eb93c43e214c621f9157c05b4b6a6878

Dallas de Prav? now burst forth into speech, producing a flow of words that was frankly impressive, seeing as we’d hardly heard his voice in all the time he’d been with us.

Troy nodded a few times very gravely, then said,“Mr. de Prav? says that he’s still very interested in visiting your muffin factory, but unfortunately it would have to be now. He has an important engagement coming up and will have to leave for Finland tomorrow.”

Gran’s flushed face had turned even darker. “He wants to see my muffin… now?!”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Troy with a courteous bow. “As you Americans like to say: it’s now or never.” He flashed a most toothy grin. “So please show us your muffin, madam!”

“Well, of all the damn cheek!” Gran cried.

The loud and resounding report of two slaps echoed through the air, and for a moment all was quiet. Two men stood rubbing injured cheeks, and massaging hurt egos, then Dallas once more erupted into a stream of words, this time accompanied by a lot of angry gestures and even angrier looks thrown in Gran’s direction.

“Mr. de Prav? would like you to know that he has no more interest in your muffins,” said Troy sadly. “And also he demands an apology. When you told him aboard the cruise vessel that you owned a company called Vesta Muffin and subsequently invited him over for a visit, he took your word for it that you wanted to go into business together. Now he’s not so sure.”

“I don’t own a muffin company,” said Gran. “Myname is Vesta Muffin.”

As Troy translated these words, the rest of the family broke into soft titters of amusement. Finally Dallas stood nodding as he listened carefully, then flashed a smile.

“So you mean to say you don’t want to sell your muffins to Mr. de Prav??” asked Troy, just to be sure.

“After the horrible things he just said to me? Absolutely not!” said Gran. “Tell him loud and clear so there is no mistake: no more muffins! This shop is closed for business!”

“But Gran,” said Odelia. “That man thought you owned a muffin factory. All he wanted was to buy your muffins and sell them in his chain of bakeries back home in Finland.”

“Well, he blew his chance now, didn’t he?” Gran fumed. “With his indecent proposals.”

“But Vesta,” said Chase. “Don’t you see? It’s all been one big misunderstanding!”

“I’ll bet it has. I thought I finally found a decent billionaire and it turns out he’s a pervert and a lecher! And me, a great-grandmother!”

“I like muffins,” said Charlene with a grin. “Very tasty.”

“Oh, don’t you muffin me, young lady,” said Gran.

Troy had continued to translate, and Dallas now seemed to have understood all, for he stood laughing with distinct relish, his stocky frame shaking with honest mirth.

“Very funny!” he cried, wagging his finger in Gran’s face.

“Well, I don’t think it’s funny at all,” said Gran. She turned to Chase. “Can’t you arrest him for indecent exposure or something?”

But before Chase could respond, Dallas had grabbed Gran’s hand and pressed a most gallant kiss on it. Then he smiled at her and said, “I like American Muffin!” And then he was off, Troy Packer in his wake. And as they walked away, stage left, they were both laughing heartily.

“What an idiot,” Gran muttered, then sighed. “And he seemed so promising.”

“At least he said he likes you,” said Scarlett, patting her hand consolingly.

“Yeah, Ma,” said Uncle Alec. “He said he likes your muffins. What more do you want?”

“What are they talking about, Max?” asked Dooley. “What’s all this stuff about Gran’s muffins?”

“I’ll explain to you later, Dooley,” I told him.

“When, Max?”

I thought for a moment.“When Grace is old enough to understand.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. And lay down his head and went to sleep.

So easy. Maybe from now on I’d use that line more often. After all, it would be years before Grace reached that age when she started asking the difficult questions. The kind of questions Dooley always asked. Years and years and years.

Then again, maybe not. She was, after all, Odelia’s daughter, Marge’s granddaughter and Gran’s great-granddaughter. Which meant we were in for some interesting times.

50. PURRFECT MESS

CHAPTER 1

“Max?”

“Mh?”

“Do you think James Bond could be played by a cat?”

It was one of those questions that makes you think, and so think is what I did.“What brought this on?” I said in an attempt at prevarication.

“Chase said that they’re looking for a new actor to play James Bond, since the previous one feels he’s too old for the role, and Odelia said they might pick a woman this time. So I was wondering why not a cat, you know?”

“I like your thinking, Dooley,” I said. “Why not a cat indeed?”

“I mean, the time that only middle-aged white males could play James Bond is well and truly behind us. And to appeal to a larger demographic they should consider their options. And everybody likes cats, so they’ve got that pre-existing audience.”