Free The Bikini Car Wash by Pamela Morsi

the steps, but a woman in a big yellow hat had her gloved hand on his arm and was staring up adoringly into his eyes. He was grinning down at her.
    “Ewww,” Andi muttered under her breath.
    A few minutes later she caught up with her father and Jelly in the parking lot, a quartet of gone-to-seed groupies still in tow. Now that the truth had been shown to her, there wasabsolutely no missing it. These women all had household projects they wanted him to look at, books they wanted to share, chores they needed a man’s opinion on. Mrs. Gaspar even claimed to have fifteen pounds of fresh summer sausage that needed to be cooked up on a grill.
    They were fawning over her father and were condescendingly saccharin-sweet to her sister.
    Andi was disgusted and decided to take the situation in hand.
    “Excuse me, ladies,” she announced loudly. “We really have to go. I have a rack of lamb warming in the oven and you know you mustn’t wait too long to drizzle it with rosemary sauce.”
    Her words stunned the ladies present. Andi had never cooked a rack of lamb in her life, but she’d eaten one with rosemary sauce in a Chicago restaurant and it had been fabulous. She wanted to let these women think she was a gourmet chef. She didn’t want any of them trying to load up her father with home-cooked meals.
    Unfortunately, her family was as caught off guard by her remark as the widow horde.
    “What’s a ‘wreck a lam’?” Jelly asked.
    “Never mind. Get into the truck,” Andi whispered.
    As they pulled out of the parking lot, her father questioned her.
    “What was that all about?” he asked.
    “Those women,” Andi complained. “Jeez, Pop, they’re after you. You’re still grieving and they’re coming on to you, trying to take advantage.”
    “To take advantage?” Pop chuckled. “I doubt the ladies of the church have intentions to ravish me.”
    “Well, maybe not that, but they are desperate, though I wouldn’t put it past Betty Broniki.”
    Her father laughed. “Old Bett has always been a gal who goes after what she wants.”
    Andi huffed. “And she wants to get her hooks into you. They all do. Making excuses to lure you to their houses and tempting you with casseroles.”
    He grinned at her. “Don’t worry, Andi,” he said. “I can’t be had so cheap. At the very least I’m holding out for pierogi.”
    “Pop!”
    “You’re taking this too seriously,” her father said.
    “It is serious,” Andi said. “Mom just died and here are these women, her friends, stumbling across her grave to get to you.”
    “Nobody is stumbling across anybody,” Pop said. “And Ella would have thought this all a wonderful entertainment for the community.”
    Andi knew he was right. Mom hadn’t had a jealous bone in her body. This wasn’t about her mother. It was about her father.
    “Pop, you’re such a great catch,” she said seriously. “Hardworking, honest, faithful, kind, there’s not a widow at the church who wouldn’t give her eyeteeth for a chance with you. I’m just worried that…that your dating skills might be a bit out of date. These women could use their…wiles in ways that you’re not expecting.”
    “Women had their wiles back in my day as well,” her father told her. “I think I can handle myself. And try not to worry. I’m not interested in a relationship with any of the women at the church.”
    Andi nodded, grateful.
    “I like pierogi, too,” Jelly announced. “But not radish.”
    Andi looked at her sister momentarily puzzled. “Radish? Oh, Pop said ravish, not radish,” Andi said.
    “What’s ravish?”
    Pop gave Andi a look. “It’s the same as radish,” he told Jelly. “Only it actually tastes worse.”
    “Then I sure don’t want any,” Jelly said.
    They continued their drive home and ate their pitiful microwaved lunch around the table. Afterward Pop made an excuse to leave and took off in the truck.
    It was only then, as he was driving away, that Andi realized he’d said he