“Well, my goodness. Who would have guessed? Zachary a gambling man. Wait until I tell Max. How did you know where to go?”

“I followed him. Amelia and I parked behind some bushes, sneaked up to the house, and peeked in a window.”

Hannah covered her mouth with her hands. “My Lord, Grace, what if you’d been seen? What if a police car had driven by and seen you?”

“Well, none did. And now you know.” She handed Hannah a folded piece of paper. “Here’s the address. Do what you want with it.”

“And you went with Amelia.”

“Yes. You weren’t around when Anna called to say he was leaving, and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Hannah studied the address. “Well, I’ll be darned. Zachary gambling.” She slapped her palms against her knees. “Well, that’s not as bad as I suspected. I thought much worse of him. Thanks, Grace. I’ll tell Max, and he can do what he wants about it.”

9

Rivalries

Years earlier, when the ladies committed to sharing a home and to being there for one another as they grew older, they had done so in good faith. But now, Grace worried that these intentions were eroding because of the bickering between Hannah and Amelia, too often expressed in sharp words, snide remarks, and withering looks. Why, she wondered, couldn’t Hannah smile rather than scowl at Amelia’s flippancy? And why couldn’t Amelia accept the fact that Hannah took things too seriously at times, and not crack jokes at those moments when Hannah’s mouth tightened and her eyes clouded with displeasure? Lately Grace felt caught in the middle, and she was determined not to take sides.

“I don’t know why you don’t read them the riot act,” Bob said as they raised their arms to spread the voluminous sheet across his king-size bed. “You gals have been together for years. You’ve weathered some pretty major things. You’d think the personality kinks would be worked out by now, or Amelia and Hannah might be more tolerant of one another.”

The sheet lay flat on the bed now, and they began to tuck it in. “You’re improving at turning under the corners just right. You want the bedspread on?”

“I think not. It’s heavy to handle, and too hot to use.”

Grace fluffed his pillows and set them against the headboard. “If you’d gotten a queen-size bed, like I suggested, you could make it up by yourself.”

“What, and miss the pleasure of domesticity from this king-size bed? When we make it up, I think of us as an old married couple, don’t you?”

“You never give up, do you, old man?” She laughed and kissed him, and they walked into the living room.