CHAPTER 4
Morgan parked in front of the hen house, otherwise known as Granny Lou’s house. The scattered vehicles strewn about were a good indication that she was really preparing to enter the hornets’ nest. Or, the ladies weekly girl time
that included Gran’s famous snickerdoodles and some sort of doctored up beverage.
Their group had grown over recent months with Meg and Lydia being added to the mix. Their conversation ranged from planning and organizing the latest town event, to who was caught sneaking out of what house at what hour. The small-town gossip grapevine tended to run strong through Granny as the town’s geriatric mafia leader.
Given the smirks and knowing looks Morgan received as she entered the sunroom that hosted the gathering, the gossip grapevine was in full force and the news of Morgan’s house guest beat her to the party. “You can all drop the scandalous grins; you’re making this something it’s not,” she said, standing tall with confident shoulders back, ready for the inevitable meddling she had just stepped smack dab in the middle of.
“Why, Morgan, we haven’t a clue what you mean, dear,” Evie replied with batting eyelashes and a sickening sweet tone.
“Can’t say I blame ya – hear he’s a hot piece of…” Jessie added, before being cut off by a not so amused Morgan.
“Right – not a clue
– just like none of us has a clue
about you and Doc Charles, Ev? Or, maybe you and Blake, Jess?” Morgan deflected all attention back to the two most likely to sling shit with a confidant grin and raised brow. She was a no shit zone
kind of girl – and she could play dirty right back.
“Now girls, that’s enough of that,” Granny intervened. “How is Guy
doing today, honey?”
Her stare was pointed at Morgan, but the whole group began to look back and forth, not sure who Granny was talking about, and suddenly concerned with her current mental state.
“Who…Gran?” Sam asked first, her medical background raising red flags.
“Guy!” she responded, scanning the room, taking in the looks of confusion. “You know, Guy
! Morgan’s Guy
!”
“Uh, I don’t have a…guy, Gran,” Morgan gently delivered, not wanting to further upset Gran who already seemed confused.
Granny Lou’s eye’s launched in a dramatic eye roll, followed by a deep exhale and a few choice muffled words said under her breath. “GUY! Morgie’s Guy? The Guy? Guy from her property? Guy, in the hospital? The mystery Guy? The Guy that doesn’t know who he is – God bless’em – thee Guy
!” she said in utter frustration.
“You done thought I lost my marbles again, didn’t ya? I may be of vintage age, but I’m as sharp as a spring chicken and I know a Guy when I see one. Everyone’s going around calling him some sorta Guy
– so I named him somethin’ proper…and appropriate.” She chuckled, quite pleased with her own reasoning.
“Oh – Guy. That Guy,” Evie chuckled, shaking her head.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate to really name him – I mean, he already has a name,” Morgan said softly, considering what Gran had just said.
“Oh, does he now? And what would that name be, dear?” Gran questioned.
Morgan looked at the faces around the room, noting that each of the women was looking down, some biting their lip, and trying not to laugh.
“Well…” she began.
“Well, what dear? You plan on hollerin’ hey you
every time you want the boy’s attention? Well that’s about as polite as a snake bite at midnight in the middle of winter, dear,” Gran added with a wink and smile. “Guy.”
“Guy?” Morgan continued to question, rolling the name around.
“Guy!” Granny said over her shoulder as she left the room with a wave.
“She has spoken,” Carigan chuckled. “So, how is Guy
?”
“Seriously? Is this going to be a thing
now?” Morgan asked. “Everyone calling him Guy?”
A resounding yes
was said in unison, including a small distant voice from the kitchen – Granny Lou.
“Who cares, it’s not like we know what else to call the guy – see, she was right! Guy makes sense,” Jessie agreed. “So dish, why the sleep over?”
Morgan sat in an empty chair, closing the circle around the table. “It’s not a sleep over
; I’m just putting him up until we know who he is. I mean, where else is the guy gonna go?” Morgan closed her eyes and shook her head at the last few words she shared.
On cue and with her finger always on the pulse, Granny chimed in from the kitchen, yet again, “See? I told you! Guy!”
“How does she do that?” Carigan’s question was more than a loud whisper.
“I may be old, but I’m not deaf!” came the voice from the kitchen again.
Carigan’s eyes widened and jaw dropped, prompting Evie to chime in about her bewildering grandmother. “Don’t bother, I gave up trying to figure her out a decade ago – she probably has the house bugged or something.”
Granny walked back into the room with a fresh plate of her famous snickerdoodles in hand. “Oh, don’t be foolish girl; I wouldn’t know a thing about that. It’s just this house – good acoustics – sound flows through these halls like a babbling brook.”
“Acoustics?” Evie said under her breath to Jessie beside her, who responded with a baffled shrug.
“So, back to Guy,” Jessie added. “What’s the story – sleepover – spill!”
“I said it’s not a sleepover. He is being released from the hospital and doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I happen to have plenty of room on the ranch with all of the bunkhouses and the carriage house,” Morgan defended.
Carigan found a hole in the story and took the opportunity to clarify in an it’s none of my business but
tone, in between bites of her cookie. “Hey, I thought you said you were at capacity with the season opening last weekend.”
“Oh, guess I didn’t really think about that – well, I’ll figure something out. Plenty of room in the main house too, it’s just me,” Morgan reasoned.
“I knew it! Morgie’s planning a sleepover
with her sexy stranger! Go Morgie!” Jessie cheered with a cat call whistle and fist pump.
Evie wouldn’t be left out of the campaign to make their friend blush, and leave all of the fun to Jessie. “You’re at least going to let those busted ribs heal a bit before you – ya know…” She let the rest of the words trail off to the imaginations of those giggling along with the taunting, but before she tossed in her own slow low whistle and a single brow waggle.
“Seriously? Okay, you guys have your smutty fun. I’m just picking up his clothes so he has something to wear out of the hospital. I’ll figure out what he’s going to wear the rest of the week, later.” Morgan stood to leave, annoyed by her good intentioned, irritating friends.
“Isn’t that the point, Morgie? Nothing to wear makes it a lot easier to…”
“For the love of beer and whiskey, Everly Louise Shaw, leave the poor girl alone. What she’s doin’ is a kind gesture. Besides, I’d guess it to be a few weeks before anything starts to stir.” Granny’s attempt to defend quickly diverted to rib poking of her own. “A bit of a prude, our Morgie.”
Morgan’s head fell back in a dramatic collaboration with her loud exasperated sigh. “Later! Thanks for washing these! Get back to planning the Spring Fling, and stop worrying about what’s not
going on at my house!”
“Wait! Morgan?”
She stopped and slowly turned, disgust and irritation on full display as she responded, “Yes, Sam?”
Hand in front of her, palms out demonstrating she comes in peace, Sam said, “I can grab a few things of Dawson’s for…Guy. We’ll be out for Ellie’s riding lesson tomorrow anyway – I can drop them by then?”
Megan chimed in with a delighted expression, clearly thrilled with the idea. “Me too! I mean, I’ll bring some of Colton’s things. That should tide him over. I’ll come for… Ellie’s lesson too!”
“Me too,” Jessie hollered. “But I’m not bringing clothes, or coming there for the kid’s lesson. I just want to go for the show.”
“Of course you do!” She turned to leave, tossing a wave in the air as she went, knowing full well that she would have a full cast of looky-loos in the coming days. “See you all
tomorrow.”