“William, I am so happy you agreed to have lunch with me,” Lacey sang as she sliced her already-cut salad into small bite-sized strips. “I’m just over the moon about being nominated for Person of the Year. Can you imagine?”

Well, in fact, he could imagine. Julianne was ecstatic after hoping to make the cut for three years running.

“So what did they cite as your outstanding accomplishments?” he asked before taking a bite of his orange chicken.

“Oh, that’s the best part,” she crooned. “They didn’t just name my pro bono work for the women’s shelter, but they also included the fact that I was elected to the governing board.”

“Were you?” he asked. “I don’t think I knew that. It’s great, Lace.”

“Thank you. I’m very proud of the work we do over there, William.”

Will chuckled inwardly. No one had ever called him William outside of a couple of teachers in middle school, but Lacey had latched on to his full name since the day they’d met.

“How about Julie? What did they pick for her?”

“Ah, she’s involved in every nonprofit in the Queen City,” he said with a smile. “They named a few of them.”

“Oh.” Her ladylike expression slipped away for a moment, and Lacey curled up her face in reaction until she caught herself. “I suppose you’ll be escorting her to the gala?”

Will considered how to answer. “I don’t know, really.”

“Well, it’s not like she has many other options,” she speculated. “I mean, the poor girl doesn’t exactly keep them around for more than a date or two, does she? And for something like this—a formal evening and all—”

“She’s been seeing someone new, actually.” He didn’t know why he felt so compelled to jump to her defense, but Lacey’s catty remarks about Julianne’s inability to snag a good man had started to become rather legendary. And Will didn’t like it.

“Really.” He watched as Lacey’s wheels turned, but what came next caught him by complete surprise. “Then would you be willing to escort me to the gala, William?”

He took another bite of orange chicken as a short reprieve before answering.

“Can I get back to you on that?”

Dean and Maureen Alden’s quaint two-story home sat on a small parcel of land punctuated by a slight grade in the front.

Not even enough of a slant for kids on sleds to pick up any real speed, Julianne thought as they pulled up out front. But even if they could, the closeness of the street at the bottom of the descent would make sledding impractical.

“You’re measuring sledability again, aren’t you?” Will asked as he pushed the doorbell.

How did he always do that?

“I give it a 2-rating,” she replied. “Too close to the street.”

Will shook his head and grinned as the front door opened, nudging the brushed nickel knocker to rap lightly.

“Hey, you two!” Pastor Dean greeted them. “Come on in.”

Maureen served glasses of iced tea on a bamboo serving tray as they all sat around the glossy dining room table. She straightened the floral centerpiece and set down a plate of butter cookies.

Will’s favorites.

He reached for a cookie and thanked her as he plopped it into his mouth.

“So I’m hoping I know why you wanted to see me,” Pastor Dean said with a sly grin. “Why don’t you tell me if I’m right.”

Julianne and Will exchanged perplexed attempts at smiles.

“It’s about Emily,” Will told him, and Dean belted out a laugh.

“Oh! Well, I wasn’t even close.”

Maureen emerged from the kitchen. “Our granddaughter, Emily? Can I sit down with you then?”

“Please,” Will said, waving her into the room.

Once his wife had settled beside him, Dean sighed. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I guess you know that Rand Winters—”

Maureen wrinkled her nose and groaned loudly at the mention of his name.

“—accidentally shot Emily’s pet pig last week.”

“Accidental!” Maureen exclaimed. “That’s not the version Emily and her father told when she sat right here at this table in hysterics.” Dean pressed his wife’s hand with his own, and she touched her lips with two fingers. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

“I used to work with Rand,” Julianne told them, “when I was at the public defender’s office. I know better than anyone what a challenging man he can be. But Rand isn’t the kind of person who would do something like this on purpose. He is so sorry for what happened. He feels just terrible.” When her conscience poked at her, she clarified. “You know. As terrible as he can feel, he … feels it.”

One look from Will told her she wasn’t helping at all, and Julianne leaned back against the chair and sighed.

“Rand is concerned,” Will picked up from there, “that this accident is gaining momentum that can adversely affect his reputation.”

“You mean that people will find out he shot a young girl’s pet?” Dean asked.

“Well, frankly,” Will replied, “yes.”

“And what are you looking for from us?” he asked, glancing from Will to Julianne.

“Well, I was hoping we could start with finding some way to put a lid on the smear campaign.”

“What smear campaign?”

Julianne pulled the pink flyer out of her bag and unfolded it, straightening the creases against the edge of the oak table. She handed Will the paper, and he laid it out in front of them. Maureen’s eyes grew wide and glossy, and the corner of Dean’s mouth quivered.

