They both stared at me, stumped.
“Oh, come on, you know why,” I said.
“I don’t.” Karen poured more vodka in her drink.
“Me neither,” Becky said, handing Karen a napkin when she spilled a little.
“He’s twenty-four.”
They both stopped and stared at me.
“And…” Becky prodded.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m older than him.”
“So,” Karen quipped. “The mayor is old enough to be his wife’s father.”
“I’m not old enough to be Tucker’s mother,” I said, feeling defensive.
“So, what’s the big deal?” Karen grabbed the cheese puffs bag off the coffee table offering some to Becky.
“I’m old enough that our goals are different. I want a man I can marry and settle down. I’m running out of time to have children.”
“And he wants to sow his oats?” Becky asked, taking a few cheese puffs.
“He’s twenty-four. You remember when you were twenty-four. You were out partying and dating and…not settling down.”
“I don’t know,” Karen said. “I dated then yes, but if I’d met the one then, I’d have settled down. I wasn’t dating just to meet some sort of young-fun quota. Plus, he’s sort of an old soul, don’t you think?”
“He does seem solid. I mean, he relates to the kids well, but he manages them too. And he’s had time here in Salvation to date others. It seems to me that he’s only ever had an interest in you.” Becky repoured her drink of coconut rum and pineapple juice.
“That’s just it,” I argued. “He hasn’t met other women in town.”
“That’s not true,” Karen said. “He’s hung out with Brooke and her friends.”
“Who are all married,” I said.
“Not all. Plus, there’s Sam at Salvation Station. She gives him a good look over when he’s there,” Becky offered. “There are other teachers. Melissa Sampson is about that age, single—”
“And has a pair of tits that make men drool.” Karen rolled her eyes.
“I don’t think Tucker has even noticed her, but he’s met her,” Becky said.
I drank my vodka and diet soda, and refilled it, with more vodka this time.
“But hey, if you didn’t feel it, then of course, it had to end,” Becky said.
“She didn’t say she didn’t feel it,” Karen said. “She said she was too old for him. Which is bullshit. Who cares?”
“People would talk,” Becky said. “That’s why she cares.”
“So the fuck what? Let ‘em talk.”
Becky laughed. “It’s easy for you to say. It’s not you they’re talking about.”
“It doesn’t make me wrong.”
“If you were being talked about, you wouldn’t like it,” Becky argued.