Sharon Love Cook - Granite Cove 01 - A Nose for Hanky Panky by Sharon Love Cook Page B

type people call big boned.
    She stopped a few feet from my car and said, “Be honest, Rose, do these shoes look too slutty for a wake?”
    I studied the open-toed, high-heeled sandals and the lavender toenails. “Absolutely, which is why you should wear them.”
    She climbed into the front seat. “Good. I wear sneakers all day at work. My feet have to breathe sometime.”
    “Ladies, guys don’t look at feet,” Tiny said.
    “Tiny, we’re going to a wake, not a bar. I just want to look appropriate.” She smoothed her dress over her knees.
    He leaned into the window and kissed her, a long kiss. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “You look better than appropriate, Babe. You look hot. Now behave yourself tonight.”
    I laughed and drove away, glancing at the rear view mirror. Tiny stood watching us while Jonah was still kicking the bushes. “Tiny acts like a newlywed. He’s crazy about you.”
    “I’m crazy about him, too. Unfortunately, having Jonah in the house has put a strain on our relationship.”
    “How much longer will he be with you?”
    “We’ll know more after the results of Judy’s tests are in.”
    “She’ll probably be discharged soon. Insurance companies don’t pay for lengthy rehabs anymore.”
    “It’s not just drug rehab, it’s her back injury. That’s how she became addicted to pain pills. She ruptured a disc moving a computer at work. They’re saying that after rehab, she might need back surgery.” Betty Ann let out a sigh. “Such is my life.”
    “Is Jonah getting… any better?”
    “The kid’s a classic manipulator. He’s got Tiny feeling sorry for him. Last night, for instance, we were in bed. Finally, we were alone. As we were getting cozy, there was a strange noise outside the door. It sounded like a sick warthog.
    “Tiny got up and opened the door. Guess what? It was Jonah curled up on the floor and blubbering that he was scared, he wanted daddy to come in his room ’til he fell asleep.” She stopped and began to rifle through her oversized pocketbook.
    “So? What happened?”
    “So Tiny and Jonah went off down the hall, hand in hand. The little weasel turned and gave me a triumphant look. I would have slapped his face, had he been close. I should have flipped him the bird. He’s turning me into a first class bitch.”
    “Not you,” I said. “I don’t believe it.”
    “Believe it. All day at work I deal with Alzheimer patients. It’s insane. Yesterday, Mrs. Smedlie threw a box of Depends at the nun who comes in to say the rosary. Twenty minutes later someone drove a wheelchair over Mr. Manucci’s catheter tube. Urine was squirting all over the place.
    “Things like that I can handle. Yet I’m totally incapable of dealing with a thirteen-year-old. Call me paranoid, but that kid is out to wreck my marriage. He’s evil.”
    “Have you talked to Tiny about how you feel?”
    “Tiny feels guilty for not playing a bigger role in Jonah’s life. He thinks his son is an innocent victim of Judy’s bad mothering.”
    As she talked, Betty Ann continued to grope inside her pocketbook. Finally, I said, “What in the world are you looking for?”
    “My nicotine gum. I think I left it at home, and I won’t survive the night without it.”
    “B.A., you’re quitting smoking? That’s terrific.”
    She turned to me, grim faced. “I’m trying to quit because I can’t smoke in the house anymore. It’s little Jonah. He can’t be exposed to secondhand smoke.”
    I patted her hand. “Things will work out. Tiny loves you.”
    “I know he does, but sometimes love just isn’t enough.”
    Dear Auntie Pearl:
    Occasionally, I stay overnight with my mother, who lives in a senior retirement community. One night, when I got up to use the bathroom, I heard strange noises coming from her bedroom. When I checked, I found Mother’s fourteen-year-old cat drinking from the glass that holds her dentures.
    The next morning, when I informed Mother, she wasn’t the least bit