Of course Emily didn’t make a third date with Matt. Every time she was tempted, she forced herself to look at the yarn bonfire in the center of her store. People who played with matches got burned.
Sure, she’d felt something for him, standing by her poor little Fiesta up there on the mountain. It had been dark. And cold. And before he’d arrived, she really had despaired that she would ever loosen the freaking lug nuts.
Her reaction had been based on sheer relief. Hormones, plain and simple. The full moon.
Oh. There hadn’t been a full moon. There hadn’t been any moon at all; that’s why the road had been so dark, why she’d almost hit the buck in the first place.
In any case, it had been a hell of a lot easier to ignore Matt after she saw the Halloween ad he placed in The Herald. Maybe Rachel couldn’t have laid out the paper any other way. After all, there was only a limited amount of advertising space. The four pages of the daily had to cover a lot of other information—the school lunch menu and the shuttle schedule for Jefferson Manor. Horoscopes to keep Mrs. McCall happy. Notices from the county agricultural extension. Birth announcements and obituaries and reports on Harmony Springs kids who were doing well at college or in the military. Actual news if there was any.
So Rachel probably had had no choice when she put the Save Our Stores ad below the fold on page two, staring right at Matt’s announcement on page three. That’s what she tried to tell herself, over and over and over again.
Her ad had featured her hand-drawn ghost and witch, the clean lines guaranteed to make anyone smile. His had some sort of cheap clip-art, the sort of stuff that was free everywhere on the Internet. She’d hand-lettered the logo for Save Our Stores, featuring the type of expressive scrollwork all sorts of hipster artists were using on trendy letterpress notecards. He’d pulled up some generic font on his computer. She’d made her ad personal, inviting customers to share in tradition, to enjoy all the quality Harmony Springs had to offer. He’d emphasized uniformity, drowning his potential customers in pure, undifferentiated quantity.
She’d offered a five percent discount. He’d offered ten.
It was hard to say who came out ahead. But Emily couldn’t help noticing a distressing number of store-bought costumes in the Halloween Parade. There were too many rigid plastic masks, too many polyester princess gowns, too many sculpted foam rubber superheroes.
At least Noah had been adorable, in his black pants and black turtleneck, turned into a bumblebee with stripes of yellow-painted masking tape. Emily had beaten her own record at speed-crocheting, fashioning a pair of wire-framed wings that slipped over his shoulders and a black bonnet that snapped under his chin, guaranteeing that two antennae would bob over his forehead for the entire night of trick-or-treating.
Everyone was still exclaiming over his costume at Yoga Night, the Monday after Halloween. Emily helped herself to a Fun Size pack of M&Ms as she said, “It wasn’t anything, really.”
“You should teach classes,” Lexi Taylor said, tearing open a package of strawberry-flavored Twizzlers. The red licorice matched the Christmas holly printed on her long skirt. “That might bring in customers on a regular basis.”
Emily made a face. “I offer classes every month, but I can’t get enough people to sign up to make it worthwhile. I end up delivering yarn to Theresa’s best customers, the Horton sisters, and doing one-on-ones with them.” To illustrate she held up the grey heathered sweater she’d begun to knit the last time she’d visited with Dolores and Joyce. The cables on the front were knitting up more slowly than she’d expected. That’s what she got for adding to her stitch count.
After everyone had oohed and aahed over the design, Anne turned to Lexi. “You’ve got it made,” she said to her best friend. “For the next two months, The Christmas Cat is going to be the most successful store on Main Street.”
Lexi shrugged. “I don’t know. We had a really soft summer.”
Megan Sartain held up a hand, reserving the right to comment. The lawyer had to wait, though, until she was through chewing the Milk Duds in her mouth. She washed down the caramel with a healthy slug of wine before she said, “I know this won’t make any difference for Lexi. She sells Christmas stuff year-round. But what about the rest of you? Maybe it’s time to change the rules. Maybe it’s time to start selling Christmas stuff before Thanksgiving.”
Predictably the room exploded into protests. They couldn’t do that. They couldn’t break with tradition. Harmony Springs had always waited until December to roll out the Christmas decorations and holiday sales. That’s what they were known for.
Megan shrugged. “I know all that. And I understand it. I really do. But if the rest of the world doesn’t care anymore, if everyone else wants Christmas in November—”
“October,” Emily said.
