I was starting to think they had too much outdoor space here.
And charged way too much for a room.
“What are old people going to do with ducks?”
“Dress them up and parade them around town on a yearly basis in The Great White Peak Duck Festival,” Mabel said from behind us.
“The Great White Peak Duck Festival? That’s not a thing,” I said.
“It’s about to be, child.” She hobbled over on the arm of Grandpa Randy and stopped next to us. “Those are some ugly ducks.”
“They’re ducks,” Saylor deadpanned. “What were you expecting, Grams? Peacocks with vibrant tails? Pure white doves? A parrot?”
“I was expecting pretty ducks.”
“Ducks are ducks,” Grandpa said. “They’re not swans, Mabel.”
“Then I want to speak to the manager.”
Saylor stared at her. “The manager is bored of your complaining. Why can’t you just appreciate the pretty pond?”
Mabel straightened as much as she was able to. “Because the ducks are ugly, Saylor Elizabeth, and I can’t parade ugly ducks around the town. Besides, why do I want to look at ugly ducks?”
“You look in the mirror every day,” Agatha said, approaching us from the other direction. “You tell us.”
Wonderful.
We were about to have us a good old-fashioned elderly throwdown.
I liked it better when it snowed. They all stayed inside. And I didn’t really like snow at all, so that said a lot.
I know.
I was so living in the wrong state.
“They’re not that ugly,” I said slowly, eyeing the ducks. “They’re really quite pretty, if you look at them with a slightly tilted head.”
Saylor did that. “They still look like a cross between a platypus and a chicken to me.”
Weird.
Also, kind of accurate.
“I like them,” Agatha said, bending over as much as she was able to look at them. “They have character.”
“So do you, but your character is awful,” Mabel said.
Grandpa rolled his eyes. “Quit bitching at each other.”
I snorted. There was always something amusing about my grandfather swearing—especially when he did it in front of my parents because it drove my mom insane.
Naturally, those were the best family meals.
Thankfully for Grandpa, my parents had moved an hour away a few years ago, so family dinners where he had to censor himself were few and far between.
I, however, fully welcomed his salty mouth when we had dinner, and everywhere else in between.
“I like the ducks,” Agatha announced once again.
“Well, thank goodness that was cleared up,” Saylor muttered. “We were all wondering.”
Agatha shot her a dark look. “When are we letting them out?”
“When Amanda gets here,” Grandpa said. “She’s in charge of the ducks.”
Agatha wrinkled up her leathery face. “I don’t like Amanda.”
“I doubt she likes you,” Mabel shot back. “Nobody else does.”
I pretended not to notice Agatha’s double middle finger salute to Mabel and turned to Grandpa. “Amanda? Who’s that?”
“New nurse,” he replied, letting Mabel drift over to the ducks to continue bickering with Agatha. He slowly lowered himself down onto the bench. “You know her. You went to school together.”
I shared a look with Saylor.
“Amanda Donoho,” Grandpa said. “Can’t remember her maiden name, but she’s a little older than you are.”
Saylor frowned. “Wait, you mean Amanda who moved away a few years ago?”
He nodded.
“Oh,” I said brightly. “She’s got three kids now, right? When did she get back?”
“Six months ago. Her grandma died and left her the house since she was the only grandkid, and she said her kids weren’t getting on in Dayton so they came back. Only been back a few weeks. Her husband is commuting until his office in Bozeman is set up.”
Made sense. I understood she’d moved for her husband’s job, but most people in town had always wondered when she’d come back.
Not if, when.
It was an occupational hazard of living in a small town.
Everyone was up each other’s asses all the time.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, stayed a secret. At least not for very long.
It was slightly cumbersome.
We all jerked around as the sound of Ivy and Holley’s grandma’s voice carried across the gardens. Rosie was being placated by another familiar voice I knew was Amanda’s, and they rounded the bushes to join us just as Agatha bristled.
“Oh, good,” Rosie drawled, her lip curling as if she’d smelled a dead body. “The cats dragged in their prey.”
Saylor dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Yes,” Agatha said, looking her up and down. “They did.”
How on Earth those two had birthed daughters who were best friends, I’d never know. Much less how that had continued on down to their granddaughters, Ivy and Tori, who’d been inseparable their whole lives.
Even now that she was pregnant, I think Ivy spent as much time with Tori as she did Kai—but that was probably because Tori didn’t tell Kai just how much ice cream Ivy was eating.
Mind you, I think she was playing them off against one another.
She was nothing if not resourceful.
“Shall we go?” I whispered to Saylor. “I don’t really care about the ducks, and I’m not in the mood for a pensioner bitch fest.”
“Yeah, we really need to get back to the store and give Holley a break.”
“Always leaving me here,” Grandpa mumbled.
I kissed his cheek. “The last of your tomatoes are ready. Give me a week and I’ll have a huge bowl for you.”
“You better leave, then. They need feeding with that tomato feed I gave you. And put a banana around the stems—”
“It’ll help them ripen.” I grinned. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget. Most are ready to ripen in the bowl anyway.”
Grandpa beamed. “I’ll send you photos of the ducks later.”
Wonderful.
I couldn’t think of anything better.
“Good luck,” Saylor whispered to Amanda as we made a swift departure. Our old friend gave us a wry smile as she immediately got in between the three arguing elderly ladies.
“Thank God for that,” I breathed as we escaped the craziness of the retirement community.
“Don’t count your ducks before they’re lined up,” Saylor said, unlocking her car and looking at me over the top of mine. “It’s not over yet.”
***
I groaned as I