“Did Em make this?” he asked.

“She’s put up dozens of them in their neighborhood,” Julianne expounded. “She’s left them on parked cars, even handed them to people coming out of Kroger.”

After a long moment of silence, Dean sighed. “She’s a very passionate girl. And that pot-bellied pig of hers was …”

“Part of the family,” Julianne said with him in unison.

“Yes,” Dean confirmed.

“We know,” she told him. “But we’re hoping you can help us come up with something that will make this right enough that Emily will stop the … umm … counterattack.”

Maureen’s expression told Julianne that they weren’t going to get any constructive assistance from her. In fact, she might have gotten an idea from Emily’s flyer, might have started wondering how to make one of her own.

“I think an apology might have gone a long way,” she said, her face tilted slightly upward. “Frank says the man never even said he was sorry.”

“So do you think if he goes over to the house and makes a heartfelt plea for Emily’s forgiveness … do you think that will put this to rest?” Will asked her.

“I think that would be up to Emily.”

“But it certainly couldn’t hurt,” Pastor Dean added.

Will and Julianne decided to walk the few blocks from the office to Taqueria Mercado, and Julianne slipped her arm through Will’s as they trekked up Walnut and crossed Seventh.

“Are you ready for your big date tomorrow?” Will asked, and her heart fluttered like the wings of a dozen butterflies trapped in her chest.

“So ready. Although the reality of it started to close in on me around three o’clock this morning.”

“What reality is that? The one where you’ve accepted a date with a perfect stranger based on a toolbox and a work boot sitting in the road? Or the one where you notice that the chasm between your Once Upon a Time and your Happily Ever After is murky and gray?”

“Yes,” she stated. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she let out a burst of tension by way of a snort and a laugh.

“I have a date of my own tomorrow night. Maybe we should make it a double.”

Julianne’s fluttering heart went eerily still. She stopped in her tracks, yanking Will by the arm as she did.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Foot cramp again? I don’t know why you insist on wearing those heels, Jules. They can’t be good for—”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “You have a date?”

He grinned at her and tipped his head to the side as he admitted, “Yeah. I have a date. Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”

“Do tell.”

“Alison Reece. Beth Rudd’s sister.”

Her conversation with Beth in the ladies’ room at Vandella’s skittered across Julianne’s memory.

“I was thinking of setting up Will and my younger sister, Alison. You remember, you met her at the Christmas pageant?”

She’d asked Julianne if she minded. What else could Julianne have said? She had no claim on Will, then or now, or ever. It did cross her mind now though whether it might be too late to file an appeal.

“The schoolteacher,” she muttered. Tightening the loop of their arms, she squeezed and forced a smile. “That’s so great.”

Pulling him along, she continued the stroll up Walnut.

“Really?” he said. “You think it’s great?”

“Of course,” she replied without looking away from the crosswalk ahead of them. “Don’t you?”

“Well, let’s face it. I haven’t had a date in a pretty long time. And it’s not like I know much of anything about this girl. We might be pathetically ill-suited to one another.”

She mustered up the encouragement she knew Will sought. “Or you might be soul mates. You never know until you spend a couple of hours getting to know each other.”

“Soul mates,” Will muttered, shaking his head. “Is that what you think the ditch digger is? Your soul mate?”

“He is not a ditch digger,” she said, smacking his arm. “He’s a carpenter. Like Jesus.”

“Really?” he challenged. “You really want to go there and compare him to Jesus, Jules?”

“Yeah.” She tilted her head upward and apologized. “Sorry, Lord.” Her eyes darting back to Will, she added, “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

“And by the way,” she continued. “He could be my soul mate.” When Will didn’t reply, she repeated, “He could be.”

Will’s silence closed the gap between the corner of Eighth Street and the front entrance of Taqueria Mercado. “Here we are.”

She spotted Rand Winters at a small table. “Over there.”

Will placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward him. “Rand,” he said as they reached the table, “thanks for coming.”

“I ordered a round,” Rand told them, “and a little something to nosh on.”

“A round of what?” Julianne asked him.

“Yes, Julianne,” he mocked, “I remembered that you don’t drink alcoholic beverages. They’re bringing a pitcher of virgin sangria for the two of you. A beer and a shot for me. Now tell me what you found out about this pig nightmare.”

Oh, he is just so unlikable! she thought, taking a deep and bracing breath before answering.

The waiter set a platter of quesadillas next to the chips and salsa already there. He carefully unloaded drinks from the tray and asked, “Anything else right now?”

“No,” Will replied. “Thanks very much.”

Rand grabbed the shot glass and raised it in a toast. “To good news, if you don’t mind,” and he downed the tequila in two gulps.

