A long time ago, Della had liked her eyes, too. They were a pale, crystalline blue, with jade flecks and a dark circle ringing the iris, enhancing the color. Now all she saw when she looked at her eyes were her life experiences reflecting back at her, so she tried not to look too hard. Other people saw it, too, she knew. Like Arlo.

Her brother had taken the news of her joining Tinder much better than Della had expected. He’d been concerned about the kind of guy that she might find on the app and had given her the talk. The one she knew he always dreaded giving the local high school students about the perils and pitfalls of social media.

He’d clearly been uncomfortable with the subject matter, but he’d soldiered on, which she’d found adorable. Underneath his stern cop facade, Arlo really was a sweet guy. And she was so lucky he’d come into her life. She’d never had a male role model worth a damn until Arlo.

She just hoped he’d be as reasonable on Friday, because Cody had asked her to dine with him at his favorite Italian restaurant, and Della hadn’t hesitated in accepting.

Rosemary took the phone and swiped over the images, quite adept at the technology for someone in their eighties. “I like skiing, pasta, the Broncos, and the stars at night,” she read off his bio. She smiled at the screen, and then she frowned a little. “Is this Tinder?”

Della’s cheeks heated again. She knew a lot of the older generation didn’t understand this modern approach to dating. Didn’t approve of it, either. “It is,” Della confirmed tentatively.

“Oh goody,” she proclaimed with a little bounce on the mattress. “I’ve been dying to know how it works. Do you think you could show me? You have to swipe right, isn’t that it?”

Della blinked, and then she laughed. She should have known nothing would faze Rosemary Forbes. She’d apparently grown up in enormous wealth and privilege in New York but had been cut off from all of it when she’d had the audacity to fall in love with a strapping young ranch hand from Kansas. He’d been prepared to let her go, Rosemary said, but she’d been adamant he was the one and refused to give up her man.

It seemed Trace Adkins was right—ladies did indeed love country boys.

“Only if you want to make a match. Here.” She reached for the phone. “Let me show you.”

Navigating back to the main page, Della showed Rosemary the potential matches that came up on the screen. She showed her how to check out their profile and other pics they’d posted and how to either swipe left or right or use the cross or heart buttons on the bottom of the screen.