“Now, we both know Mr. Mattley would descend from above and kick my sorry ass for making a move on his lovely widow.” I wink. Mrs. Mattley presses against her chest like her cackling hurts. “Ascend, honey.” “What’s that?” “Ascend.” She points down. “It’s sweet that you think Mr. Mattley is in heaven. That old grumpy fart is looking up at us as we speak.”
