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That was probably why Casey was happy and content. However, she loved Julie more than she ever loved anyone, and that was saying something for Casey Bennett.
    Then Julie dropped the bomb about kids. Casey tried to understand. However, it just wasn’t for her. A child should have a mother and a father or at least a married couple, gay or straight. Julie wanted it and left Casey because of it. That was five years earlier. Since then, Casey went back to her old ways of casual partners, satisfying sex, and nothing long term.
    Well, I’ll help this Liz Kennedy and her family. I’ll let her stay at the cabin and I’ll stay in the city, she thought. “Shit. I hate the city.”  
    She then thought perhaps this Liz might like the apartment. No. A little kid on the tenth floor? Hell, that just begged for a 911 call. She could just see the little rug rat hanging from the balcony.
    “Shit,” she cursed rudely and headed for the shower.

 

    Chapter 3

    Meredith Casey looked in the mirror and touched the silver hair at her temples. “Not bad for a seventy-nine-year-old,” she whispered to her reflection and continued, “and having a daughter at eighteen and a granddaughter at thirty-nine.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was precisely 7:15. She sipped her martini and shook her head. “Idiot child. If she calls me with some lamebrain excuse…” When the doorbell rang, she called out, “It’s open.”
    Casey walked in sporting a deep frown. “You have to lock your door, Gram. Good grief.”
    “I live in a good neighborhood. Besides, I have a pistol.” She laughed and noticed her granddaughter did not join her. Casey walked into the living room and flounced on the couch. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “You did do something wrong, didn’t you?”
    “No, I did not do anything wrong.” Casey eyed the martini. “Did you make enough for two?”
    “I made enough for four,” she said. “And by the looks of you, you need them.”
    Casey walked over to the bar and poured the martini into the stemmed glass, adding several olives. Meredith said nothing as she watched her granddaughter sit once again on the couch. Casey took a long sip and let out a deep sigh.
    “I think we’ll stay in for dinner,” Meredith said evenly. “You don’t look like you’re in the mood for Charlie Trotter’s.” She kicked off her shoes. “Come with me.” She picked up her glass and started down the hall. “Bring the pitcher,” she called over her shoulder.
      “You don’t have to make dinner, Gram.” Casey dutifully followed down the hall with the martini shaker in hand.
    “I’m not. You are.” Meredith sat at the kitchen table. “Maria just went shopping. The fridge is stocked. Have at it.” She raised her stemmed glass, then took a sip.
    “Gram, I don’t cook.”
    “Still? How on earth are you going to get someone if you can’t boil water? Sit down.” She watched Casey as she sat at the kitchen table, sipping her martini. Meredith stuck her head in the refrigerator. “What do you have a taste for?”
    “How about a thick steak?”
    “Something light and Italian. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
    Casey groaned as Meredith gathered the fixings for an antipasto salad. “I got a call from Roger.”
    “I gathered that, what for?” She placed the meats and olives on the table, along with the cheese and tomatoes. “Cut the cheese.”
    “Very funny,” Casey mumbled and took the offered knife. “It seems my past is coming back to haunt me.”
    “How so?” Meredith asked. “Don’t tell me you got someone pregnant.” She smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes.
    Casey glared at her. “Can we cut the Marx Brothers routine for a minute? It seems an ex-lover of mine has passed away.”
    “Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry.” Meredith turned around and placed the olive oil on the table along with the loaf of crusty bread.
    “It’s okay. I haven’t seen Julie in five years. We, well, we weren’t a good