“September,” Olivia Park countered. “When I bought classroom art supplies in September, they already had red and green glitter displays.”
Megan spread her hands expansively. “My point exactly. That’s what the world expects. So maybe we should give it to them.”
Heather March said, “Isn’t that what American Discount is for? To give the world the worst of what it wants?” Emily raised her glass to salute the librarian.
Tammy unfolded her knees from her lotus pose and rose from her chair. “Heather has a point,” she said, rotating her neck with perfect patience. Only after she’d completed a full circuit did she say, “As my second husband used to say, ‘Money’s like shit. It flows downhill.’”
“What does that even mean?” Anne asked.
Tammy shrugged. “I don’t know. He was an auditor for the IRS. He never made sense when he talked about work.”
Emily shook her head. Tammy quoted her ex-husbands whenever she needed outside support for her conversational points. Her first marriage had been to a guru, and he was responsible for most of Tammy’s deep thoughts about spiritual balance, particularly the second chakra’s need for unfettered sexual energy. Her second husband, the auditor, let Tammy proclaim financial truths. Her third husband had been a real estate agent, and it was surprising just how often Tammy needed to share wisdom about buying and selling property. Her gynecologist fourth husband gave Tammy a line on all things medical. And Tammy never mentioned her fifth husband. Ever.
Emily said, “I don’t think we should be forfeiting what makes Harmony Springs special. Instead, we should advertise it. Promote ourselves. You know, tell people that visiting us is like visiting a foreign country.”
Heather pounced on that idea. “It’s like the reading program I set up last summer! I gave each kid a passport. They collected stamps for each genre they visited. At the end of the summer, I gave a prize to the kid who’d traveled the farthest, the one who got the most stamps.”
“Passport to Harmony Springs,” Emily said, already picturing the promotional materials. “I like it.”
“We don’t have a Visitor’s Center, nothing official,” Heather said, clearly warming to the idea. “But we could hand out the passports at City Hall. People could turn them in when they leave and get prizes if they’ve visited five or more stores. The awards don’t have to be anything big—a pen, maybe, or a notepad. Something that lists all the stores in SOS.”
“I don’t know,” Lexi said. “Most cidiots don’t go anywhere near City Hall.”
But Emily had the answer. “Tourists can pick up and turn in a passport at any store in the Central Business District. Each SOS member will have a stock of prizes. Maybe some sticky notes, shaped like an apple? The passport itself can just be a printed piece of paper, and we can hand out rubber stamps to all the store owners.”
“Or stickers!” Anne laughed like a little kid. “Who doesn’t like stickers? We don’t even have to get them printed—just buy some apple stickers wholesale.”
“Done!” Emily said, setting down her plastic cup with the finality of an auctioneer’s gavel. “And that concludes this special rump session of Save Our Stores! Match that, American Discount!”
“Speaking of which…” Rachel said with a leer.
“Don’t start,” Emily warned.
“Oooh,” Olivia cooed. “It sounds like there’s a story there.”
“No story,” Emily said. She set aside the grey sweater to dig into the massive bowl of candy, taking her time to find a Mary Jane taffy. She had no choice but to concentrate on unwrapping the sticky wax paper.
“That’s not what I heard,” Megan said. “My mother heard from Mona Benedetti that Maureen McCall said you went out with Simon. Dinner at the Carlisle.” Her lilt on the last two syllables managed to make a steak dinner sound positively filthy.
“Isn’t that hearsay, counselor?” Emily muttered.
“Don’t you even try to practice law without a license.” Megan leaned forward and took the Mary Jane out of Emily’s hand. “Just make your confession. Come on. How goes the birthday dare?”
“Wait a second,” Olivia said. “I thought Matt Dawson was the birthday dare. Wasn’t he the first unmarried guy at the bar?”
“Yeah,” Rachel drawled, painting an expression of perfect innocence on her face as she turned to Emily. “Wasn’t Matt the birthday dare?”
Emily sighed. “Yes, Matt was the birthday dare.” She held up her hand, putting an instant stop to her friends’ speculation. “And we went out on a first date at the Orchard Diner.” Anne curtseyed to a round of applause. “Which turned out to be a complete and utter disaster. There wasn’t any second date.” Rachel perked up, ready to ask a question, so Emily repeated in a dire tone, “There wasn’t any second date.”
