“Mr. Casbon?” Char asked from the front seat.
“Neighbor,” Jake growled. “Don’t ask.”
“He has a walker now,” Grandma added. “It’s harder for him to get around, though he is much more creative these days.” She chuckled. “You’ll meet him at the wedding.”
“Can’t wait.” Char grinned and winked at Jake.
“All right.” Jake opened the door. “Let me see it.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Pull up the pant leg. Let me see it.” He pointed down at her leg. “If you don’t let me see it I’m announcing it in the local church bulletin.”
Grandma gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“He would,” Char said. “Believe me, his apple definitely fell from your tree.”
Grandma smiled. “That’s my boy.”
“Up.” Jake motioned, ignoring the compliment.
“Fine.” Grandma pulled up her pant leg. The tattoo was really colorful; in fact it would’ve been a really pretty tattoo if the woman in the hula skirt wasn’t naked.
“Sailor Jerry,” Jake guessed.
At Char’s gasp Grandma said, “It’s a classic! Why, we had these around war time!”
“Naked is still naked, war or no war,” Jake said.
“Topless,” Grandma shrugged, “is not naked. It’s not as if I have the girls—”
“And you’re done talking,” Jake interrupted. “So what do we do? Char and I have to plan this joint party you’ve suddenly come up with out of nowhere and you don’t want anything to do with Petunia.”
With a dramatic sigh, Grandma got out of the car. “Fine, I’ll play nice. Just don’t let that, that, woman, near me!”
“Grandma.” Jake kissed her hand. “I knew we’d see eye to eye.”
“Rogue.” She winked. “You always were my favorite.”
“Funny; I heard you say the same thing to Travis not so long ago.”
She waved him off. “Yes, well, right now he’s on my shit list.”
Char burst into laughter behind them.
Grandma peered around Jake. “I know, I said ‘shit’, but it’s true. He’s been sneaking out of his room! Not to mention he’s terrible at it. He’ll thank me after the wedding night; that is if he doesn’t die first. But if he does at least he’ll die pure rather than as a sinner.”
“I think he and Kacey have already—”
“Shh, all right. I’m off to search for the vodka. I’m going to need strong spirits if I have to breathe the same air as Petunia the Prude.”
Char got out of the car and followed them. “Grandma, it’s like ten in the morning.”
“Dear.” Grandma turned and faced Char. “When you’re eighty-six and you’ve lived a long, full, and happy life, the last thing you pay attention to is the time. So it’s ten in the morning? It’s five o’clock somewhere!” With that, she waltzed off.
“Hmm,” Char said.
“What?” Jake looped his arm in hers.