Chapter 1
Oh dear sweet heavens. Vera made the banana pudding.
Bert Swenson could hardly contain his excitement as he approached the dessert table setup inside the Jaycee’s community building. He’d waited a whole year for this. In Rosewood, the annual Fourth of July picnic was an event that brought the whole community together, and it just wouldn’t be the same without Vera Reynolds’s banana pudding. She made it every year, and every year, Bert ate at least two helpings. As he spied the glass pan piled high with fluffy toasted meringue, he could almost taste the creamy custard, crunchy cookies, and soft, sweet bananas.
He was almost ashamed to set his box of cookies from Madelyn’s bakery on the table beside it. They were excellent cookies, and Maddie had done a great job revamping the old Rosewood Bakery after Estelle’s death, but Vera’s banana pudding was like a Michelangelo beside his crayon chicken scratching.
Thankfully no one really expected him to cook. There were benefits to being an old, retired widower. When Margaret had been alive, they would’ve brought potato salad or deviled eggs or fried chicken. She would’ve slaved and fussed and gotten herself all worked up over it, putting herself in a sour mood before they took one step out of the house. Of course, he’d contributed nothing to that venture aside from soothing Margaret’s nerves and carrying the tray of food in from the car.
Now that he was on his own, people were pleased if he brought anything at all. Considering he’d been living on frozen dinners and canned soup for the last few years, it was just as well he didn’t cook. He’d never quite caught the knack for anything more complicated than grilled cheese. They didn’t need a food poisoning epidemic breaking out at the annual Rosewood Fourth of July barbecue, anyway.
Turning his head, Bert spied Vera as she helped arrange incoming platters of food at a table further down. He couldn’t help but admire Vera’s figure as she leaned in to place a basket of rolls on the far side of the setup. Margaret had been on the thin side all her life, but Vera was full-bosomed with a soft, round rear end. Her denim capris highlighted her shape as she bent over to uncover a vegetable tray, and Bert caught himself clucking his tongue in appreciation. He sure did like Vera’s look. She took care of herself, even after she retired from teaching at the elementary school. Her fingernails were always neatly manicured and her brown hair nicely styled and colored. Their spouses had both passed on, but you could tell she had plenty of life left to live. Bert wanted to be a part of it.
Frankly, he’d been disappointed when Vera lost the bidding war for him at the Valentine’s Day bachelor auction. She and Estelle Townsend had really gone at it with the final bid ending at seven thousand dollars and Estelle winning the date. Truth be told, it would’ve been better all-around if Vera had won, instead. Then, perhaps Estelle would still be alive. The owner of the Rosewood Bakery hadn’t really been interested in the date he’d planned. She’d heard about Bert’s reputation as a lover and was more interested in getting him into bed. He’d given her what she’d wanted, but he knew he should’ve held back. Bert had a gift in the bedroom and Estelle’s heart just couldn’t take it.
It made Bert wonder if Vera could take it. She seemed to be in good health, always scuttling about town and active in community events. Her garden was well-tended, and she had some of the finest begonias he’d ever seen. He’d wanted to approach her, but after everything that happened with Estelle, he’d held back. He certainly didn’t want another woman’s passing on his conscience. He also didn’t want to be the center of town gossip by moving on too quickly. How long should he wait before asking Vera out? Did Emily Post have a passage about how long a man must wait before resuming dating after his weekend hookup dies of passion?
He doubted it.
Today might be his chance, though.
Bert wasn’t going to rush this, however. He had plenty of time tonight to make this happen. Instead, he opted to stroll past Vera and Francine. He flashed them both a wide smile. “Good evening, ladies.”
Francine eyed him suspiciously, as she usually did, but Vera smiled back with her blue-gray eyes twinkling. “Good evening, Bert. Did you see I brought my banana pudding?”
“I did. I’ve been waiting all year to get a taste of your goodies, Vera.” He didn’t mean it suggestively, but he knew instantly it came out that way when Vera’s plump cheeks flushed red and Francine frowned with disapproval. Oh, well. It was true either way.
“I hope it lives up to your high expectations.”
“I have no doubt that it will.” With a pointed wink at Vera, Bert tipped his plaid golfer’s cap, excused himself, and headed outside to where everyone else was gathered at the park.
Chapter 2
“He’s looking at you again.”
Vera gave a quick glance over her shoulder and confirmed what Francine had pointed out. Bert was several tables away, sitting with his family. In between laughing and chatting with his children, he would look her way, but the moment he saw her watching, he’d turn back to his family. At the moment, his youngest grandson was wearing his plaid cap. Bert’s thinning white hair stood every which way in the light, summer breeze. As a younger man, his hair had been thick and golden like honey. He was a tall, lean man, so different from her Herman with his darker coloring and stocky build. The two men were opposite in many ways, and yet she found herself attracted to each of them in their time.
