was back to Barry Manilow, Barbra Streisand and “Moon River.” And every now and then Maureen insisted on playing battle hymns. Which were better, she supposed, than working out to the hymns Annette sometimes brought in.
Even Weasel Boy looked like he was trying to cover his ears. His face was snuggled between his front paws.
“Oh, come on, he’s the most exciting thing that’s happened here in Snooze City for a long time,” Betty said. “We’ve all got someone we’d like to fix him up with.”
Nita chuckled again. “I sure do.”
“He’s afraid of babies. Isn’t that right, Arlene? She heard him say it,” Annette said.
Arlene waved her hand. “Ah, all men are afraid of the little buggers. Until they hold their own in their arms, that is. Then it all changes.”
Stacy let out a sound of exasperation, and not because everyone had halted in their movements, all thinking and planning and conniving. “Maybe he doesn’t want to be fixed up with a woman. Did you all think of that?”
All eyes swiveled toward her at the front of the community center’s rec room. “What, is he gay?” several of them asked simultaneously.
Okay, it was tempting—very tempting—to tell them he was flaming gay. She even opened her mouth to say yes. But she couldn’t do it, not when those broad shoulders and that very fine behind came to mind. “I doubt it.”
A wave of relief swept over the group of women in their pink, purple and, in Nita’s case, slut red—Nita’s words—leotards.
“It’s a darn shame when a good-looking man is gay,” Frieda said.
“A real waste,” Nita said.
“Except if you’re a gay man,” Betty said with a lift of her shoulders.
“All right, class, are we ready to proceed?” Stacy lifted her weights to ear level. “One-two-three, two-two-three…”
Arlene wasn’t even pretending to work out. “We need to approach Barrett logically, since he is, after all, a logical man.”
“There’s a perfect woman among us for him.”
“Someone we’re all overlooking.”
That got Stacy’s attention. And since no one else was working out, she dropped her weights to the floor.
“Down to earth, that’s what she needs to be,” Arlene said. “No woman on a permanent flight of fancy.”
“Definitely. But she should have a sense of humor.”
“And she should be compassionate,” another woman added. “The kind of woman who puts others before herself.”
Nita said, “But who knows how to have a good time.”
They all agreed on that one. Stacy was beginning to get a warm feeling inside.
“She should be cute,” someone else said. “Not gorgeous, not a woman who gets caught up in her appearance. A scientific man isn’t going to understand why she’d spend an hour making up her face.”
Stacy glanced in the mirror. Well, that was her, cute, definitely not gorgeous and not a woman who spent a lot of time in front of a mirror. That was evident. Granny taught her the practical things in life—using Spam to polish the furniture, using the bathroom before leaving the house and carrying a sweater just in case it was chilly where you were going. Makeup, hairstyling…Granny had been too simple to care about that kind of thing.
“And a woman who needs a man in her life. Someone who’s aching with loneliness, who needs affection and love…”
Stacy cleared her throat. “What about me?”
“Good one, Stacy! Like you’d be interested in some smarty-pants like that,” Nita said.
“Can you imagine the two of them?” Arlene said, shaking her head.
They must have imagined, because they all giggled. Stacy glanced at the mirror again to see if she’d missed something. Warts on her nose, for instance. A hunched back. Nope, just the cute-but-not-gorgeous gal that always looked back at her.
Arlene said, “Stacy, you have us.”
Betty said, “You’ve got a full life, just like your granny did. She didn’t need a man.”
Nita said, “You can babble on all you want, but the right woman for that man is here in this room.” She smiled. “Me.”
“Or the right woman for Ricky,” Betty said, nodding toward the wall of windows where Ricky the maintenance dude made his usual obvious attempt at not appearing as though he were watching them work out. That strip of decking between the windows and the pool was the cleanest few feet of concrete in the whole community. Stacy couldn’t understand why with his beefy, blond good looks he was so annoyingly desperate.
He wiggled his eyebrows at Stacy and patted his stomach. She shook her head and hoped no one had seen it. No way did she want these folks to know what she was up to until the deal was done. Till it was too late for them to tell her what a selfish, un-Granny-like thing that was to do.
“Too young,” Nita said with a dismissing wave. “No staying power. He’s like a small town—blink and you’ll miss it.”
A rousing polka filled the room after the laughter subsided. Still, no one moved. Pink and purple dumbbells had been forgotten on the carpet.
“What we need is a game plan,” Arlene said.
Frieda said, “Gene’s son Marty has worked with Barrett on a couple of projects. Says he’s a real good guy. Honest. Hardworking. Got his smarts from his father. Barrett’s mom has average intelligence, and that’s why the marriage didn’t work out. No connection, no communication. They got bored with each other.”
“Ah, so he needs a smart woman,” Betty said. “Good thing my Denise is smart. She was in all those advanced classes in high school, you know.”
“We know,” Arlene said with a roll of her eyes.
“Why don’t you just leave the poor man alone?” Stacy said, picking up her weights in a lame attempt to jump-start the workout session. “He has an important project he’s got to finish in less than a week.”
“That’s all the time he has?” Arlene asked.
Finally, some understanding. “Yes, he’s down to the wire and he’s never late. He needs some peace and quiet, not a date.”
“We’re running out of time, girls,” Betty said, clapping her hands. “We have mere days to snare him.”
“What about that game plan?”
“Arlene, you’ve already sent your niece over,” Nita said, glancing at her reflection in the mirror and fluffing her Lucille Ball red hair. “It’s my turn next.”
Arlene accused, “Tanya said you’d
