Arden’s children as well as his nieces and nephews, unmarried and with a skillset Out & About Apparel could use.”

I blinked. “Seriously?” He nodded. “Well then I suppose you should have a seat and tell me everything.”