“Murph never was one to have girls around,” Ruby chimes in with a tense smirk.

“No matter how hard I tried to match him up,” Hazel adds.

“Don’t remind me,” I mutter over my dinner plate.

Hazel is not about to shy away from the obvious so she immediately starts teasing us about going out with each other, which only makes the rest of us hide the tension with our laughter.

“Oh, I have a great idea,” Hazel announces, leaving her untouched soup to grow cold as she gets up to retrieve yet another piece of mail from the pile on the buffet. “You should take Savannah to the gala this weekend.”

“The what?” I ask, hoping this is a joke.

“Every summer, the board of trustees holds a gala event at the harbor golf resort. It’s a real uppity blowhard’s event, and it’s all about the who’s who in Wickett. The best part is the free booze, but I won’t be going this year, for obvious reasons, but Murph, I could send you in my place. Really put those dickheads in their place. Show them who you’re representing, and maybe they’ll lay off with the shop.”

A loud laugh escapes my lips. She must be kidding. “You really think you have that much sway with the board, Hazel?”

She levels her stare on me. “I’ve got more than you think,” she says and I shut up.

Savannah fidgets in her seat, like the conversation has finally gotten too awkward for her.

“Take Savannah,” Hazel says suddenly.

“Oh, no,” the girl answers immediately.

“Absolutely,” Ruby chimes in from the seat next to me. “You two would love a nice evening out. And if she doesn’t want to go, Murph, you can take me.”

The table lets out a low chuckle, and I help Ruby clear the plates. When Savannah follows me to the kitchen, I notice the way she’s watching me. We get caught in a doorway together, her bumping her backside against my legs, and the electricity that ignites is like an electric shock.

The thought stealing all of my attention is the notion that the gala idea isn’t half bad. Not taking Savannah, of course, but going in Hazel’s place. It’s about time I show these guys that I’m not beneath them. They won’t take my shop away, and I certainly won’t go down without a fight.

When we deliver the chocolate cheesecake dessert to Hazel, we all walk into the dining room to find her nodding off in her chair, sitting straight up. The women move toward her as if this isn’t out of the ordinary at all, but I freeze in place, noticing that her soup remains untouched.

“When did she stop eating?” I ask Ruby, who carefully picks up the bowl and carries it past me to the kitchen.

“She was picking at her breakfast this morning,” she answers without looking at me.

“But that was it today,” Savannah adds, watching me carefully.

“The meds make her so sleepy.” Ruby takes Hazel by the arm and helps her slowly to her bedroom. The old woman grimaces as she shuffles past us, not even registering that we’re there.