Over the headrest, the man in front of me gave me a dirty look. "Would you mind?" he said, gesturing to his phone.

On the other end, Grandma was clamoring for attention. "Darling, have you been listening to a word I've said?"

"Sorry," I muttered, slinking down in my seat. "I'm on the bus. It's a bit noisy." As if in retaliation, the man in front of me upped the volume.

With a hint of a huff, Grandma started over. "As I was telling you, I was at the beauty parlor yesterday, and who should I see but Muffin Watkins."

"Really! Muffin!" I exclaimed with false enthusiasm, as though I had any idea who she was.

"And she was telling me all about her son—"

"Dumpling?" I suggested. "Crumpet? Scone?"

"Andy," Grandma said pointedly. "He's a lovely boy."

"Have you met him?"

Grandma ignored that. "He just bought the loveliest new apartment. His mother was telling me all about it."

"I'm sure she was."

"Andy," declared Grandma, in the ringing tones of a CNN correspondent delivering election results, "works at Lehman Brothers."

"And Bingley has five thousand pounds a year," I murmured.

"Eloise?"

"Nothing."

"Hmph." Grandma let it go. "He's very successful, you know; only thirty-five, and he already has his own boat."

"He sounds like a regular paragon."

"So I've given your number to his mother to give to his younger brother, Jay," Grandma concluded triumphantly.

I took the phone away from my ear and stared at it for a moment. It didn't help. I put the phone back to my ear. "I don't get it. You're setting me up with the inferior brother?"

"Well, Andy's mother tells me he's just started seeing someone," Grandma said, as though that explained everything. "And since Jay is in England, I don't see why you can't just meet for a nice little dinner."