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“Nah. He was a city boy. But every summer his folks would come down to Hampton Cove and rent the old Mason place near Devil’s Point. The house is long gone now, bulldozed in the eighties and developed into a big fancy hotel. Oh, the fun times me and Burt used to have. Then one summer his folks didn’t come down, and I never saw him again. We didn’t have no internet back then, and he never gave me his address or else I would have written. He did have my address, though, and for three years I hoped he’d write.” She pressed her lips together. “He never did, so I finally mended my broken heart and moved on with my life. That’s when I met Jack. He was a sailor.” She shrugged. “The rest is history.”

Uncle Alec grumbled something. He was part of that history, Jack being his dad.

“So how did you finally reconnect?” asked Philippe.

“He left a message on my Facebook page,” said Grandma.

They all looked at her.“You have a Facebook page?” asked Odelia.

“Sure I do. No thanks to you people. I had to set it up all by myself.”

“What do you need a Facebook page for?” asked Uncle Alec.

“Where else am I going to meet some nice boys?”

Alec raised his eyes to the ceiling again.“Why do you need to meet nice boys?”

“You may not want to hear this but a girl’s got needs,” she snapped. “And since all the nice boys are taken or on the Facebook I made myself a page. With some help from Dick Bernstein and Rock Horowitz from the senior center. They were only too happy to oblige.”

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something. It sounded like a prayer.

“Grandpa told me he met a woman online,” said Philippe.

Grandma tapped her chest.“I’m that woman, kiddo.”

“So he reached out to you?” asked Odelia.

“He sure did. Said he remembered me fondly and wanted to apologize about never writing to me back in the day. Turns out his folks discovered he’d been seeing some local hussy—that’s me,” she added proudly, “and wanted to break up the affair before things got serious. He did write me, hesaid, but his parents intercepted his letters and burned them.”

“Just likeThe Notebook,” said Chase quietly.

“I was supposed to meet him here today,” Grandma continued. “For our grand reunion. And now you tell me he’s dead!”

“At least inThe Notebook they were together at the end,” Odelia said.

Philippe wiped away a tear.“What an amazing story.”

“Yeah, pretty swell, huh?” said Gran. She smacked her lips. “Burt promised me apple pie. Do you think he ordered and paid in advance? I could use a piece of warm apple pie.”

Just then, another elderly lady stomped into the hotel lobby. Odelia recognized her as Scarlett Canyon. She was Gran’s age but looked years younger. The Hampton Cove scuttlebutt had it that Scarlett had had work done on her face, which looked suspiciously wrinkle-free. It lent her an unnatural look, her lips puffy and her eyes catlike. She also had an impressive d?colletage that she liked to play up by wearing dresses a few sizes too small.

“Vesta Muffin!” she roared the moment she walked in. “You whore!”

Grandma shot to her feet.“Look who’s talking!” she retorted furiously.

“Who’s this now?” Chase asked.

“Scarlett Canyon,” Odelia said. “She hates Gran’s guts. And vice versa.”

Rumor also had it that Scarlett had once tried to seduce Gran’s husband Jack and succeeded. The couple had stayed together but Gran had never forgiven either Scarlett, her former best friend, or her husband, who’d proceeded to drink himself into an early grave. The drinking had nothing to do with Scarlett, though. The man had been a closet alcoholic.

“Burt was my lover!” Scarlett cried, waving her arms dramatically. “Not yours!”

“Is it just me or does she remind you of Elizabeth Taylor?” asked Chase.

“Tell her. You’ll make her day,” Odelia said.

“Burt was mine—all mine!” Gran returned.

Philippe was staring from one old lady to the other, visibly confused that the scene had so abruptly switched fromThe Notebook to an episode ofFeud.

“He always told me he loved me more,” claimed Scarlett.

“That was before he met me,” said Grandma.

“Impossible! Burt liked a woman with curves! Not a bag of bones.”

“Burt liked women—notskankswho prey on other women’s husbands.”

“Oh, boy,” said Chase. “Maybe we should break this up.”

“Maybe you’re right. Before these ladies break the internet.” She gestured to several people filming the scene with their smartphones. Everybody likes free entertainment.

But before Chase could intervene, Scarlett broke down in tears, swooping down on one of the sofas and tremulously declaring,“My lover is dead. Now my life is over.”

Philippe, who’d been following the interaction with breathless anticipation, suddenly asked, “So who of you is my grandmother?”

Both ladies looked up in confusion.“Huh?” asked Scarlett eloquently.

The kid was wringing his hands, his face flushed.“My dad always told me his mother was a woman Burt had loved and lost in the Hamptons. So one of you must be her.”

“I was wrong,” said Chase. “This isn’tThe Notebook. This isThe Bold and the Beautiful.”