“As soon as someone found out I was a widower, the competition began,” he said. “I understand it’s worse in assisted living places. The ratio is so bad there, that women read the obits to find out who’s come on the market. At least here there are only two or three.” He put his arm around me and said, “They’re going to be disappointed.”
I couldn’t help myself. My shoulders went back with a little boost of confidence.
What was it about winning the guy, even for a moment, that felt so damn good?
Sorry, God.
I really had to stop swearing in church.
“Back again, Diane,” the priest said. “It’s good to see you. Will you be leaving town with our friend, Joe?”
“Oh, we’re not traveling together,” I said. “I’m with my sisters. We’ll be heading out next week. And going in different directions. Joe’s going to South Dakota, and we’re going to Jackson.”
I slammed my lips shut.
“I see,” the priest said, glancing between us. “And will you be going to church in Jackson?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged my shoulders to let the father know my return wasn’t guaranteed.
“I will pray for it,” he said.
The few people behind us stirred.
“I’ll see you at coffee hour,” he said, and we continued down the steps.
Coffee hour had been set up outside, in a small grove of aspens. People crowded around the urns, and the blonde stood smiling by her cake. Other goodies filled in around it, most covered by some type of lid to keep away the bees who were having trouble distinguishing between natural and refined sugar.
On our way to the urn, Charlotte snagged us.
“I wanted to make sure you had my contact information,” she said to Joe, holding out her phone.
“Yes, you made sure I had it as soon as you learned I lived near Butte. But like I said to you then, I’ll be moving to Ennis not too long after I return, so there may not be an opportunity to get together.”
“Oh, pooh. Ennis isn’t that far from Butte.”
I plucked two mugs from the table as Charlotte continued to chatter at Joe. This would be over soon. Sooner if I could speed it along.
I shouldn’t care how long it took to go from Butte to Ennis.
The priest waved his arms for attention, and everyone stilled. “Normally, we don’t say a lot—other than prayers—for people who are leaving the congregation. There are just too many people coming and going around here.”
Chuckles.
“But Joe has made his presence known in the few short weeks he’s been here, and some of the …” He cleared his throat. “… ladies wanted to give him a send-off.”
“I baked a cake,” the blonde pointed out.
“Yes. And we know from experience, they are very good cakes. So everyone have a piece.” He raised his coffee cup. “Safe travels, Joe. May the good Lord bring you safely back to see us some day.”
“Here, here,” the crowd murmured and drank from their cups.
The blonde escorted Joe to the snacks table. “Now you get to cut the cake,” she said, handing him a cake knife.
The message on top of the cake said, “Come back soon!!”
Joe dutifully cut.
She took the knife from him, her fingers lingering on his hand as she did, and deftly cut him a corner piece. “You know,” she said, as she handed him the piece. “Ennis isn’t that far from here. I’d be happy to drive over. You do have my info, don’t you?”