Page 9 of Missile Tow
Mrs. Hatfield grinned in delight, reaching for her cell phone from her bag. She touched the screen, searched through photos, and then held up the image to Bertie. “See for yourself,” she said, beaming like one of her granddaughters had just been crowned Miss Universe.
“I’m sure your granddaughters are beautiful,” I stated. “They probably take after you.”
“It’s a man,” Bertie whispered, grabbing the phone from Sadie and pulling the image closer. “Who the hell is he?” she asked, unconvinced Sadie could know someone who had so obviously impressed her.
“That is little James,” Sadie reported, seeming to fluff her imaginary feathers like a peacock. “You remember my grandson, who attends medical school in Seattle, don’t you?”
Bertie thrust the phone at me. I held it and turned the screen to myself. A close-up of a very handsome man, standing with hisarms crossed, wearing a white jacket with a stethoscope around his neck, smiled into the camera. “Holy shi…” I mouthed.
The little James I remembered had grown into gorgeous, hunky James. I’d played with this kid on summer breaks when his folks sent him to stay with Sadie. James had stopped coming to Missile when I was twelve or so.
The last time I saw him, he seemed a bit feminine. But the picture made things hard to tell. He was two years older, but had been smaller than me back then. He wasn’t so little anymore. Or so plain. Or so forgettable.
“We met when we were kids, Mrs. Hatfield,” I reminded her. “We already know one another.”
She grinned and leaned toward me. “I told him John left you and that you are single now,” she said, almost too gleefully. “He insisted on visiting for the holiday the moment I mentioned the break-up to him.”
“James is gay?” I asked, confirming a hunch I’d had.
Bertie seemed less enthusiastic than I and Mrs. Hatfield. “Probably not!” Bertie interrupted, hating that Sadie had something to brag about. “Wishful thinking from an old lady.”
“Homosexualandsingle,” Sadie reported. “And I bet he could be convinced to do his residency in Missoula,” she added. “Just a short distance from here, son.”
“You sure he wants to reconnect with me?” I asked, suddenly thinking of possibilities post John.
“He practically insisted,” she answered.
I glanced past Sadie and at Bertie. She’d let go of her stern look and locked eyes with me, almost willing me to say yes. “I’ll come to dinner if I can bring Bertie as my date,” I stated. “We’d planned on sharing Christmas dinner, ma’am.”
Bertie opened her mouth to protest, but I conveyed with raised eyebrows that I wouldn’t go without her. She got my hint.“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’d planned on having Chip over to my place. Being he’d be alone and stuff.”
Sadie turned to face Bertie. “And you’ll behave?”
“Probably not,” Bertie retorted.
“She’ll be on her very best behavior,” I said. “I’ll make sure of that.”
Sadie looked back and forth at us, finally nodding. “Well, good. Then it is confirmed. James and I. And you and… you and… this… this…”
“Careful, Hatfield,” Bertie warned.
“And you and Bertie,” she finished. “Four for dinner on Christmas Eve at, let’s say, six-ish.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hatfield,” I stated. “And tell James I look forward to seeing him again after all these years.”
Sadie was beaming. She gave Bertie one final glance, her nose slightly elevated. She loved that she had something over Bertie. I knew she felt like another small victory was hers in this decades-long old-biddy warfare.
“Bertie,” she huffed, letting us know she was departing. “I guess I’ll be seeing you in two weeks?”
“You will,” Bertie confirmed.
Sadie gave Bertie a suspicious once-over. “Semi-formal holiday dress, please,” Sadie pushed, getting in one more dig. “You do own a dress, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Bertie confirmed. “The one I wear to funerals. I was saving it for yours, but I can bust it out early.”
“Oh my Lord,” Sadie huffed. “No wonder you married a redneck.”
“True, because my daddy wouldn’t trade three cows to old man Hatfield.”
