Phyllis Bourne - Every Road to You

“You have a similar dress, don’t you?” Ethan asked his grandmother.

“Not anymore,” she replied. “I donated it, and every dress in my closet that looked like it, to the church clothing drive. Why? Considering instituting a dress code here at Shawshank?”

Ethan sighed. “I’m merely checking on you.”

“Humph,” she grunted. “More like checking up on me.”

“After the other night, can you blame me?”

“Well, you can relax. After I finish tending my flowers, Alice and I are going to make popcorn and watch a DVD.”

Alice frowned. “But what about the motorcycle...” she began.

His grandmother turned to Ethan. “We’re watching Easy Rider,” she said by way of explanation.

Ethan shoved his hands into his pants pockets. There was no way to bring up the topic of Tia casually. He might as well just come out with it.

“Have you talked to your friend Tia, from the spa, lately?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. She’s invited me out for breakfast tomorrow.”

Ethan felt some of his unease ebb. It appeared Tia had taken the matter as seriously as he’d hoped and was indeed on the case. Maybe he’d be able to relax and enjoy his vacation after all.

His grandmother raised a suspicious brow. “Why?”

Ethan shrugged and diverted his eyes.

“I hope you didn’t track her down and bully her into it,” his grandmother said sternly.

“We just had a chat.”

“Oh, Ethan, you’re becoming more like your grandfather every day.” She rolled her eyes. “Bless his heart. He’s no doubt in heaven right now exasperating the good Lord with his bossy ways.”

“I’m not bossy. It’s just all these sudden changes since your spa visit. I’m worried about you.”

His grandmother groaned. “I swear, I wish you’d get back together with Britney or Tiffany or whichever one of your dull, fill-in-the-blanks girlfriends you were supposed to take on this vacation with you.”

“Heather?” Ethan asked, slightly taken aback. “But you said she was all wrong for me.”

“The women you go out with usually are. They’re like those obedient, bland robots on that old movie we watched last night.” She turned to Alice. “What was the name of it again?”

“The Stepford Wives?” Alice asked, unsure of her memory.

“That’s it,” his grandmother confirmed. “‘Yes, Ethan.’ ‘Great, Ethan.’ ‘Whatever Ethan thinks is best.’ ‘I’d better ask Ethan,’” she mimicked before she and Alice burst into a fit of laughter.

There was nothing wrong with dating an agreeable woman, Ethan thought, but he didn’t bother pointing that out to his grandmother.

However, with Heather, sweet and easygoing had morphed into pushy and demanding once she discovered their relationship wasn’t moving any closer to marriage, motherhood and a suburban mini mansion.

Finally, the cackling subsided, and his grandmother turned her attention back to him.

“At least those bubbleheads kept you occupied. You didn’t have so much time to stick your nose in my business.” She brandished her index finger in the vicinity of his chest. “Go talk to the last one. Maybe y’all can kiss and make up before your flight in the morning. You’ll have a life of your own again, and then you can stop riding my ass, and—”

“Grandma!” he cut her off. This had to be more of Tia’s handiwork, he thought, because his grandmother had rarely sworn before her mess of a makeover.

Alice covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Ethan captured the hand of his grandmother’s wagging finger with his own and kissed it. “You know full well why I worry.”

She patted his cheek. “As you can see, I’m fine now.”

Ethan watched her check her wristwatch on what she thought was the sly. What was she up to now?

“I’ll be out with Tia in the morning, so I won’t see you before you leave,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “Give me a hug now, and enjoy your vacation. Think about giving what’s-her-name a call.”

As Ethan hugged his grandma, he made a mental note to change his morning flight to one leaving tomorrow evening.

His grandmother was up to something—and until he was assured she was back on track, he wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

Tia smiled when she saw Carol walk through the restaurant entrance the following morning.

Although her friend’s grandson had been the impetus behind asking her to breakfast, Tia looked forward to chatting with the woman who’d helped her get through the most difficult period of her life.

After yesterday’s blowup with her dad over Espresso’s financial woes, she was especially glad to meet with her.

The two women greeted each other with a hug, and Tia was gratified to once again see the expertise of the spa’s staff in action.

Carol had done an excellent job of re-creating her new look on her own. She’d applied her makeup with near-expert finesse and even customized the pixie haircut they’d given her with a few gelled spikes. She wore a denim skirt, a black T-shirt emblazoned with the name of a sixties band and a pair of wedge sandals.

Tia glanced down at her own linen-blend shift dress. It had seemed chic and summery when she’d donned it this morning, but now it felt positively frumpy.

She echoed Carol’s order of the restaurant’s breakfast specialty, sweet-potato pancakes, to the busy waitress and studied her friend across the red checkerboard tablecloth.

There was something different about Carol, she observed as the waitress returned with their drinks, and it had nothing to do with her makeover.

“This is a nice treat,” Tia said. “Usually, breakfast for me is a bowl of instant oatmeal eaten over the kitchen sink before rushing off to work.”

“Hmm,” Carol said.

“So how’s it going?” Tia blew on her hot tea and took a tiny sip. “We haven’t had a chance to talk since your big makeover.”

Carol tore open a packet of sugar substitute and slowly stirred it into her coffee. “You can stop with the small talk. I already know my grandson put you up to this.”

“He came to my office yesterday,” Tia said, not bothering to deny it.

“More like pushed his way in.”

Tia lifted a brow. “How’d you know?”

“I raised him,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s a fine man, but he also inherited his late grandfather’s bossy streak, and it’s currently driving me bonkers.”

So that was where he got it. Tia remembered the way Ethan strode into her office looking like Prince Charming but acting like Attila the Hun.

Still, a part of her understood his point.

“He’s worried,” Tia said. “And although it’s none of my business, I was concerned myself when he mentioned having to pick you up from jail.”

“Oh, that.” Carol waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It wasn’t a big deal. Ethan blew it all out of proportion. You’d think I was a bank robber.”

“Then you weren’t arrested?”

The waitress returned with two plates piled high with pancakes and bacon and a decanter of maple syrup. “Anything else, ladies?” she asked.

“We’re good,” Tia said with a smile, eager to hear what had actually gone down.

Carol soaked her pancakes with syrup before cutting into them with her fork and taking a huge bite. Tia waited as she chewed and swallowed, but after her friend went in for a third bite, she couldn’t wait any longer.

“So what really happened?” Tia squirmed in her chair, her initial concern having morphed into downright nosiness.

Carol put down her fork. She glanced from side to side in a conspiratorial fashion before leaning in. “Well, I went to a party.”

“Oh.” Tia shoulders slumped and she took her first bite of her own pancakes.