"Are the kids tucked in, Charlie? I thought maybe we
could talk."
Intriguing. From my mother-in-law's antsy, smiling
demeanor, she seemed like someone with a happy secret to
share. It crossed my mind that we'd recently talked about
her dating again, but surely not even Rose with all her
stubborn determination could have accomplished that so
soon? A boyfriend wasn't like a carton of milk--you
didn't just make the decision you needed one and run out
to the nearest corner market.
Of course, you probably also didn't call them boyfriends
past sixty. A beau, maybe? Gentleman callers? This is
Rose, not Scarlett O'Hara. I followed her into the
kitchen, where we sat at the table.
"Charlotte, dear, I know we haven't always been the
picture of harmony, but I never had a daughter. And you
were born without knowing your mother." This is where
anyone else might have said she loved me like a daughter.
Rose did not. But I was touched by the implication all
the same. "I want you to know that I heard what you said
the other night. Loud and clear. And I've been thinking
about it."
I grinned. "So, this is about dating?
"Yes, and I'm touched you wanted my blessing."
"Bl-blessing?"
"To date. All of those things you said, about how our
husbands would want us to be happy... You were absolutely
right. Tom always took care of you and the kids, he
wouldn't want you to be alone. So how better for me, his
mother, to honor his family than to help you?"
Oh, this conversation had so taken a wrong turn! "Help
me?" I'd come into the kitchen expecting her to tell me
she'd decided to take ballroom dance or play bingo at the
senior center, and meet people her own age. Instead--and
my spinning brain couldn't quite process this--my late
husband's mother wanted to help me land a man? "That's
really..." Bizarre? "Kind of you, Rose, but there have
been so many recent changes in my life, in the kids'
lives. I don't think they're ready for the shock of Mommy
dating on top of everything else."
"But it's for the kids that this is such a good idea,
dear. Tom wouldn't have wanted them to be fatherless."
Egad, she'd zoomed past dating right on to
marriage! "Rose, when I broached the subject of getting
out more, maybe dating, I meant you."
She blinked. "I couldn't possibly. I'm much too used to
being on my own after all these years. But you're still
young. And you have me to help."
So she'd said. "Help how?" I had horrific visions of a
personals ad going out to major Boston newspapers without
my knowledge.
"Glad you asked." She reached for the spiral notebook
that sat at the center of the table, near the flowered
napkin holder. When she flipped the book open, I saw a
page filled with names, phone numbers and other
information. "I spent today collecting and organizing
details about potentially suitable young men."
"You made a list of men?" I kept my voice low, so as not
to wake the kids, but even I heard the rising hysteria in
my tone.
"Well, not by myself. I called all my friends."
"Right. Even better."
My lack of rampant enthusiasm seemed to be getting through
to her. "Charlie, on Halloween, you seemed in favor of
this."
"For you," I reiterated. "Finding some for you."
"Well, if I had been interested, what was the plan? To
troll bars and ask men their astrological signs?"
"Of course not. I just thought you could..." I stopped,
utterly clueless. I'd met Tom when I was a college
freshman and we'd been together until just over a year
ago. More than two decades. What did I know about dating?
"My method is thorough and logical," Rose pressed
on. "I've even put asterisks by the men who would be my
first choices."
Apparently, I'd been wrong. Men were like cartons of
milk. You just let Rose know whether you wanted skim,
soy, or chocolate, and she diligently set about getting
you one
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