Carolina Moon

woman to be gray, Iris liked to say, he wouldn’t have invented Miss Clairol. She took care of herself, and pampered her looks.
    Which, she thought now, was more than she could say about her granddaughter.
    “You sit down right here. I’m going to fix you some breakfast.”
    “Don’t trouble, Gran.”
    “You know better than to argue with me, don’t you? Now, sit.” She pointed to a chair at the little ice cream parlor table. “Oh, look at these. Aren’t they pretty!” She swept up the tulips, her delight in them sparkling in her eyes. “You’re the sweetest thing, my Tory.”
    “I’ve missed you, Gran. I’m sorry I haven’t visited.”
    “You’ve got your own life, which is what I always wanted for you. Now, you just relax and when you’ve got your feet back under you, you can tell me all about your trip.”
    “It was worth every mile. I found some wonderful pieces.”
    “Got my eye for pretty things.” She winked, turning just in time to see her granddaughter gape at the man who had stepped into the kitchen doorway.
    He was tall as an oak with a chest wide as a Buick. His grizzled hank of hair was the color and texture of steel wool. His eyes were the burnished brown of acorns and drooped like a basset hound’s. His leathered face was tanned to match. He cleared his throat with an exaggerated flourish, then nodded at Tory.
    “Morning,” he began in an upcountry drawl. “Ah… Miz Mooney, I got that drain cleared for you.”
    “Cecil, stop being a moron, you don’t even have your toolbox with you.” Iris set aside a carton of eggs. “No need to blush,” she told him. “My granddaughter’s not going to faint at the notion her grandma’s got herself a beau. Tory, this is Cecil Axton, the reason I’m not dressed at ten this morning.”
    “Iris.” The blush rose up to his cheeks like fire under cordwood. “I’m pleased to meet you, Tory. Your gran’s been looking forward to seeing you.”
    “How do you do,” Tory said, for lack of something more clever. She offered a hand, and because she was still dazed, and Cecil’s feelings were so close to the surface, she had a quick and blurred image of just what had made her grandmother giggle behind the bedroom door.
    She shut it off fast as her eyes met Cecil’s with mutual mortification. “You’re … you’re a plumber, Mr. Axton?”
    “He came to fix my water heater,” Iris put in, “and’s been keeping me warm ever since.”
    “Iris.” Cecil ducked his head, hunched the twin mountains of his shoulders, but couldn’t quite hide the grin. “I gotta get on. Hope you enjoy your visit, Tory.”
    “Don’t you think about running off without kissing me good-bye.” To solve the matter, Iris crossed to him, took his weathered face between her hands to pull it down to her level, and kissed him firm on the mouth. “There now, lightning did not strike, thunder did not roll, and the child here did not collapse in shock.” She kissed him again, then patted his cheek. “You go on, handsome, and have a good day.”
    “I guess I’ll, um, see you later on.”
    “You’d better. We decided on this, Cecil. Now, you scat. I’ll talk to Tory.”
    “I’m going.” With a hesitant smile, he turned to Tory. “You can argue with this woman, but it just gives you a headache.” He took a faded blue gimme cap from a kitchen peg, set it on his wiry hair, and hurried out.
    “Isn’t he the cutest thing? I got some nice lean bacon here. How do you want your eggs?”
    “In chocolate chip cookies. Gran.” Tory drew a careful breath and rose. “It’s absolutely none of my business, but…”
    “Of course it’s not your business, unless I invite you into it, which I have.” Iris laid bacon in the old black spider skillet to sizzle. “I’m going to be very disappointed in you, Tory, if you’re shocked and appalled by the idea of your grandmother having a sex life.”
    Tory winced, but managed to compose her face when Iris turned toward her. “Not shocked, not appalled, but certainly a little disconcerted. The idea of coming here this morning and nearly walking in on … hmmm.”
    “Well, you were early, honey-pot. I’m going to fry these eggs, and we’re both going to indulge in a nice, greasy midmorning breakfast.”
    “I guess you worked up an appetite.”
    Iris blinked, then threw back her head and laughed. “Now, that’s my girl. You worry me, sugar plum, when you don’t smile.”
    “What have I got to smile about?