“So what about Simon?” Megan asked.
Emily shook her head. “No second date there, either.” A groan went up from the crowd. “Come on, ladies! I tried. I asked him out. We spent almost two hours talking. It wasn’t going anywhere, and it would have been cruel for me to lead him on.”
“How’s his mother?” Heather asked with mock innocence.
Emily nodded to the librarian as if she’d just completed a complex research assignment. “Exactly.”
“Okay,” Rachel said. “You’re off the hook with Simon. But you still failed to meet the terms of the dare. I’ve never known you to be a quitter.”
The Purr roared to life at the back of Emily’s mind. “I’m not a quitter!”
“I’m just saying. You made us a promise. And from where I’m sitting, it looks like you went on one date with Simon. And one date with Matt.”
“Or maybe two,” Anne said helpfully.
“One,” Emily said through gritted teeth.
“One plus one does not equal three in any universe,” Rachel said. “It seems like some sort of penalty is in order.”
“I know!” Anne said, bouncing in her seat. “You could go on four dates with the next guy!”
“I don’t think there’s going to be a next guy.”
“I know someone,” Olivia said.
“Who?” came a chorus of six voices.
“My cousin. He just bought a house on Jackson Street, out by the hospital. He’s the new night doctor for the emergency room.”
“Seriously, guys,” Emily said, as everyone started crowing over what a perfect find Olivia’s doctor-cousin would be. “I think this is a really bad idea.”
Tammy favored them all with a beatific smile. “My fourth husband, the gynecologist, learned more about a woman’s body in medical school…”
“Ew,” Olivia said, looking up from the screen of her phone. “No offense, Tammy, but the last thing Emily wants is to think about on a first date is her feet up in stirrups.”
“No offense taken,” Tammy said serenely.
“There,” Olivia said. “It’s all set.”
“What’s all set?” Emily roared.
“Your first date with Carter. You’re meeting him at Mona’s tomorrow. At eight, so he doesn’t mess up his night-shift schedule.”
“I don’t want to meet him at Mona’s tomorrow!”
Rachel clicked her tongue as she shook her head. “You’re the one who took the dare. And you’re the one who slipped up in October. Time to take your medicine, like a good girl.” She managed to make medicine sound like some exotic sex position.
Emily could have argued. She could have refused. But she knew these women; they were almost like sisters. Anne was her sister. If Emily didn’t settle up on the dare now, it would only come back to haunt her later. Besides, the Purr was nudging her, complaining that she really had slacked off on her obligations.
“Fine,” she said. “Four dates with Carter in November. But I go back to three dates for the rest of the year.”
Rachel nodded. “Unless you and Carter hit it off. Who knows? You could be married by your thirty-first birthday.”
“Right,” Emily said. Because it was easier to agree than to fight the forces of Yoga Night. She shoved the grey sweater back into her bag and helped herself to another glass of wine, telling herself she deserved it for being such a good sport.
~~~
Emily glanced up at the ancient clock that poked out of the side of Farmer’s Trust. 8:12. She’d outdone herself—less than fifteen minutes late getting to Mona’s for her date with Olivia’s cousin. She was reaching for the doorknob when the door swung toward her. A man rushed out, tightening his scarf around the neck of his camel hair coat. Clearly exasperated, he stepped to the side to hold the door for her.
Emily knew she shouldn’t stereotype. But the man was Asian, and there weren’t a lot of Asians in Harmony Springs. And he shot his coat sleeve to check his watch while he waited for her to enter, as if he’d been waiting for someone before he gave up. And Gio was waving at her from the host stand, pointing at the man and smiling, offering her a generous thumbs-up.
“Excuse me,” she said, before the guy could get away. “Are you Carter Park?”
He stopped abruptly. “Yes.”
Not the best beginning of a conversation, but she’d take what she could get. He deserved to be a little annoyed by her tardiness. She extended her hand. “Emily Barton. I’m so sorry I’m late.”
This guy had the opposite of a poker face. She could read every thought that flickered across his mind. You should be sorry, he was thinking. My time is valuable. I’ve already decided to leave.
But in the end, some basic politeness won out. He sighed and shifted his weight, letting her slip past him into the restaurant.
