titled It’s Easy Being Green! “And if they end up in a landfill, I’m sure it’ll be a sustainable one,” she added with a wry smile. “Anyway, don’t knock the green Nazis. We’re going to need them if the Heywood Group has its way.” A vocal show of support from one of those organizations would force the bastards into the public eye, where they’d have to explain why one of the community’s last unspoiled stretches of coastline should make way for yet another bloated golf resort.
“It’d help, too, if your boyfriend got off his bee-hind,” declared Miss Honi.
Here we go again . Miss Honi seldom missed an opportunity to take a jab at Grant. Lindsay lowered an armful of books onto the table and turned to face her. “What makes you think he isn’t helping?”
Miss Honi snorted in derision. “Actions speak louder than words.”
“Well, you’ll be seeing him tonight, so you can tell him to his face.”
“Oh, what’s the occasion?” Miss Honi inquired idly.
Lindsay repositioned a book on its easel. “He’s throwing a party, and you’re invited. Remember, I told you about it last night.” Miss Honi must not have been fully awake at the time.
“A party?” Miss Honi perked up like an alley cat at the scent of chicken bones.
“It’s for his clients,” Lindsay went on. “They’re part of a coalition that’s trying to save some fish from extinction—the spiny-backed something or other. Grant’s been working overtime on the case.”
Miss Honi gave another snort. “Figures. The man don’t have the time of day for his two-legged brethren, but give it fins or fur and he’s all over it like a cheap suit.”
If Grant was circumspect when it came to expressing his feelings about Miss Honi, she had no compunction when it came to voicing her opinion of him. While she’d allow that he was “easy on the eyes” and “smart enough to give lawyers a good name,” she was convinced that Lindsay was wasting precious time waiting for him to marry her. “I know the type. You’ll always come in second with a man like that,” she’d say when pressed for an explanation. Lindsay always defended him, but the truth was, she had her own doubts. She and Grant had talked about moving in together, but Grant couldn’t see himself living with Lindsay and her elderly and somewhat disreputable housemate, and under no circumstances would Lindsay ever abandon Miss Honi. If they couldn’t agree on something as basic as that, she wasn’t going to hold her breath as far as marriage was concerned.
“Well, if that’s how you feel, I guess there’s no point in your going,” Lindsay said with feigned regret even as she smiled to herself, knowing what Miss Honi’s reaction would be. She was as transparent as a Frederick’s of Hollywood negligee. No one loved a party more than she. Once a performer, always a performer, even if it no longer involved taking off her clothes.
The glint in Miss Honi’s eyes gave her away even as her chin tipped up, setting her saucer-sized hoop earrings wagging. “Did I say that? Lord, can’t a girl catch her breath without you putting words in her mouth? You tell him I’ll think about it.”
“Well, don’t take too long.”
After pretending to give it some thought, Miss Honi relented with a noisy exhalation. “What the hell. Count me in. It ain’t like I got something better to do.” Her expression turned briefly wistful, as if she were thinking about her most recent boyfriend. They’d been going hot and heavy for a while—even at the age of eighty, Miss Honi was nowhere near ready to “pack it in”—until, sadly, Charlie had dropped dead of a coronary one night while bowling with his friends. That had been six months ago, and Miss Honi hadn’t yet taken up with anyone new. “You sure he won’t mind my tagging along?” she asked.
“Of course not. He made a point of asking me to invite you,” Lindsay fibbed. A little white lie wouldn’t hurt, would it?
“It’d help, too, if your boyfriend got off his bee-hind,” declared Miss Honi.
Here we go again . Miss Honi seldom missed an opportunity to take a jab at Grant. Lindsay lowered an armful of books onto the table and turned to face her. “What makes you think he isn’t helping?”
Miss Honi snorted in derision. “Actions speak louder than words.”
“Well, you’ll be seeing him tonight, so you can tell him to his face.”
“Oh, what’s the occasion?” Miss Honi inquired idly.
Lindsay repositioned a book on its easel. “He’s throwing a party, and you’re invited. Remember, I told you about it last night.” Miss Honi must not have been fully awake at the time.
“A party?” Miss Honi perked up like an alley cat at the scent of chicken bones.
“It’s for his clients,” Lindsay went on. “They’re part of a coalition that’s trying to save some fish from extinction—the spiny-backed something or other. Grant’s been working overtime on the case.”
Miss Honi gave another snort. “Figures. The man don’t have the time of day for his two-legged brethren, but give it fins or fur and he’s all over it like a cheap suit.”
If Grant was circumspect when it came to expressing his feelings about Miss Honi, she had no compunction when it came to voicing her opinion of him. While she’d allow that he was “easy on the eyes” and “smart enough to give lawyers a good name,” she was convinced that Lindsay was wasting precious time waiting for him to marry her. “I know the type. You’ll always come in second with a man like that,” she’d say when pressed for an explanation. Lindsay always defended him, but the truth was, she had her own doubts. She and Grant had talked about moving in together, but Grant couldn’t see himself living with Lindsay and her elderly and somewhat disreputable housemate, and under no circumstances would Lindsay ever abandon Miss Honi. If they couldn’t agree on something as basic as that, she wasn’t going to hold her breath as far as marriage was concerned.
“Well, if that’s how you feel, I guess there’s no point in your going,” Lindsay said with feigned regret even as she smiled to herself, knowing what Miss Honi’s reaction would be. She was as transparent as a Frederick’s of Hollywood negligee. No one loved a party more than she. Once a performer, always a performer, even if it no longer involved taking off her clothes.
The glint in Miss Honi’s eyes gave her away even as her chin tipped up, setting her saucer-sized hoop earrings wagging. “Did I say that? Lord, can’t a girl catch her breath without you putting words in her mouth? You tell him I’ll think about it.”
“Well, don’t take too long.”
After pretending to give it some thought, Miss Honi relented with a noisy exhalation. “What the hell. Count me in. It ain’t like I got something better to do.” Her expression turned briefly wistful, as if she were thinking about her most recent boyfriend. They’d been going hot and heavy for a while—even at the age of eighty, Miss Honi was nowhere near ready to “pack it in”—until, sadly, Charlie had dropped dead of a coronary one night while bowling with his friends. That had been six months ago, and Miss Honi hadn’t yet taken up with anyone new. “You sure he won’t mind my tagging along?” she asked.
“Of course not. He made a point of asking me to invite you,” Lindsay fibbed. A little white lie wouldn’t hurt, would it?
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