Mimi’s face was tender when she said, “You’re so young. Too young to go without love. I’m sure you can get all the sex you need, you’re such a gorgeous girl. But sex combined with love is something of an entirely different magnitude. It would be a shame for you to miss that.”
Darcy dropped her eyes, shifting uncomfortably on her chair.
Mimi laughed. “It’s odd, isn’t it, listening to an old crow like me talking about sex. No one wants to believe their parents ever had sex, and certainly not their grandparents.”
“It is different, sharing these thoughts with…an older woman. I couldn’t have talked with my grandmother like this, and we were very close. You’re much more open than other women your age are. When I talk with my friends, usually when we’re drinking—” Darcy held up her glass like a visual aid—“any sex talk is funny. We laugh like maniacs when we talk about sex. You’re being rather…solemn. Anyway,” Darcy continued, almost defensively, “sex is not what I mean when I say I don’t need a man messing up my life.”
Suddenly, a man walked through the rose-covered arbor into the yard. Darcy hoped he hadn’t overheard their conversation.
It was Clive, all casual and relaxed, carrying a bag of groceries. “Sorry to bother you, but have you kidnapped my grandmother?”
Darcy took a few seconds to recover from the sheer sight of the man. He was so brawny, so male. “Yes,” Darcy told him, her face serious. “She’s my hostage, and I won’t release her until she finishes her margarita.”
“Clive!” Mimi called. “Come join us.”
“Yes, please do. I’ll get you a glass.” Darcy stood too quickly and swayed, catching the table to steady herself.
Clive grinned. “How many margaritas have you had?”
Darcy smiled back, feeling a bit tipsy. “It’s her fault,” she said childishly.
Clive laughed. “It always is. Believe me, I know.”
He bent over to kiss Mimi on her cheek. “You are incorrigible.”
“Would you like one?” Darcy asked, holding up the pitcher.
“Thank you, no.”
“Don’t be such a stick,” Mimi told him. “Sit down and join us for a while.”
“Do you have any beer?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
Darcy hurried into the kitchen. First, she drank a glass of water. Standing at the kitchen window, she quickly surveyed Boyz’s yard—no car, no people. Whew. How hideous would it be if they’d overheard her conversation with Mimi? She filled her glass again and prepared a glass of water for Mimi. She put a triangle of Brie and some crackers on a board. She grabbed a Whale’s Tale Pale Ale and went outside, opening the door with a bump of her hip. She went down the steps and across the grassy yard.
She set a glass of water next to Mimi and settled in her chair. She smiled at Clive. And knew her cheeks were flushed and hoped really hard that he thought it was the alcohol.
“Clive,” Mimi prompted, “tell Darcy what you’re doing this summer.”
He rolled his eyes. “I apologize for my grandmother’s bossiness. I won’t sue you for kidnapping her, I’ll pay you.”
“You are a terrible grandchild,” Mimi said. “Anyway, it’s not like it’s top secret code encryption you’re working on up there in your aerie.”
Aerie. Many people would call it an attic. Darcy had been through the house; she knew the layout. From his aerie, Clive could see down into his yard and hers and Boyz’s, too.
Clive said, “I’m writing a book about the blues.”
“As in music?”
“Right.”
“Are you a musician?”
“A mediocre musician. But I’m a good musicologist.”
“He has a PhD!” Mimi bragged.
“I take her with me everywhere,” Clive said, rolling his eyes.
“Do you teach? Write?”
“Both. I teach the history of music and other topics at B.U. Music and the brain, our perception and reaction to music, the physics of sound, sacred music, the development of instruments—”
“And he’s writing a book about the blues!” Mimi interjected.
“Mimi, we told her that already.” Clive didn’t scold her. His tone of voice was simply informational. But Darcy understood—Mimi wasn’t tipsy, but she was sliding that way. To Darcy, Clive said, “I should tell you, because Mimi certainly won’t, that she takes a number of medications to help with her blood pressure and arrhythmia. Alcohol interferes with their efficiency.”
“Got it,” Darcy said.