Page 22 of Wicked Player
It's a typical Sunday, save for the fact that my brain is full of Colton Rossi, which is annoying as heck. But what can you do? I’m busy making cupcakes and raspberry muffins.
“You want to go visit Judy again today?” I ask Christian.
“Yes, yes, yes.” He knows that a visit with Judy means he gets to eat cupcakes. He also loves her little dog, Mila. I'm not sure what kind of dog she is, small and black with fluffy ears. I should really ask one day.
When we get to Judy’s, the front door swings open like it always does. She’s so happy to see us every time we visit because we come baring gifts.
“I made you chocolate cupcakes and raspberry muffins today.”
“Oh, you're such an angel,” she tells me. “I adore you.”
I smile. “Of course you do. I bring you muffins and treats.”
“You know how I love them.” She crouches down to give Christian a hug. “How’s my favorite boy?”
“Good,” he says, all smiles. And then he’s off to play with Mila.
Once she has fetched Christian a glass of juice and tea for us, and has set the goodies on the coffee table, we all take a seat in her living room and we're quite cosy. We’re so used to this place. We come here often enough that I'm not unsettled by the bright colors; the teals, pinks and purples, and all the flowers and the dog toys everywhere. Judy loves purple. The furniture is purple, the walls, the doilies, her clothes… everything.
“What did you two do last night?” she asks. “I saw you drive off around six.”
Yes, Judy can be a bit ‘nosy neighbor,’ but I don’t mind it.
Colton comes to mind of course. Should I tell her about the party? I really don't want to. I’m ashamed. I don't want to be associated with Colton Rossi's infamous parties and harem.
“Oh… I went to a party last night,” I say, keeping it vague.
“I see.” She smiles. “Oh, I remember those days.”
“Do you?” I ask, curious. “Were you a party girl back in the day?” I try to picture her back then. She’s eighty-six now, but I can picture her young; pretty in her cute fifties and sixties dresses, dancing the night away.
“Oh, I was,” she tells me. “And I loved the bad boys.”
This makes me smile. “Please tell me more.”
“You really want to know?” she asks as we both glance over at Christian, who is stuffing his face with a cupcake and playing with Mila. The chocolate ones are his favorite. I brought chocolate cupcakes because Judy loves them too.
She slowly disrobes her cupcake. “Well,” she starts, staring off into the distance.
I study her delicate face. She has the prettiest blue eyes, a light grayish blue, something you don't see often. Her hair is white as the clouds, and her skin is paper thin, aged with years of memories, regrets perhaps… I don't know. And happiness for sure. She has three grown children she loves dearly, and is a widow who loved her husband very much.
Her full name is Judith, but I call her Judy because she's my Judy. We’ve known each other for six years now, since I first moved in, with Christian in tow, just a baby then. I inherited this property from my mother. It was handed to me after she ran off with her latest boyfriend. What was his name again? I forget now because he didn’t last long. Her parents left her both this property and the café when they moved into a retirement home together. They both died a few years later.
It’s a shack on a swampy bay, but I was happy to move in and take care of the café. And that's all I’ll ever need or want. And happiness for Christian and I of course. We’re doing all right, but money is really tight. I don't have any health insurance so that doesn't make it easy when it comes to dental and medical bills. Judy can't help us financially, but she's always looking out for us. She’s like a grandmother to Christian. She even looks after him once in a while, but not for long because she is eighty-six after all. She typically looks after him if I run an errand for an hour or two. She was a piano teacher back in the day, so she usually teaches him piano too. I’m not sure if he has natural ability, but he enjoys it.
That’s all I know. I want to know more about her.
“I've only ever loved two men,” she tells me. “This is a story I don't tell often…”
“All the better,” I say, eager to hear it.
“Well, let's start from the beginning, shall we? I'm not sure I ever told you that my parents used to own the general store in town.”
“Miriam and David’s place?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes, the very one.”
“What a small world.” Miriam and David Moore live just a few cottages down, and they now own the store. Miriam is also a good friend of ours and a neighbor. “That must have been very interesting and fun… candy all the time.”