Gio greeted her like she was a long-lost relative. “Bella!” he exclaimed, holding her hand and kissing her on both cheeks. “It’s been so long! You and your young man are so kind to grace us with your presence for dinner!”
It was a little much, but everything about Gio was always a little much. Emily laughed as the host swept them to the front of the restaurant. Of course it was inevitable that he seated them at the table in the window. Good for business, showing the trattoria had customers.
“Sit, sit, sit!” Gio said. “And tell me, what can I get you to drink?”
Things must have been going well in the Benedetti bedroom. Usually, Gio took the opportunity to tell customers all the ways his wife was ruining the business of running a restaurant. Tit for tat, of course, because Mona never failed to regale diners about Gio’s own faults. The couple’s marriage had only survived for thirty-five years because they traded off nights at their respective eateries. Gio’s was open on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. Mona’s was open on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. They took off Mondays, to visit their grandchildren up in Frederick.
Emily relaxed in her stylish upholstered chair. “How about a cider?” she asked.
Gio beamed. “I have just the thing for you! My Mona, she’s making a cider bellini for the season.”
“Perfect.”
“And for you?” Gio asked, turning toward Carter. “What can I get you from the bar?”
“Soda water,” Carter said. “No ice.”
Of course he wasn’t drinking. He was a doctor, set to go on shift in just a couple of hours. It would be irresponsible for him to consume any alcohol.
And he probably didn’t know that Mona took great pride in her list of mocktails, changing them religiously, every season. Mona always said that expectant mothers shouldn’t have to get bored with healthy choices. Mona was a big fan of motherhood. A big fan of motherhood and everything leading up to it—courtship and dating and fun nights out on the town.
It was no wonder Gio looked a little perplexed, but he jotted the order down on his well-worn pad. “I’ll let you look at the menu, then.” He waved ostentatiously toward the blackboard displayed beside the sleek bar. A dozen dishes were described there, complete with ingredient lists and prices.
Emily grinned when she saw her favorite—a buratta salad with arugula and balsamic. “Everything’s good here,” she said. “People usually order three of the small plates. Four if they’re really hungry.”
Carter said, “I’ll stick with one. This is like my breakfast, given my shifted schedule.”
Right. The guy was just waking up. Emily had to give him credit for even scheduling a dinner date. She shouldn’t point out that a lot of people ate large breakfasts—most important meal of the day and all that.
But would a doctor agree that breakfast was the most important meal? What if Carter simply preferred eggs to whatever charming Italian dishes Mona had crafted?
Emily should make her excuses and get out of the restaurant now. She could be home, in yoga pants, planted in front of her TV in less than ten minutes. She had plenty of knitting she could be working on—samples for the store, her new grey sweater.
But—the Purr whispered before she could push away from the table—a dare was a dare. Emily had to make this date work. The last thing she wanted was the Yoga Night crew assigning her five dates for the month of December.
At least Gio seemed to be on her side—he brought her bellini before she could excavate a conversational topic. She touched the lip of her glass to Carter’s fizzing soda water before she said, “So. Olivia said you work at the hospital? How long have you been a doctor?”
Carter took a cautious sip before he centered his glass on his coaster. “I graduated from medical school three years ago. I just finished a residency at Bellevue, in New York. This is my first full-time job.”
“And you’re in charge of the emergency room? That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“It’s not exactly a Level One trauma center.”
Uh-huh. Maybe Carter had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Or maybe he’d hoped to work at a Level One trauma center, but had been bounced because of his surly disposition. And maybe work wasn’t the best subject for a first-date conversation.
“I hope you didn’t have trouble parking,” Emily said, gesturing out the window. “Lately, it’s been tough to find spaces. A lot of people are blaming the apartments that just opened above the Antique Mall on Main.”
Carter gave a terse shake of his head. “I just parked in the public lot.”
“Excuse me?” Emily asked. Harmony Springs didn’t have a public lot. That had been the subject of endless town hall meetings, because the city didn’t have enough money to buy any of the available plots of land, and the financially precarious businesses were terrified of a special tax assessment. Of course, Carter had no way of knowing that. Not if he’d just arrived in town.
“The public lot,” he said. “Just past the American Discount.”
