Roz Fox - Sweet Tibby Mack

“Ladies, ladies, don’t get me wrong. I love all the services Tibby provides. Mack’s General Store has never been so well stocked. And who among us doesn’t appreciate the organic fruits and veggies that sweet girl grows? With more people moving here each year, Tibby’s newsletter is a blessing, too. But I ask you—what kind of social life does the poor girl have?”

“You’re right, Winnie,” chimed in Justine Banks. “Tibby hasn’t attended one of my watercolor classes this year. Claims she’s too busy.”

“Justine, I’m talking social life as in dating. As in getting married and having babies for us to spoil. My friends, our sweet Tibby is withering on the vine.”

“But Winnie…Ralph Hopple’s the only bachelor in Yaqui Springs,” Henrietta Feeny ventured timidly. “He’s sixty-five if he’s a day. Besides, do you think Tibby will want us meddling in that part of her life?”

Winnie leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Tibby mustn’t know. We have to find an acceptable single man between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-five and somehow entice him to settle in Yaqui Springs.”

“Who?” wailed Mabel. “And how?”

“Mabel, you sound like an owl,” Winnie snapped. “I didn’t say it would be easy. It will require a lot of thought and possibly some scouting. Let’s meet again one week from today. I’ll expect everyone to bring workable suggestions.”

Rosamond waved her hand. “Couldn’t Joe and the others take her golfing more often over to Bogey Wells? I hear the resort hired a new golf pro.”

“Yes!” Winnie clapped her hands to cut through the excitement that had erupted. “Joe plays there daily, as do Pete, George and Fred,” she said, speaking of their mates. “We’ll check out the new pro. Although he’s fortysomething, I think.”

“My dentist is younger,” piped up Henrietta. “Thirty-eight. Maybe he’d like to move his practice out here from Indio. He’s talked about slowing down.”

“See.” Winnie beamed. “Already we have prospects. One week from today we’ll meet here and study our options.”

“LADIES, COULD WE HAVE quiet, please? We’ve got a lot to discuss. I realize our one week ran into three, what with Yale O’Donnell’s funeral and all. If we hadn’t stepped in, the poor man wouldn’t have had a decent burial. His daughter-in-law only showed up to try and get her mitts on his fortune. I’m glad he just left her a token amount.”

Ariel snorted. “He left the bulk to his grandson. If you ask me, Cole’s no better than his mama. She, at least, attended the funeral.”

Winnie shushed the women, who’d begun to chatter among themselves. “Cole is out of the country. You know he designs resort golf courses. After Henrietta and Justine give us their reports, I’ll tell you what else I dug up on Cole O’Donnell.”

Teased by the promise of juicy gossip, Henrietta stood. “I made a special trip to my dentist. Tibby drove me. Scratch him from our list. On the way home I pumped her to see what she thought of him. You know how Tibby never says anything bad about a person?” Henrietta paused. “She said he was stodgy.”

“She’s Lara’s granddaughter all right.” Mabel smiled. “Tibby was twelve when she asked me what stodgy meant. It’s how Lara described Ralph Hopple.”

Justine exchanged places with Henrietta. “We’re in trouble, ladies. There’s only one bachelor registered at the resort in Bogey Wells. A forty-year-old bird-watcher from Connecticut. If there’s a term meaning beyond stodgy, he’s it. And forget their golf pro. Winnie and I agree he’s nothing but a Don Juan.”

“Oh, no.” Rosamond wrung her hands. “I have worse news. I saw Tibby poring over brochures for a nutritionist’s program they offer at San Diego State. You don’t suppose she’s thinking of leaving Yaqui Springs?”

“Wait” Winnie silenced the twitters. “Don’t you want to hear the rest of my news?” Her blue eyes sparkled as she produced a creased golf magazine from her back pocket. Quickly she thumbed it open to a dog-eared page and made a circuit of the group so all could see.

“He’s a dish,” someone murmured.

“A dreamboat. Who is he?” demanded another.

Winnie fairly smirked. “Don’t you recognize him? This, ladies, is a grown-up Cole O’Donnell.” Once all the whistles and you’re kidding’s tapered off, Winnie let the silence drag out until she had everyone’s attention. “According to the article he’s still single. If I remember correctly, he must be just over thirty.”

“I see it says he lives in Hollywood,” interjected Justine, who’d grabbed the magazine. “He’s not…funny, is he—well, you know what I mean?”

A ring of anxious faces turned to Winnie. “No. In the fine print it alludes to one of his aims being to start a family someday. Now, hush and let me get to the good part. You know how Joe and the others fuss, having to drive to Bogey Wells every day to play golf?” Seeing all the nods, she continued, “Last night at dinner, out of the blue Joe says, ‘It’s too bad young Cole O’Donnell doesn’t come to Yaqui Springs and build a golf course on all that land Yale left him.’“ Winnie paused to let that sink in. “Well, I said, calm as you please, ‘You’re head of our recreational-development committee, Joseph. Get up a petition on behalf of the residents’ association and send it to Cole.’”

Mabel jumped to her feet and clapped. “Winnie, you’re a genius! I always said old age and treachery will win over youth and skill any day. As I recall, our Tibby used to be quite smitten with that boy. Let’s all go sign Joe’s petition.”

“Tibby may have been enamored of Cole once, but ten years is a long time. Until we see how they get along, mum’s the word,” Winnie cautioned as the Moped matchmakers left the rec center.

TIBBY MACK smiled to herself as she loaded the last of the homemade baskets, each of them filled with bright spring blooms, into the back of her aged station wagon. She could almost feel her grandmother’s presence. Hanging May baskets on the front doorknobs of all the Yaqui Springs residents was a yearly event Lara Mack had lovingly observed. Though Gram had been gone nearly a year, Tibby knew that if the kindly old lady were ever to smile down from heaven, it would be on May Day.

Running late as usual, Tibby slammed the tailgate and hurried into the store to shed her gardening gloves. If no one caught her distributing baskets and stopped to chat, she might get back to open the store and coffee bar on time. Although she’d promised to feed Ariel Pulaski’s Afghan hounds for a few days, and they had to be worked in before she drove Mabel Sparks to the airport…

“Uh-oh. Looks like I didn’t move fast enough.” Clutching the Closed sign, Tibby tossed her thick braid over one shoulder as she watched a car leave the main highway and speed toward the general store. A racy sports car. She frowned. No one she knew drove anything remotely that upscale. Had it been a local, she would’ve given him a key, and trusted him to leave a list of what he took. As it was a stranger, she had no choice but to leave fast or chance letting the fragile blossoms wilt.

Flipping the sign to read Closed, she sprinted toward her vehicle.

The approaching stranger squealed his midnight blue Jaguar to a halt in front of Tibby and hopped out almost before the full-throated growl of the engine quit.

She froze, her breath trapped in her throat. The world tilted crazily. Not a stranger. Cole O’Donnell. Someone she’d steeled herself to see at Yale’s funeral—and then he hadn’t shown up. After she’d spent days foolishly worrying that she wouldn’t recognize him. Tibby would have known his thick acorn brown hair and beachboy tan at ten times the distance. But why was he here now? She automatically smoothed her wrinkled skirt and grappled for composure.