I don’t understand the reference, but Rosie laughs uproariously. My heart fills with joy. It’s rare that you get to watch a friendship bloom between two people right before your eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Don so charismatic, or Rosie so carefree.
“Where have you been hiding this treasure, Maren?” she asks, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. “He’s an absolute riot.”
We’re the only ones still talking when the choir director steps forward, pointedly clearing her throat into the microphone before introducing the children.
Giggling like preteens who’ve just been reprimanded, we sneak into the back row and squeeze onto a sofa. The music is lovely, even when the kids forget the words to a shortened version of “Let It Be” by The Beatles. When they start their third and final song, I have to nudge Don gently with my elbow to keep him from interrupting the singing with another quip to Rosie. He shoots me a look of mild disdain. I smile and give him a wink before nodding my head toward Rosie.
“One more song, okay? Then you can get back to flirting.”
“Who me?” he asks, but the smirk on his lips is impossible to miss.
The students’ version of “Ave Maria” is a bit pitchy, but none of the residents seem to mind in the slightest. I hear a sniffle to my right and turn to find Rosie tearing up at the final notes. When the applause begins, she shoots off the sofa, hooting and hollering for an encore. While a handful of our more reserved residents appear rattled by the outburst, the excitement dominoes down the rows until nearly the whole room is chanting for more. The poor choir director looks flustered, fumbling through her folder of music.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts into the mic. “That’s all the music we’ve prepared.”
“Do you know ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’?” Don calls out.
The kids nod emphatically, and one shouts, “Duh!”
“Yes!” Rosie cries, clasping her hands over her heart. “Please sing for us, little stars.”
I’m pretty dumbfounded myself, but I have to admit that these two seem like peas in a pod. When the choir director leads a shaky-at-best rendition of the nursery rhyme classic, Don and Rosie share a triumphant smile. For the first time in my life, I’m honored to be a third wheel.
Neither Rosie nor Don are as interested in bingo as they are in each other, so I let them wander into the courtyard together, chatting up a storm. When my phone rings at a quarter till eleven, my heart skips a beat at the name lighting up my screen.
Hayes.
“Hey,” I say, running a hand through my hair.
“Hey, dove.” His low voice sounds yummy over the phone, like warm melted honey. “I’m about to leave to pick up Rosie, but she isn’t answering her cell. Is everything okay?”
I chuckle, peeking out the window to see Don belly-laughing at one of Rosie’s snarky comments. “Everything is totally fine. She’s just distracted.”
“Pretty heated game of bingo, huh?”
“Actually, she’s really hit it off with one of the residents. They’re taking a walk in the courtyard right now, and they’ll be grabbing lunch together in the cafeteria in a bit.”
“Oh God.” Hayes sighs. “Don’t let Rosie bore her friend with tales of her quilting adventures.”
“From the looks of it, Don is hanging on to every word.” There’s a long pause on the other end. “Hayes, you still there?”
“Yeah, yeah. Is that Dawn, as in A-W-N—or Don, as in O-N.”
“D-O-N. He happens to be my favorite resident. It’s really sweet—they’ve become fast friends.”
Another pause.
“Huh.” Hayes’s voice sounds strangled.
What could be bothering him? It isn’t like Hayes to be so curt with me.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Rosie hasn’t gone on a date in like sixty years, Mare.”
I laugh, relieved that he’s just weirded out by the situation and not upset at me for letting his grandmother off the leash. “Then maybe it’s time she get back in the saddle.”
“Oh God, no mention of saddles,” he says with a groan. “My grandmother won’t be riding anyone or anything.”
I chuckle and murmur an apology. “Bad analogy. My bad.”
Hayes grumbles something softly. I can’t tell if he’s actually agitated about her meeting Don, or just thrown off by this news.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I say with a smile.
“I guess,” he mumbles. After another awkward silence, he adds, “I’ll swing by around one, then. Does that work for you and D-O-N Don?”
Oh my God, he’s really irked by this! I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from poking any more fun. “Of course. See you soon.”
“Yep,” Hayes grumbles.
I pocket my phone, beaming from ear to ear. Outside in the courtyard, Don and Rosie are seated closely together on a bench in deep conversation, serious expressions on their faces. Rosie places one hand on Don’s, a gesture of compassion.
This is going to be awesome.
When Hayes arrives, I meet him at the front door and escort him to the cafeteria, where Don and Rosie are huddled together at a small table, thick as thieves. Hayes freezes at the sight, so I give him a soft pat on the shoulder before pulling over two chairs to join them.
“Hello, Don. I’m Rosie’s grandson. It’s nice to meet you,” Hayes says stiffly, offering his hand to Don like a robot might.
Don accepts the handshake, his expression stoic save for the signature sparkle in his stormy blue eyes. “No formalities necessary, Hayes. Your grandmother has spoken of you and only you for the past three hours, so I feel like I already know you.”
Rosie giggles, swatting Don on the arm. “Oh, stop it. As if you didn’t show me a whole photo album’s worth of your students’ graduation pictures.”
“Only because you asked,” he says with a wink.
From the way she melts, I can tell that Rosie is absolutely smitten.
“I’m impressed,” I say. “Don is a man of mystery. For the longest time, I didn’t even know if he spoke.”
“You’re new here, kid,” he mumbles with
