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mind. “Uh, not really.”
    The older woman patted her rump. “Look, I’ve got curves back here.” She thrust out her rear, then gave an exaggerated bump and grind. “The damnable thing is that after fifty or sixty, you get flat back here. No man wants to pinch a woman who’s flat. I remember vacationing in Italy before you were born. Got pinched everywhere I went. Glorious trip. So, last weekend, they had a flea market going on over at the Wharf. I found these padded panties. Don’t you think they’re wonderful?”
    Briana squelched a laugh, somehow managing to turn it into an approving smile. “I see it now. Looks great.”
    Pleased with herself that she had her friend smiling, Irma sat down and squeezed lemon in her tea. “You better take good care of your parts, honey, ‘cause they have a way of disappearing.” She patted her chest. “The boobs are the first to go. You dry up and wither away to practically nothing. I’ve got pads here, too. Why do you think I always wear these busy little blouses? I’d look like a young boy in that lovely little knit thing you have on, even with a little stuffing.” She sighed dramatically, picking up her cup. “What nature’s forgotten, we take care of with cotton. Or,” she went on, pausing to stroke her cheeks, calling attention to her second face-lift, “what nature changes drastically, we correct plastically.” She chuckled at her own joke.
    Briana shook her head, gazing at the older woman with affection. “I’ve missed you, Irma. You’re one in a million.”
    The widow sobered. “I’ve missed you, too. I know I’m being selfish, but I’ll say it anyhow. I hope you’re here to stay.”
    “I’ll be around awhile.” She needed the time to sort out her options. “I think I’ll enjoy redoing Gramp’s house.” Irma was right A few weeks of hard physical work couldn’t hurt. “I’ve always loved it here.” Her grandparents’ home had been the one constant in her life, with her parents continually moving while she’d been growing up. After their marriage, she and Robert had lived first in Manhattan, then in an apartment in Boston, followed by a house in Cambridge. And finally, after the divorce, she’d bought the Boston town house that had never truly felt like home, especially now, filled with memories of the son she’d never see again.
    Her only real roots had been here in Nantucket. A part of Briana longed for permanence, a place she felt she belonged, where she felt safe. Perhaps after fixing up Gramp’s house, she’d know what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
    “It’s even better around here when all the tourists go home, you remember? No need to make reservations at the best restaurants. Hell, they practically give meals away, too. And the traffic slows down to a comfortable crawl.”
    “I remember. And winters are so beautiful.”
    Irma picked up her fork, indicating their dessert. “As I recall, chocolate’s your favorite, so have at it.” She’d baked the cake this morning after hearing via the grapevine that Briana was back. If she hadn’t stopped in, Irma had planned to take it over later.
    Briana gave in to temptation. “Mmm, this is delicious.”
    They ate in silence for a bit before Irma began again. “Did you hear about Jeremy dying? That man was a real class act. If I’d have been twenty years younger, I’d have set my cap for him long ago. You know, in the near thirty years I knew Jeremy Slade, I never once saw him with a woman romantically, though there were a few who tried to catch his interest.”
    “Nor did I. I was very fond of him. When I was a child, he used to let me sit and watch him paint, if I promised to be very, very quiet. Afterward, he’d reward me with a lemon drop from the bowl he always kept on his table. He even let me go with him in his truck when he took his paintings to the gallery.” She took another couple of bites, then pushed her plate aside. After eating so little for weeks,