“But, Grandma Lilly, I don’t want to go on another date that you’ve set up. All of yours and Auntie Patty’s have been major disasters. I met a guy I’d like you to meet. His name is Jack.” Annie held out the phone from her ear as she heard Grandma Lilly chattering about how it was their responsibility to help her find a good man.
“You two need a hobby—ceramics, painting, anything but me.” Annie could feel her blood boiling, her Irish blood.
“Oh, child, don’t be silly. We’re very busy. We play cards once a week, we attend charity events and church. Don’t forget our participation at Our Lady of the Lake Church.”
“Well, it’s apparently not enough to keep you busy because you both insist on making my life a—”
“Be careful, Annie. You can’t take it back once you say it,” Lilly said with a tone of warning.
“Oh, Grandmother! I just want to find my own dates.”
“You’ve had three broken hearts within the last eighteen months. You clearly are choosing the wrong type of men.”
“That’s not true.” Annie didn’t want to admit that maybe it was.
“And, because you’re so resistant to our choices, you’ll never know if we even came close to selecting the right mate for you.”
“Selecting the right mate? Do you hear yourself talking? This is not the days of arranged marriages. I’m free to pick my own guy, failure or not,” Annie said, raising her voice a tad.
“There’s more involved here than just your failures, Annie. You are to inherit a lot of money someday. Your future husband must not be a money-grubbing individual and must be able to hold his own in terms of financial success.”
“Okay, now you just sound paranoid. I can’t talk to you about this any longer. I’ll be over for dinner tonight. See you then.” She lowered her head in defeat. She looked over to find Buffy staring up at her with big brown eyes. “They’ll never leave me alone until I marry the man of their dreams.”
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