That was mostly a lie, however. She had a handful of gentleman friends with whom she enjoyed certain platonic activities—going out to a movie, having dinner, attending a play, for example—but none with whom she was intimate and would invite to stay overnight. After her husband’s death ten years ago, dating had become difficult. Most of the men she encountered in her age group wanted a woman to serve as the equivalent as a live-in nurse, or they were seeking financial support to bolster their inadequately planned retirements. Pat had no intentions of taking care of anyone, physically, financially, or otherwise. She’d already raised her children.

She didn’t know why Grace believed her romantic life was any of her business, or, more concerning, why she wanted to impress Grace in the first place. Maybe she envied Grace; she doubted Grace experienced the same challenges with men. With Grace’s youthful looks and panache, Pat was certain she could have enticed men half her age.

“Every woman needs a friend . . . or three.” Grace laughed lightly.

“That’s right,” Pat said.

“This is for you.” Grace placed the gift on the coffee table. She eased onto the sofa and crossed her legs. “I realize that we had a rocky start to our friendship. Consider this a peace offering, my dear.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Pat said. “Thank you.”

“Please, open it.”

Pat stripped away the wrapping paper to expose a plain cardboard box. Opening the box revealed three small, black glass jars with lids. A handwritten label, each in elegant script, was affixed to each jar: one read Facial Rejuvenator in elegant script; the other read Body Butter; the last, Lovely Hands. All of them had “by Grace” underneath the description, as if they were products in her personal cosmetics line.

Pat twisted off the lid of the facial rejuvenator. The jar contained a creamy substance the color of cappuccino; it smelled of peppermint, lavender, and traces of other fragrances she couldn’t identify, but the overall aroma was appealing.

“Facial cream?” Pat asked.

“Indeed. I blend it myself, and use it myself, on a daily basis, and have done so for many years.” Grace smiled. “Tell the truth, dear. Do I look like a woman nearing sixty to you?”

“Absolutely not.” Pat laughed. “I was wondering what your secrets were.”

“I drink plenty of filtered water and enjoy a very energetic sex life, but the factors I value most highly are the creams that I’m now sharing with you.”

Pat dipped her index finger into the jar, dabbed the substance on her cheek. It was cool, smooth, and tingled deliciously on her skin.

“This feels wonderful,” Pat said.

Grace nodded. “A tiny amount of these creams, applied twice a day, morning and evening, will do the trick. The hand lotion you can apply whenever you like. Carry it in your purse, perhaps. All of them are quite potent.”