Just past the American Discount was an overgrown lot that belonged to the cookie factory. Baked Rite had bought it twenty years ago, with plans on opening an outlet store to sell all the cookies with packaging that hadn’t printed up in perfect alignment. Their quality control, though, was high enough that the in-town store had never made fiscal sense. Every time the lot was mentioned in a town meeting, Baked Rite said they had no plans to sell. They wanted to keep their options open.
But Emily was willing to bet they’d made a deal for a generous buyer. A very generous buyer, whose goal was to win at all costs.
Before Emily could pump Carter for more information about signs or parking meters or anything that would confirm Matt had worked a deal behind the town’s back, Gio came over to take their order. “Did you see anything on the board that looks interesting tonight?”
Carter made a tight hand gesture, indicating Emily should go first. “I’ll have the burrata, she said. And the gnocchi amatriciana.” She hesitated for just a moment before she added, “And the salsiccia platter.”
“And for you?” Gio asked with an ingratiating smile.
“The spinach.”
“And what else?”
“That’s it.”
Just… Spinach? Gio looked as confused as Emily felt, but he braved another smile before he headed back to the kitchen.
Carter looked at her, defensive gleam in his eye. “The alkaloids in spinach are good for the liver. They’re a good start to the day.”
Of course. Spinach for breakfast. She’d have to try that some time. For now, though, she dove back into the search for a decent conversational topic. “Where did you go to medical school?”
“Hawthorn University. In Dominica. But it’s not a second class medical school, if you make sure to take classes with the right professors.”
Okay… So medical school wasn’t going to be a good topic either. “Where did you grow up?”
“Los Angeles.”
“I’ve never been there!”
“There isn’t much to see.”
And things went downhill from there. Carter didn’t have any pets. He hadn’t read any good books lately. The weather was surprisingly cold for this time of year. He didn’t have time for any hobbies. He had one brother, older, but they weren’t really close.
And through it all, as Emily reached further and further for something—anything—he might enjoy, he never once asked her a question. Not about anything—her job, her family, the lifetime she’d spent in Harmony Springs. It wasn’t like she needed to be the center of attention, but basic politeness said he should reciprocate with a question at least once.
By the time Gio came by with dessert menus, she was desperate to get away. “No,” she said with a slightly manic laugh. “No time for dessert! No dessert for breakfast!” And she handed Gio her credit card, so he could process their check immediately.
Mona peered out from the kitchen as Emily and Carter headed out the door. Emily twisted around to wave a greeting. At Mona’s thunderous glare, Emily shrugged. She pointed discretely at Carter and looped a finger near her own ear. He was crazy. That was the only explanation.
Outside the restaurant, he reached out to shake her hand. “Oh no,” she said breezily. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“There’s no need.”
“I want to!” And she did. But not because she wanted to spend another minute with Carter Park. She had to see the new public lot. When the good doctor gave her a strange look, she said, “I need to walk off some of this dinner. It’s not healthy to sleep on a full stomach, is it?”
He couldn’t argue with that.
After three short blocks, they stood beside his car. Emily didn’t bother noting the make or model. She was too overwhelmed with the fumes of freshly-poured asphalt, with the shimmer of white stripes newly painted to define spaces. A large blue sign stood on the street, a block-letter P providing the universal sign for parking.
No meters. No pay box.
“Thank you, Emily,” Carter said. She jumped a little, because she’d already forgotten he was there. “I had a wonderful time. I’d love to see you again. Maybe tomorrow night?”
He had to be kidding, right? “Um, I’m babysitting my nephew tomorrow. In fact, I’m pretty busy for the next few weeks, with Thanksgiving coming up, and then the holiday season at the store.”
“Store?”
Right. He had no idea where she worked. “Harmony Skeins. It’s a yarn store on Main Street.” She held out her hand and met his with a firm shake. “Welcome to town,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends in no time.”
She cringed a little, feeling terrible for brushing him off. But there was that non-poker face again. Carter was clearly surprised, for at least a heartbeat. Insulted, for another split second. But then he settled on relief—he was just as pleased as she was that they wouldn’t need to write act two of this farce. Walking back to the street, Emily felt absolved.
Curiosity got the better of her as she stared at the American Discount. She’d spent the past month fighting the store, and she hadn’t yet set foot inside it. She didn’t actually have any idea what they stocked.
