Page 101 of Breaking Emily's Rules
“I’d say you did a fine job!” Julia said. She’d been apologetic for weeks about the genealogy mistake. “You know, this family history goes both ways.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What I mean is that sometimes we, as genealogists, get so preoccupied with the past that we forget we’re making history right now. And one of us sitting here tonight just accomplished something that my great-grandchildren will someday hear about. As long as we keep a good record of it.” She patted her book.
“Right. Can’t forget the record keeping.” I smiled and powered up my laptop.
“Also, if you don’t mind my saying, dear, can’t forget to have those children.” Marjory patted my hand. “Won’t have any great-nothing without first having children.”
“Now, now. Let her take her time and do it right,” Grammy, bless her, said.
“Of course!” Luanne said. “But when you’re ready, we’ll fix you up.”
“Great, Luanne! Is your nephew not married yet?” Marjory asked.
“Oh, no, not him. He’s dating a nurse. So predictable.” Luanne tsked-tsked.
I wasn’t ready now. I hadn’t been ready two months ago, but that was humiliation talking. Now I thought I understood true love, that rushing overwhelming pulse I felt whenever I saw Stone. It was a little bit of panic, a splash of helplessness and a whole pound of vulnerability. The other day I’d seen his back as he walked into the coffee shop and my heart rate had sped up into what felt like the triple digits.
There wasn’t anything quite like being in love, even if it was one-sided. That rush to the senses, robbing a person of rational thought. No way would I ever settle again. Never again would I have color-coded ties, assigned days of the week for making love and beige. No sir, not in my house.
“Unless you’re seeing someone…” Luanne still seemed worried about my impending spinsterhood.
I ignored her, navigating to the genealogy research site. But in the gaping silence, I looked up to find all three women studying me. “No. Not seeing anyone.”
“I, however, am,” Grammy said.
I froze. Every eye in the room turned toward Grammy.
“Am what?” I asked.
“Seeing someone. If anyone cares.”
“Why, you old broad!” Luanne cackled.
“Who is it?” Julia and Marjory said at once.
“George,” Grammy said as if she’d just announced what was for dinner.
But this was big. Huge. Momentous. “George, our employee?” Her friend George, handyman George. Po’man Margarita George. And Grammy? When? For how long? My brain fired off too many questions at once and none of them seemed to formulate as a complete thought.
Grammy waved her hand. “Now please, don’t you all make this weird. I wouldn’t have said anything, but now that Emily’s moved out, he’s probably going to take her loft, and I know how people talk. So I figured I’d just try to get ahead of it.”
“Wait. You mean he’s—he’s moving in?” I finally stammered out.
“I wouldn’t say he’s moving in exactly.”
“Sure sounds that way,” Luanne said with a nod.
“Good Lord, Jean,” Marjory said. “What will people say?”
“They better not say anything if they know what’s good for them. I’m an old lady, but I’m not going to stop living until someone takes me to the crematorium. I’m not getting buried, you know. It’s too expensive.” Grammy turned to Emily. “Remember. The dining room.”
I wiped a bead of sweat off my brow. “I’m—I mean, I’m—”
“I think she’s trying to say she’s happy for you,” Luanne interceded.
“Sure, that’s what I mean,” I said. “We’re all happy for you, Grammy.”
