Free Come Fly With Me by Addison Fox

unearthed a few sets of scissors from the elementary school and she’d used the small torture device for so long, her palm was actually cramping.
    Sloan gritted her teeth and kept a proper Westchester smile on her face as she muttered back, “You do realize someone will have to hang these, too?”
    “Oh good God.”
    “You gals having fun?” Julia cooed from the end of the table. She was unraveling a string of pink and red beads that Sophie had unearthed from a giant rubber tub.
    “The best, Mrs. Forsyth,” Sloan sang out.
    “Do you know when we started this little event?”
    “Um, no.” Grier looked around the town hall at the various groupings of women. Another table was busy using a pattern to draw the hearts—in all three sizes they’d ultimately hang—and yet another where Avery sat unraveling the same type of beads Julia had.
    “It was a celebration for Mick’s parents when they got married. We’d so wanted a couple to get married on Valentine’s Day in this town and they obliged us.”
    A delicate elbow hit her in the ribs as Sloan muttered, “Say something nice.”
    Grier shot her a dirty look back as she pried her fingers out of the small scissors and reached for a can of Coke someone had pressed on her. “That’s really nice, Mrs. Forsyth.”
    “It wasn’t just nice.” Mary O’Shaughnessy floated over to their table as if she carried a radar device. “It was dreamy. Just as we’d hoped. Mick arrived the following November.”
    Grier almost choked on her soda. “That’s great.”
    “His parents didn’t waste any time making me a grandmother.” Mary’s beatific smile shone down onher and Grier had the sudden urge to scream,
Fire!
and flee the building.
    When neither she nor Sloan said anything, Mary continued on as if there had never been a silence. “I’ve always thought Mick would make an excellent father.”
    “I agree.” The words were out before she could stop them and Grier quickly realized she had no interest in holding back the compliment. “He’s a wonderful man, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy. He’ll make a great father.”
    Giant hearts practically floated from Julia’s and Mary’s eyes as they exchanged glances down the table. Grier wondered abstractly if she and Sloan came off nearly so scary when they got together.
    If she was honest with herself, she sort of hoped they did.
    And then slightly scary turned into completely diabolical as a deep male voice echoed—hale and hearty—through the hall. “Hello.”
    “Well, speak of the devil.” Mary dropped her mouth into an
O
of surprise. “Mick is here and he’s brought our supplies.”
    If the thought of a roomful of women staring on as she and Mick danced around each other was daunting, the image of more construction paper had Grier’s stomach bunching up in knots.
    “You mean there’s more?”
    “Why don’t you go relieve the delivery boy?”
    Grier shifted to avoid another one of Sloan’s razor-sharp elbow pokes. “And why don’t you mind your own business before I dig up some lefty scissors to really torture you with.”
    “Oh, come on, it’s sweet. The grandmothers are playing cupid.” Sloan pointed at their overflowing table. “It’s oddly festive.”
    “I hate you.”
    Sloan offered up a mock sigh before reaching for another piece of construction paper. “It’s a thin line between love and hate.”
    “Grier!” Mary waved her over. “You’re on heart duty. Could you give me a hand?”
    “You’re being summoned, Ms. Thompson.”
    “Screw the thin line. I well and truly hate you.” Grier stood to cross the room. The feeling wasn’t unlike being naked as each and every eye in the Montgomery Meeting and Recreation Center focused on her.
    So why was it the only eyes she could concentrate on were the vivid blue pair belonging to Mick O’Shaughnessy?

Chapter Six
     
    “A nd would this be your idea of subtle, Grandma? Or simply crafty and opportunistic?”
    Although his grandmother’s eyes