“Good,” she said to Francine. “I want him to look.”
“You’re an old hussy,” Francine said before taking a bite of Connie Jackson’s cole slaw.
Vera turned back to her friend with a shrug of indifference. “So what if I am? I was faithful to Herman for forty-three years. I was a virgin when I got married, even. What’s the harm in me having a little fun in my golden years?”
Francine twisted her lips in thought. “I’m sure that’s what Estelle thought, too.”
Vera smacked at Francine’s hand. “Oh, you quit it. Doc Owens did my physical last month. I’m healthy as a horse.”
“Just because you can doesn’t mean that you should.”
“And I suppose that you and Wayne have just completely given up on romance and passion just because you’re old?”
Francine picked up a deviled egg from her plate. “We’ve been married for forty years, Vera. We’re not exactly screaming the walls down these days.”
“Well, you should be. If Herman was still alive, I’d like to think we would shake things up from time to time. I dare you to go home tonight and make some fireworks of your own! You should make the most of your tim
e with your husband while you’ve still got one. A lot of us aren’t so lucky. Dating in your sixties is scary.”
“Then don’t do it, Vera. It’s scary because it’s a bad idea.”
Vera shook her head. “You know, I don’t remember you being such a fuddy-duddy when we were younger. As I recall, you were the wild one. I can’t count on both hands how many boys you went through in high school.”
Francine gave a quick glance around to make sure no one was looking. Wayne was on the other side of the eating area, shooting the breeze with some of his old buddies from the steel mill he retired from. “It was the late sixties, Vera. That’s what everyone was doing,” she said in a harsh whisper. “There’s a big difference between having fun in the 60s and having fun in your sixties. What will your kids think?”
Vera had asked herself that very question since her failed attempt to purchase Bert at the Valentine auction. Before they’d left the high school, the whole town knew about her bidding war. She’d used that to broach the subject with her oldest daughter. Surprisingly, she’d been on board with her dating again. She just wanted Vera to be happy. Would Bert make her happy? Perhaps.
She did her best to get out into the world and be involved in community activities. She didn’t want to become one of those little old ladies who got Meals on Wheels delivered and never left the house. She didn’t want to sit around and wait for her time to join Herman in heaven. If she took care of herself, she could live another thirty years! She wanted a little excitement and passion in her life. When Bert smiled at her, she felt young and free again. Holding hands and going to dinner would be nice after so many nights home alone.
Before she could respond to Francine, Dotty dropped into the seat beside them. She had apparently skipped the food table entirely and went straight to desserts. Her plate was piled high with cookies, banana pudding, a slice of Marilyn Gallagher’s award-winning pie, and a piece of Francine’s gelatin flag cake. She sincerely hoped that Francine got a picture of her cake before Dotty jumped in. She knew that Francine probably spent all morning aligning the berries and piping whipped cream into a flawless recreation of the American flag. Still wouldn’t taste as good as Vera’s pudding, though.
“What will your kids think of what?” Dottie asked before shoveling a bite of strawberry pie into her mouth.
Francine shook her head at Dotty. “What would they think of Vera dating. Aren’t you going to eat dinner before you devour all those sweets?”
Dotty wasn’t at all fazed by Francine’s pointed tone. “As they say... life is short, eat dessert first. If I have room, I’ll eat real food later. Who are you dating, Vera?”
“No one,” Vera was quick to point out. “But Bert Swenson seems to be interested in starting up something.”
Without subtlety, Dotty turned to look at where Bert was sitting and Vera’s eyes followed. Bert was still watching them. This time, he held up his heaping bowl of banana pudding with a wide grin.
“I’d go for it,” Dotty declared. “He’s handsome enough and has most of his hair. It’s a win-win in my book. Why the hell not?”
Vera was not surprised by Dotty’s support considering she spent many of her afternoons ogling the firemen at the station across the street from her house. Dotty pretty much did and said whatever she felt like. Vera wasn’t quite that brave. Sometimes she wished she was. Francine had been her best friend for over fifty years, but sometimes she just wanted to tell her to shut up and mind her own business.
Then again, maybe she was right. Was she borrowing trouble by opening this can of worms? She certainly wasn’t interested in another husband. That came with chores, and she’d already served her time. Couldn’t she just have a boyfriend? A gentleman caller? Someone to bring her flowers and make her feel young and special again?