"Hi, Mrs. Mathison. My name's Garrett. I just moved in across the street and was doing some yard cleanup after last night's storm so I thought I'd cut up some of the fallen limbs in your yard too as long as I had my chain saw warmed up."
"Oh, that's so sweet. My son-in-law would have done it in another week or so, but, oh, that was such a nice gesture. Come in, come in."
"Thank you m'am."
"I just hate lightning and thunder. Always have. Now, Gary, he was brave. He would have stood right there in the doorway during the worst of the storm and smiled at it."
"Gary."
"Gary was my husband. He passed away about ten years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. Although it takes a long time to get over it. Don't believe what people say. It takes a long time."
"Yes, m'am."
"You've been here about a month now, haven't you."
"Yep, moved in just over 3 weeks ago. I'm almost settled now."
"I'm sorry I didn't get over to say hello. I used to bring cakes or casseroles to new arrivals. I don't know if anyone does that anymore. Nowadays I don't do get out of the house much except to buy groceries or have lunch with old friends. I really don't even like to cook for myself. Old age, you know . . ."
"You don't look that old."
"That's sweet of you. I have a standing appointment at the hairdresser's every week and try to get made up even if I'm not planning to see anybody that day – like today."
"Well, I think you look great."
Oh . . . you've just become my favorite neighbor. Believe it or not, I'm going to be 82 in two months. Here let me get you a small glass of cheer to officially welcome you into the neighborhood – and to thank you for cutting up my tree limbs . . ."
"Oh, that's not necessary. It's only 2 o'clock. . ."
"Nonsense, I insist. I've got the bottle right here. It's Cardenal Mendoza. It was Gary's favorite Brandy. There's a little bit of a caramel taste to it but I like it. What do you think?"
"It's good. It's really warm going down too. Maybe you could top it off for me."
"Sure. You know, some days when there's not much happening – which is most days, to be honest – I'll pop open a bottle and pretend I'm drinking it with Gary."
"Well, Mrs. Mathison, today you won't have to. Cheers!"
"Cheers!"
"Wow, you're 82. I just can't believe it. You look . . . wonderful."
"Oh, shush, sweetie. Now you're just flattering me. If you were 40 years older or I was 40 years younger, I'd be worried. Tee hee. How old are you, Garrett?"
"Now you're the one who's flattering. I'm 52 as of last Tuesday."
"Posh! I don't believe it. You're tall and muscular. I wouldn't think you're over 45. Why, you look like a taller version of my Gary."
"Thanks. I work out a little."
"Where's. . . um, Mrs. Garrett."
"If we're going to talk about her I will need another glass of the Cardenal. Fact is, I don't know for sure where she is. She took off about 6 months ago and I haven't heard from her. She left without a word."
"Oh, that's awful. What about your children?"
"Fortunately, there weren't any. She sent me a post card saying she was trying to 'find herself.' Do you believe it? She's 48 years old and hasn't found herself yet?"
"You poor man (pour me some too, while you're at it). You have such strong hands but they're soft. What do you do, Garrett?"
"I'm a sales manager. I work mostly out of an office and we just relocated here last year."
"Whew . . . . excuse me. I'm getting a little woozy. I should have had some lunch, I guess."
"Here, Mrs. Mathison, let me help you over to the couch. Just take my arm. No, wait, hold onto my shoulder and let me put my arm around your waist. There. Is that better?"
"Wow, I haven't had service like this since Gary was alive. He was such a gentleman, just like you. There, that feels better. Sit down over here by me so we can talk some more."
"It's kind of a small couch. Do you think there's room?"
"I'm sorry. You probably need to get going. You don't want to spend time on a tiny couch with an old woman. I'll walk you to the door . . . ooh . . ."
"Don't get up, Mrs. Mathison, or you'll fall down again. I'll come over there. Mind if I have another sip of your brandy?"
"No, not at all. Bring it over here with my glass. I'm a lot better now that I'm sitting down."
"Here you go, Mrs. Mathison. You don't mind me putting my arm behind you, do you?"
"No, not at all. Tee hee. You know, this is what we used to do in the movies. When I was dating – and yeth, yes, they had movies then! – boys would sneak their arm around me and try to hug me or sometime even steal a kiss."
"I think boys are still doing that."
"Some things don't change, I guess. Are you comfortable?"
"Yes, m'am. Boy this brandy is sure warm going down. Oops, sorry."
"That's okay, sweetie."
"Your skin is really soft, Mrs. Mathison. A lot of ladies, when they get older, their skin gets sort of flabby. Your arm feels soft and smooth. You sure you're 82?"
"Almost. Top it off for me, darlin'."
"I've always had a kind of thing for older women, women older than I am. My first two girlfriends were in college when I was still in high school."
"You must have been big for your age."
