Aimee Beasley held the door open to their apartment building’s lobby for her beloved and bespectacled Gram as the older woman listed the many wonderful qualities possessed by her pharmacist, starting with his full head of hair and ending with his detailed knowledge of the common side effects of every medication known to humankind. It was a surprisingly long list, so either Gram had spent a great deal of time compiling it, or she had simply made half of it up. Either way, her dedication to her cause was admirable.
“So?” said Gram, expectant and finally pausing to draw breath as she peered at her granddaughter through tortoiseshell glasses that seemed to dwarf her face.
Aimee shook her head.
“But he’s such a nice young man—“ her grandmother protested.
“Nope.”
“I’m sure the two of you would have a lovely time getting to know each other.”
“Nope.” This was becoming an all too familiar conversation between them, and it was usually sparked by whatever “suitable” prospect had happened to catch Aimee’s matchmaking grandmother’s eye most recently. Today, of course, it had been her pharmacist, a man who Aimee was quite sure had as little interest in dating her as she did in going out with him.
Gram held a quivering hand to her heart and sighed dramatically.
“Nice try, Gram,” Aimee said patiently, unperturbed and shifting the bag of groceries she carried to one hand so she could dig in her pocket for her keys with the other. “You know that won’t work on me.”
The older woman scowled, but the quiver in her hand abruptly disappeared.
“I don’t know why you insist upon turning down every young man I find for you. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep an open mind about this sort of thing, Aimee.”
“And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to pimp me out.” Aimee finally
found her keys and pulled them out to shove the right one into their mailbox.
Pulling out the handful of envelopes and flyers inside, she closed it again and led the way to the elevator.
“But, dear, my pharmacist is really very charming.”
“Then you go out with him.”
Gram frowned at Aimee again and took the mail from her so Aimee could better balance the groceries. “He’s barely thirty.”
Aimee let out a wolf whistle. “My Gram, the cougar!”
“The what?”
The elevator opened, and both women stepped inside. “It’s an older woman who likes to play with young boy-toys, Gram. But if you do decide to bring your pharmacist home with you one day, do me a favor and put a sock on the door or something so I know not to go barging in, okay?”
“Young lady—“ Gram began, sputtering at her granddaughter as the elevator carried them up to the fourth floor.
Aimee gave her a cheeky grin.
The older woman’s eyes narrowed, and she recovered her composure. “Don’t think I’ll give up that easily. I’ve got plenty of time on my hands and little else to do besides think about these kinds of things, you know.”
