by Maxine Davis
I am “a little” older than most of the Georgia Romance Writers, but, hey, I’m not complaining—I should tell you some of my memories—or not. The other day I was writing and stopped to reread the last couple of pages.
In the scene, the heroine was transplanting tulips as her grandmother was attempting to prod her twenty-five-year-old granddaughter into flirting with the obnoxious, wouldn’t-get-his-hands-dirty, clothes-horse, neighbor.
Finally, the grandmother got up. “Well, I’m on my way. Your grandfather is taking me out to dinner tonight, but I did leave you a pie I made.” She paused a minute. “You know, pies are always better when shared with someone you should have sex with.”
Erin sprang to her feet, laughing and wiping her hands on her jeans. “GranAnn! You never cease to amaze me—or make me laugh. You better not let Mom hear you talk like that.”
“Erin, dear, she made a pie for your father this morning.” She winked at her granddaughter. “Don’t go by there this evening.”
“Euwwww, GranAnn, how am I going to get that picture out of my brain?”
“Never mind, hon, just hand me my pocketbook, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Purse. My purse…”
I decided to leave that in my book when, at one of the last GRW meetings, I panicked exclaiming, “I can’t find my pocketbook!”
My friend sighed, looked at me and cleared her throat. “Hey! anyone seen Maxine’s purse?”
“Ooo, I did it again, didn’t I,” I asked her. “Well, it was pocketbook when I grew up.” I looked at one of the girls at the table who was smiling. “I also make cornbread and biscuits.”
The girl laughed, “And now you’re going to say, from scratch? Oh, sure. HaHa.”
“And you don’t?”
“You really do?” She kept glancing back with a look of awe
I grabbed my things. “Let’s go, ladies. Panera Bread is waiting. And I still have to make a pie when I get home.”
I laughed at my own inside joke with a little extra chuckle at the fact that the young sometime do not have a clue about getting “a little” older and the fun involved. There’s a lot of truth in that old saying, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” So put that little bit of wisdom in your purse, ladies.