“We talked to Pastor Dean, the girl’s grandfather,” Julianne began.

“Did you get anywhere?”

“That all depends on your perception, I guess,” Will told him as Rand sucked on a wedge of lime. “How do you feel about apologizing to an eleven-year-old?”

“Apologizing.” Rand spoke the word as if it had been dipped in spoiled milk before crossing his lips.

“Yes, Rand. Apologize,” Julianne said. “It’s the act of saying you’re sorry for picking up a gun, cocking it, and sending her little pig instantly to its grave.”

“That pig was not little.”

“It might be your only hope of settling things with her,” Will added.

Rand took several swigs from his beer and smacked the glass on the table. “So if I hold my hat in my hands and say I’m sorry, the little terror will stop with the flyers?”

“We can’t guarantee that. But it’s a good start.”

He stuffed a quesadilla wedge into his mouth and spoke while he chewed it. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” He stood up, downing the rest of his beer. “I’ll go across the lawn in the morning and give it a shot.”

“Try to express some kindness,” Julianne suggested. On second thought, she added, “You do have some of that, don’t you?”

Rand contorted his face into a balled fist.

“I just mean … don’t railroad her. Kids are very perceptive.”

He plunked the glass to the table with a shrug. “Whatever. I’ll call you when it’s done, and we’ll see where we are.”

Julianne’s eyes met Will’s and locked there as Rand left the restaurant.

“He’s a piece of work,” Will declared.

“Credit where credit’s due,” she replied. “He’s a piece and a half, at the very least.”

“He is that.”

“He’s just so hard to … like!”

“But if the Rands of the world didn’t cross our paths,” he began, and Julianne grinned.

“How would we learn to love the unlovable!” she finished for him.

“Dinner while we’re here?” he asked her.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered with a chuckle.

Once they’d both ordered and the meals had been served, Julianne leaned back against the chair, both hands wrapped around her chilled glass, and grinned at Will.

“So tell me more about your date with Alison. Where are you taking her?”

“Riding, up at Alec’s place.”

“She rides?”

“Since she was a kid. She actually used to compete.”

“Compete. Really.”

Julianne started to wonder if the fruit in the sangria hadn’t agreed with her, and she pressed her hand to the top of her burning stomach.

“You okay?” Will asked.

“Too many taquitos,” she teased. With an added chuckle, she admitted, “I actually think it’s the sangria. It’s very fruity.”

“Order an iced tea.”

“I think I will.” She shook her head and gulped. “So … horseback riding. Then what? Out to dinner?”

“Sunset picnic on the ridge, I think.”

“Nice,” she said, nodding.

“What about you? Where’s the ditch di—” He stopped himself. “The carpenter. Where’s he taking you?”

“He didn’t say. We’re meeting first … at The Blind Lemon.”

“In Mt. Adams?”

“Yes. And I guess we’ll decide from there.”

“You’re meeting him? Why isn’t he picking you up?”

“He’s working in Clifton for the day, so it just seemed easier for me to meet him.”

Will shook his head. “No horse-drawn carriage. A shame.”

“The horses and glass carriage come later, smarty pants,” she informed him. “Right before the Happily Ever After.”

“Ah.” Will grinned as he stabbed a couple of rogue onions and green pepper strips from his plate and poked them into his mouth. “Thanks for the lesson.”

“William? Is that you?”

Julianne looked up and spotted Lacey and her thousand-dollar dazzling-white smile heading straight for them.

“Here comes my pesky wicked stepsister now,” she mumbled.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she drawled in her questionable Southern drawl. “I’ve never even been to this place before, and I decide to stop in for some dinner, and here you are!”

“Here we are,” Julianne corrected. “I’m here, too.”

Her eyes grazed over Julianne without comment before she leaned down and smacked a kiss on Will’s cheek, leaving its bright red form behind.

Like a lipstick chalk drawing around a corpse.

“Can I join you?” she asked Will, grabbing a napkin and wiping the lipstick from his face.

“Well, we’re just finishing up,” he told her. “But we can sit with you while you have something.”

“Delightful,” she sang, and Julianne watched her slither down into the chair beside him. “You know, Julie, there’s no reason for you to stay. If you want to be on your way, William and I can just—”

“Oh, no!” she interrupted. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving. Besides, we haven’t ordered dessert.”

“Ooh, dessert.” Turning toward Will, Lacey asked, “What’s delicious here for a sweet tooth?”

Julianne raised one eyebrow, glanced at Will, and slid a menu across the table toward Lacey. “Here. Have a look.”

Love the unlovable, she reminded herself. Love the unlovable. Love the unlovable.