Dutch’?”
I’m shocked. I shouldn’t be, but I am. “It means we each pay for our own dinner.”
“Oh, no, I can’t do that.” He insists on paying the bill. Seems his father coached him in the fine art of bill paying and tipping. At least the waitress is one girl Austin took care of tonight.
With his food boxed up, the two of us standing on the street corner, Austin asks, “Where to now?”
I can tell he’s in pain—if not physical, mental.
“Listen, I love hanging around downtown. Why don’t you go on home? I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Are you sure?” He smiles with relief, a beautiful, sweet, empty smile. What a waste.
“I’m sure.” I back away, indicating he doesn’t have to kiss me good-night or tell me he’ll call sometime. I want this night over, cut clean. Done.
“How will you get home?”
“Cab, friend. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way.” I shoo him with my hands. How I’m getting home is a good question. Not sure I thought this one through. Call Lucy, I guess. Oh, man, she’s going to love this.
As he drives away, I chat with the Lord. “Take care of that one. He’s going to need it.”
At the Sun Shoppe Café, I order a large latte and sit outside. It’s a chilly but enchanting night, despite my bomb of a date. I pull my sweater close and sip the hot latte.
The moon is bright and beautiful and all the stars are plugged in and twinkling. All around me the old downtown shops are illuminated with strings of tiny white lights.
Sigh. A night made for lovers and here I sit, kissing a coffee cup.
In the chronicle of bad dates, tonight has to rank among the worst. An inductee into the Hall of Fame of Worst Dates Ever. And it happened to me, Macy Moore. I decide to dial up the sisters.
First Lucy. “I’m at the Sun Shoppe.”
“How’s it going?”
“Not.”
“What?”
“Austin went home to his mommy.”
“No-o-o.” She almost hyperventilates begging for details.
“Meet me down here. I’ll give you every last juicy tidbit.”
She hesitates. “I’m sorta in the middle of something.”
“The middle of what?” Is it me or has she been acting strange lately?
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Don’t use my line on me. What are you in the middle of?”
“I guess I could come down there if you really need me.”
“Your enthusiasm overwhelms me.”
“Macy, I—”
“Never mind. Do whatever it is you’re doing. I’ll catch a cab home.”
“A cab. No, I’ll come get you.”
“Lucy, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Call if you need me.”
I just did. Look where it got me. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
I tap my phone against my palm, deciding what to do next. I dial Adriane. “Darling, I’m up to my eyeballs in edits. They are due next week and my heroine took a wrong turn in the jungle on page 102.”
“Well, then, better rescue her.”
“How’d the date go?” she asks, hurried.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Yes, lunch after church. Pray I wake up in time for services.”
I grin. “Will do.”
She hangs up without a goodbye. Next I call Tamara, to find she’s at work.
“On a Saturday night?” I make a face.
“IT upgraded the computers and I want to make sure everything is working before Monday morning. We’re near the quarter’s end.”
Well, aren’t we a pitiful lot. Two of the SSS are working, one is recovering from a bad date and the other…who knows—up to something dubious.
“Macy? Hello.”
I look around. Oh crud, it’s handsome Dan emerging from the shadows with Perfect Woman. Another sophisticated-looking couple follows them.
“Hi, Dan.” I stand to shake his hand.
“You remember Delia.” He motions to Perfect Woman.
“Certainly.” I give a little half wave and a nod. “Nice to see you.”
She smiles. “And you.” I squint at her in the glow of the Sun Shoppe’s lights. Nope, still no visible imperfections.
Dan introduces the other couple. “This is my boss, Quentin Harper, and his wife,
I’m shocked. I shouldn’t be, but I am. “It means we each pay for our own dinner.”
“Oh, no, I can’t do that.” He insists on paying the bill. Seems his father coached him in the fine art of bill paying and tipping. At least the waitress is one girl Austin took care of tonight.
With his food boxed up, the two of us standing on the street corner, Austin asks, “Where to now?”
I can tell he’s in pain—if not physical, mental.
“Listen, I love hanging around downtown. Why don’t you go on home? I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Are you sure?” He smiles with relief, a beautiful, sweet, empty smile. What a waste.
“I’m sure.” I back away, indicating he doesn’t have to kiss me good-night or tell me he’ll call sometime. I want this night over, cut clean. Done.
“How will you get home?”
“Cab, friend. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way.” I shoo him with my hands. How I’m getting home is a good question. Not sure I thought this one through. Call Lucy, I guess. Oh, man, she’s going to love this.
As he drives away, I chat with the Lord. “Take care of that one. He’s going to need it.”
At the Sun Shoppe Café, I order a large latte and sit outside. It’s a chilly but enchanting night, despite my bomb of a date. I pull my sweater close and sip the hot latte.
The moon is bright and beautiful and all the stars are plugged in and twinkling. All around me the old downtown shops are illuminated with strings of tiny white lights.
Sigh. A night made for lovers and here I sit, kissing a coffee cup.
In the chronicle of bad dates, tonight has to rank among the worst. An inductee into the Hall of Fame of Worst Dates Ever. And it happened to me, Macy Moore. I decide to dial up the sisters.
First Lucy. “I’m at the Sun Shoppe.”
“How’s it going?”
“Not.”
“What?”
“Austin went home to his mommy.”
“No-o-o.” She almost hyperventilates begging for details.
“Meet me down here. I’ll give you every last juicy tidbit.”
She hesitates. “I’m sorta in the middle of something.”
“The middle of what?” Is it me or has she been acting strange lately?
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Don’t use my line on me. What are you in the middle of?”
“I guess I could come down there if you really need me.”
“Your enthusiasm overwhelms me.”
“Macy, I—”
“Never mind. Do whatever it is you’re doing. I’ll catch a cab home.”
“A cab. No, I’ll come get you.”
“Lucy, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Call if you need me.”
I just did. Look where it got me. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
I tap my phone against my palm, deciding what to do next. I dial Adriane. “Darling, I’m up to my eyeballs in edits. They are due next week and my heroine took a wrong turn in the jungle on page 102.”
“Well, then, better rescue her.”
“How’d the date go?” she asks, hurried.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Yes, lunch after church. Pray I wake up in time for services.”
I grin. “Will do.”
She hangs up without a goodbye. Next I call Tamara, to find she’s at work.
“On a Saturday night?” I make a face.
“IT upgraded the computers and I want to make sure everything is working before Monday morning. We’re near the quarter’s end.”
Well, aren’t we a pitiful lot. Two of the SSS are working, one is recovering from a bad date and the other…who knows—up to something dubious.
“Macy? Hello.”
I look around. Oh crud, it’s handsome Dan emerging from the shadows with Perfect Woman. Another sophisticated-looking couple follows them.
“Hi, Dan.” I stand to shake his hand.
“You remember Delia.” He motions to Perfect Woman.
“Certainly.” I give a little half wave and a nod. “Nice to see you.”
She smiles. “And you.” I squint at her in the glow of the Sun Shoppe’s lights. Nope, still no visible imperfections.
Dan introduces the other couple. “This is my boss, Quentin Harper, and his wife,
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