She moved to the double doors like a little kid crossing a street: Look left, look right, proceed. She cupped her hands around her eyes and leaned forward to peer through the glass.
Everything was locked up for the night. Black bags were fitted over the two registers. Service lights glowed at the back of the store, just enough for her to make out the flower-shaped yarn display near the entrance. Signs guided shoppers to various aisles—Clothing, Housewares, Decor. It all looked clean enough. Neat enough. Sterile enough for Carter to perform emergency surgery on the floor.
“See anything you like?”
She caught a scream against the back of her throat as she leaped back from the door. Matt Dawson reached out a hand to steady her.
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought you heard me come up behind you.”
“I didn’t.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious now.” He held up a ring of keys. “I was just putting the trash in the dumpster out back. Want a tour?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips because that way she could sneak a deep, steadying breath.
“Um, inviting you in to take a look at the enemy?”
“No. I mean about the parking lot.”
He looked confused. “I figured the town needs more parking. You know. So cidiot assholes don’t take your space in front of your shop.”
“So, just like that, you meet the factory’s asking price?”
“We negotiated a bit.” When she didn’t react, he took a step back. “Hey, come on. I thought this was something we could agree on. More parking means more people will come to town. They’ll shop everywhere.”
“After they walk by American Discount.”
“This was the closest undeveloped lot to downtown! What else should I have done, Em?”
“Don’t call me that!” She heard the sharpness in her voice, but she was afraid to correct herself, afraid to apologize. She stood there, feeling embarrassed, ashamed. She wanted to walk away, but she couldn’t back down, couldn’t admit that level of defeat.
“Hey,” he said after a century or two. She flinched as he reached out to wrap a lock of hair around his index finger. She flinched, but she didn’t pull away. She could feel the fine hairs on his finger against the pulse point in her throat. “You didn’t betray him, Em.” She knew he used the nickname on purpose this time. Any last doubt was washed away by the next thing Matt said: “He’s the one who hurt you. He’s the one who should have said he was sorry.”
She bit her lip. Of course Jon hadn’t said he was sorry. Guys didn’t do that. They just did what they wanted to do, what they needed to do, without regard to how it might hurt anyone else.
Jon had. Dad had. She hadn’t stuck around long enough to let any other guy teach her the same lesson.
But she had to say something to Matt now, had to respond to the concern on his face, to the heat that radiated from his hand beside her neck. “I should have tried to work things out,” she whispered. And then she glanced away, because she couldn’t meet his eyes as she admitted her real mistake. “I shouldn’t have fallen for you the same day he dumped me.” She steeled herself and looked back. “I should have tried harder with Jon.”
Matt’s voice was calm. “There wasn’t going to be any ‘working things out’ with you two. Jon had the attention span of a toddler, but he wasn’t as well-behaved.”
She wanted to protest. But there wasn’t anything she could say. Because Matt was right. Jon hadn’t planned on hurting anyone. He’d just tumbled through life, making promises on impulse, breaking them by accident. That was part of his charm. That’s why everyone loved him.
And just like that, her throat ached with all the old emotion, all the stupid, teenage tension she’d shoved down over a decade ago. Because she’d never have a chance to have this conversation with Jon. She’d never have a chance to tell him how she’d felt, how he’d changed her. Jon was gone forever, and there was nothing she could do to make things right. Instead, she sighed and said, “The stupid thing is, I miss him.”
Matt swallowed hard. “We all do.”
He understood. He knew all the things she didn’t say twelve years ago, all the things she didn’t say tonight. He knew Jon was a soldier who’d died for his country, but Jon wasn’t perfect. He was a hero, but he wasn’t a saint.
And that was why she couldn’t stand here. That was why she couldn’t take a single step forward. She couldn’t turn her head to rest her cheek against Matt’s palm. She couldn’t kiss him.
Matt knew too much. He always had.
She took a step back, and a part of her ached when he let her go. “Okay,” she said, after sneaking a steadying breath. “Well, thanks for the parking lot.”
“Any time,” he said dryly.
She shoved her hands in her pockets. “I should get home now.”
“Be safe.”
“I’ve got to get up early to open the store.”
“You don’t want to be late.” He managed to sound utterly sincere, even though she was certain he was teasing her.
She was almost back to Main Street when he called out, “Hey, Em!”
