One would think a sixty-three-year-old woman didn’t have to worry herself with nonsense like blind dates, but there she was.
Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she sensed the slightest lull in conversation as folks turned to see who’d come in. Cheeks burning, she walked to the first empty table that was neither too conspicuously close to the door, nor tucked too secretively in the corner.
Normally she wouldn’t have chosen the Thirsty Bear—it meant meeting her prospective beau in front of everyone and their brother, for goodness sake—but she’d hoped to grab a word with Edith. There were no secrets from anybody in Sierra Falls anyway. She could’ve driven all the way to Sacramento to meet the man, and still folks would’ve heard about it.
Pulling off her scarf, she smoothed her hair into shape. She dyed it and had regular blowouts, but no matter how much money she threw at it, gray hair had a life of its own. She hated that almost as much as the lines that seemed to etch themselves on her face overnight.
“Marlene!” Edith caught her eye and waved.
She waved back, giving her friend a smile that she had to force. Edith looked as effortlessly attractive as ever—Edith never had to work at it, and Edith’s husband clearly wasn?
??t going anywhere. Marlene only hoped the dim tavern lighting was working the same magic on her.
Edith gave one last word to Helen behind the bar before scampering over to join her. “I’ve ordered us a couple of glasses of wine,” she said. “It’s that sauvignon blanc for you, right?”
Marlene half stood to offer her cheek for a quick air-kiss. “That’s perfect. ” And of course it was—her friend seemed to remember everything about everyone.
She’d been a conundrum to Marlene since they’d met as girls. Edith always silently watching the world, noting everything. And just when she thought the woman was as passive as a lamb, she’d roar like a lion. Not that she needed to do much roaring—Edith and Bear had been together forever, and he did his fair share of bellowing for the two of them.
Helen came over with two glasses of white wine, looking put out that she had to step from behind the bar. The two women shared a quiet chuckle as the bartender walked away.
“She’s a piece of work,” Marlene whispered. “Flirts with everything in pants. And then’s a witch with a capital B to the rest of us. ”
Edith sighed, watching Helen get back to work behind the bar. “She is, isn’t she?”
“So why not cut her loose?” Marlene didn’t understand why she kept the woman around. There were any number of people in their town who’d do backflips to get some extra work.
“We all of us have our troubles,” Edith said mysteriously.
“Ain’t it the truth. ” Marlene raised her glass to toast that bit of obvious wisdom. She took a big sip, but the wine suddenly tasted too tart. Her friend’s relentlessly forgiving and openhearted outlook made Marlene feel jealous and small. She tried to be kinder in her thoughts, adding, “To women with troubles. ”
Edith sipped, but shook her head. “How can you say you have troubles when you’re looking so pretty?”
Marlene smiled, not expecting the compliment. “Oh, Edith,” she replied with grudging honesty, “it’s you who’s looking pretty. As always. ”
Edith had blond good looks, and she’d given them to her daughters, too. Weren’t fair-skinned women supposed to age more quickly? Marlene touched her own forehead—she wondered how that Botox stuff worked. She was certain there were any number of doctors in Reno or even in nearby Silver City who worked with it. Maybe it was time to give it a try.
“Enough about me. So”—Edith leaned close to whisper—“you’re meeting a man here tonight? How exciting. ”
Hardly. She remembered her blind date and smiled stiffly, nodding. Exciting wasn’t the word she’d use. What would be exciting was if she’d already met the man, and he’d been a classy, gentlemanly sort of fellow. Someone who’d had a good, respectable career. A widower judge, perhaps. Or maybe a retired doctor. Someone who was kind, with a full head of hair, a healthy nest egg, and a nice sedan. Something foreign maybe, with a leather interior that was a color named something like ebony or champagne. She could put this Internet dating nonsense behind her.
And the next time Frank visited Sierra Falls, he’d see her, and see how well she was doing, and how spoiled she was, and he’d be jealous and realize what a fool he’d been to leave her.
“But aren’t you worried about this online stuff?” Edith asked, pulling her from the fantasy. “I’ve heard stories. ”
Marlene had heard them, too, and a big part of her was terrified about all the crazies out there. But instead she made herself sound bravely nonchalant. “Oh no, it’s perfectly safe. All the singles are carefully screened. ” She hoped. “And what other choice do I have? I’ve lived here my whole life, and as far as I know, there aren’t any retirees zipping around Sierra Falls in any sports cars, looking for wives. ”
Edith slumped at that, unable to muster a rebuttal. “Forget men, then. How are you?”
Marlene sipped her wine, considering. How was she?
She was a sixty-three-year-old woman on a blind date. She was struggling to keep hold of her dignity. The last time she’d dated, she hadn’t needed to figure out how to balance her reading glasses on her face in order to put on eye makeup. The last time she’d dated, it’d been with boys she’d grown up with, nice boys her parents knew, not a bunch of strangers who might or might not be kooks.
She’d gone straight from raising four kids—four boys—to taking care of two elderly aunts and an ailing mother who was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She shouldn’t be sitting in a bar drinking Bear Bailey’s crappy sauvignon blanc.
That’s how she was.
What she said instead was, “I’m plugging along, Edith. You?”