surprised
us both by not only weathering her medical crisis but, now, with her nephew being engaged and all, she was determined to hang
around for the nuptials and for dandling baby versions of little Manny/Tressa on her knee.
I'd managed to keep news of this engagement under wraps. Aunt Mo had left Grandville for her customary southern migration
to warmer climes last fall, and Manny assured me by the time she returned, he'd have broken the news to her that we had mutually
decided to go our separate ways.
"Uh, what was the message?" I asked my grandma.
"Let's see. How did he put it again? Oh yes. 'Manny's aunt Mo not in the know,'" she said.
I frowned.
"Are you sure that's what he said?" I asked. Manny is a man of few words. Plus he has this weird habit of referring to himself
in third person. You know. Manny likes. Manny wants. Manny gets. Gulp.
"Not like a person's apt to get something like that wrong," Gram responded. "Mind translating?"
I chewed my meat with less enthusiasm. "It means your granddaughter is about to be so screwed," I replied.
"Oh, Tressa! I'm so happy!" Gram exclaimed. She put her fork down. "Wait a minute. Is Ranger Rick the lucky stud muffin, or
is Manny? I admit I never thought of you with Manny before, but come to think of it, he's no slouch. A little too dark and
mysterious for my taste, and big as a mountain, but I'm thinkin' that means he's loaded for bear!"
"Gram! I'm not talking about 'screwed' in the sexual sense," I said, scandalized, and Gram shook her head and picked up her
fork again.
"I mighta known," she complained. "So what are you talkin' about? What's this 'Aunt Mo not in the know' all about?"
The last thing I wanted to do was explain to Gram the whole situation. When it comes to spreading the word, she makes the
Internet seem like the pony express.
"Uh, I've just been helping Manny with a little ongoing secret surprise for his aunt is all," I told her. "And he was just
letting me know that she wasn't, uh, privy to our, uh, project yet," I said.
"So what's that got to do with you being screwed?" she asked.
My gammy gets a hold of something, you need wire cutters to disengage her.
"I just don't have the, uh, time right now to devote to the project," I explained, thinking I mainly didn't have the stamina
to pretend to be Manny's best girl. I'd bestowed a kiss on him several months back as part of the faux engagement--and because
he'd done something unexpectedly touching for me. Okay, so it probably involved some questionable tactics, but still, it's
the thought that counts, right? That unexpected act-- and the kiss that followed--had affected me more than I'd bargained
on. Manny DeMarco/Dishman was one supersized complication I didn't need in my life right now. Probably ever.
"I was attracted to a bad boy once," Gram remarked. "Johnny Devlin. Wore white T-shirts with his smokes folded up in one sleeve,
cigarette stuck behind his ear. Greased-back hair and denim jeans that rode low on lean hips. I knew he was trouble from the
moment I saw him."
"How, Gram? How?" I asked, thinking this was a talent that had bypassed me, but one that could come in very handy indeed.
"How? Why, he had it tattooed on his right bicep-- T-R-O-U-B-L-E."
"Good catch, Gram," I said. Checking the time I added, "I've got to head out. Just leave the dishes in the sink and I'll tend
to them when I get home," I told her, feeling guilty that she'd made the meal and was now stuck with the cleanup.
"Not to worry. Joe's coming over and he'll help," she said. "You know, it's kind of nice having a man around the house again.
'Course, your Paw Paw Will, God rest his soul, used to have his nose in the newspaper most of the time. Still, it's nice to
have someone around to share things with."
"I know, Gram," I said, reaching down to give her a kiss on one dry, perfumed cheek. I just wished she'd have picked someone
other than Ranger Rick's grandpappy.
"I shouldn't be too
us both by not only weathering her medical crisis but, now, with her nephew being engaged and all, she was determined to hang
around for the nuptials and for dandling baby versions of little Manny/Tressa on her knee.
I'd managed to keep news of this engagement under wraps. Aunt Mo had left Grandville for her customary southern migration
to warmer climes last fall, and Manny assured me by the time she returned, he'd have broken the news to her that we had mutually
decided to go our separate ways.
"Uh, what was the message?" I asked my grandma.
"Let's see. How did he put it again? Oh yes. 'Manny's aunt Mo not in the know,'" she said.
I frowned.
"Are you sure that's what he said?" I asked. Manny is a man of few words. Plus he has this weird habit of referring to himself
in third person. You know. Manny likes. Manny wants. Manny gets. Gulp.
"Not like a person's apt to get something like that wrong," Gram responded. "Mind translating?"
I chewed my meat with less enthusiasm. "It means your granddaughter is about to be so screwed," I replied.
"Oh, Tressa! I'm so happy!" Gram exclaimed. She put her fork down. "Wait a minute. Is Ranger Rick the lucky stud muffin, or
is Manny? I admit I never thought of you with Manny before, but come to think of it, he's no slouch. A little too dark and
mysterious for my taste, and big as a mountain, but I'm thinkin' that means he's loaded for bear!"
"Gram! I'm not talking about 'screwed' in the sexual sense," I said, scandalized, and Gram shook her head and picked up her
fork again.
"I mighta known," she complained. "So what are you talkin' about? What's this 'Aunt Mo not in the know' all about?"
The last thing I wanted to do was explain to Gram the whole situation. When it comes to spreading the word, she makes the
Internet seem like the pony express.
"Uh, I've just been helping Manny with a little ongoing secret surprise for his aunt is all," I told her. "And he was just
letting me know that she wasn't, uh, privy to our, uh, project yet," I said.
"So what's that got to do with you being screwed?" she asked.
My gammy gets a hold of something, you need wire cutters to disengage her.
"I just don't have the, uh, time right now to devote to the project," I explained, thinking I mainly didn't have the stamina
to pretend to be Manny's best girl. I'd bestowed a kiss on him several months back as part of the faux engagement--and because
he'd done something unexpectedly touching for me. Okay, so it probably involved some questionable tactics, but still, it's
the thought that counts, right? That unexpected act-- and the kiss that followed--had affected me more than I'd bargained
on. Manny DeMarco/Dishman was one supersized complication I didn't need in my life right now. Probably ever.
"I was attracted to a bad boy once," Gram remarked. "Johnny Devlin. Wore white T-shirts with his smokes folded up in one sleeve,
cigarette stuck behind his ear. Greased-back hair and denim jeans that rode low on lean hips. I knew he was trouble from the
moment I saw him."
"How, Gram? How?" I asked, thinking this was a talent that had bypassed me, but one that could come in very handy indeed.
"How? Why, he had it tattooed on his right bicep-- T-R-O-U-B-L-E."
"Good catch, Gram," I said. Checking the time I added, "I've got to head out. Just leave the dishes in the sink and I'll tend
to them when I get home," I told her, feeling guilty that she'd made the meal and was now stuck with the cleanup.
"Not to worry. Joe's coming over and he'll help," she said. "You know, it's kind of nice having a man around the house again.
'Course, your Paw Paw Will, God rest his soul, used to have his nose in the newspaper most of the time. Still, it's nice to
have someone around to share things with."
"I know, Gram," I said, reaching down to give her a kiss on one dry, perfumed cheek. I just wished she'd have picked someone
other than Ranger Rick's grandpappy.
"I shouldn't be too
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