She turned around.
“Did you really fall for me?”
She shook her head, but she couldn’t keep from grinning. He clasped his hands to his heart and staggered back against the American Discount doors, pretending to be mortally wounded.
“You goofball!” she said, laughing out loud. And she walked back to her place, double-time, so she couldn’t change her mind about whatever Matt Dawson had offered up on the doorstep of his store.
~~~
It was almost a week before she had to face the music, before she had to admit her first date of the month was an unmitigated disaster.
Of course, she arrived late to Yoga Night. A part of her hoped that conversation would be in full swing when she got there. Someone else would have the floor. Maybe Lexi had gone out on a date. Was it possible Anne was holding out on her, that her own sister had a secret beau waiting in the wings? Maybe the entire group had turned over a new leaf and vowed to stop talking about men altogether. They were all strong-willed, intelligent, competent women. They had a lot to talk about that didn’t involve the opposite sex. They could discuss Save Our Stores and the new passport initiative. The current deadlock in Congress. Possibilities for peace in the Middle East.
They could even ask Tammy to teach an actual yoga class. Downward dog couldn’t be that hard to master, could it?
Right.
Tammy was playing the role of hostess; she’d provided the wine, along with a thoughtful growler of cider for Emily. Unfortunately, her hospitality allowed her to serve as chief interrogator.
“All right, ladies. Gather ’round. Emily? I think you have something to share?”
Wow. Whatever happened to serene contemplation of the universal whole, or whatever it was Tammy always said?
Emily delayed the inevitable by taking a sip of cider. Maybe she could stretch the truth a little. She could tell everyone that she and Carter had totally hit it off. Next week, she could follow up with an imaginary second date; maybe he’d take her to see the new show at the Harmony Playhouse. Their third date could be a really big deal—dinner down in Winchester and a night at the George Washington Inn. Only after that would she begin to realize they wanted different things out of a relationship. He didn’t want kids, didn’t think he had time to do them justice with the hospital’s crazy demands on his schedule. He really wanted a wife who would stay home, who would run his house, play the corporate wife as he made his big move to break into hospital administration. In a month, Emily could break the news to everyone that it just hadn’t worked out. Carter was a great guy, but in the end, the break-up was mutual. They’d decided to stay friends.
Olivia looked up from the refreshment table. “They barely made it through dinner.”
So much for the beautiful story Emily had just crafted in her head. The Yoga Night crowd knew her too well, anyway. They would have spotted a lie before she got to the first act of whatever was showing at Harmony Playhouse.
“What happened?” Megan asked, her voice rising dramatically, as if she were regaling a jury. “Don’t you women understand? I’m old and married and I’m dying for a vicarious thrill here!”
Emily shrugged. “Sorry.”
Olivia said, “He thought you were really rude for getting there late. And you drink too much. And you might be a candidate for a heart attack, with all the saturated fat in your diet. But he had a really good time.”
Emily stood up to take a bow. “And there you have it, ladies. All my flaws laid out for your consideration.”
Rachel shook her head. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Emily said resignedly. “I have a pretty good idea.”
“You have to find another guy. You still have almost three weeks to fit in your dates. Otherwise, we’ll be looking for five in December.”
“Can’t I just forfeit now?” Emily said. “For November and December. And all the other months until I’m old and decrepit and thirty-one?”
“Where’s your sense of competition?”
Something about the question snapped Emily’s mind back to Matt Dawson. She hadn’t told Yoga Night—or anyone else—about checking out his store after the disastrous date with Carter. She hadn’t told them about joking with him, about the way he’d made her laugh.
And she wasn’t going to.
But Rachel was already looking at her strangely, so she said, “All right. All right. I’ll find me a four-date man before the end of November.” She growled, like she was going after a bear.
Tammy smiled encouragingly. “As my third husband, the real estate agent, always said, ‘You can look for months without finding the right house. But then you walk into one, and you know you have to have it, no matter what.’”
Which would be great advice. If, you know, Emily wanted to buy a house.
“Enough about me,” she said. “The rest of you emotional vampires must have something to share.”
No one had any good man stories. But Heather had read a few good books. And Anne was working on some new pies for the diner. And so another Yoga Night faded away, without anyone in danger of succumbing to a single pulled muscle from Downward Dog or any other position.