Mistletoe Bay by Marcia Evanick Page B

stone if he so much as looked at her. That avoidance, to her way of thinking, showed he was interested.
    Jenni had that fresh, clean-scrubbed appearance of the girl next door that Felicity envied. Not a freckle marred her face, and her thick, long, nearly midnight-black hair had never seen a frizzy day in its life. From a distance, her sister-in-law still looked like a teenager. It was once you were close enough to see the sadness in her gaze that a person realized Jenni wasn’t some college co-ed playing at being some mad scientist while stirring her pots of soap and smelling like vanilla sugar cookies all the time.
    â€œCoop was being polite.” Jenni rolled her eyes.
    â€œBeing polite is when you say, ‘Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.’” She grinned at the look on Jenni’s face. “Being interested is when you help the lovely widow with the dishes once the kids are out of the room.” Poor Jenni—she didn’t stand a chance at finding a boyfriend with Tucker around.
    â€œLovely widow, my butt.” Jenni gave a snort. “I had just finished mopping up the basement floor, if you recall.”
    â€œWhat, you think I didn’t notice that you changed before dinner?” She was the one who’d had to help her mother set the table while Corey climbed all over Sam. “If I’m not mistaken you also applied some lip gloss and ran a brush through your hair.”
    â€œI even took the time to wash my hands to get the stench of basement mildew and Tide detergent off me.” Jenni shook her head. “I think you’re reading more into this than it is, Reds. Cooper Armstrong is just a very nice man who has taken a fancy to your mother’s cooking.” Jenni wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe he’s after Dorothy. Do you think he’ll make a nice stepdad?”
    Felicity was glad she didn’t have any food in her mouth. She would have choked to death. “That would be the day. Mom’s going crazy as it is, with her opening windows and constantly crying at TV commercials. Can you picture her dating, especially a younger man?”
    She tried not to visualize what her fifty-year-old mother would do on a date. “Who would want to take out an old lady having hot flashes?” The mere thought of her mother out on a date was beyond her imagination. It was creepy. Disturbingly creepy.
    â€œShame on you. Dorothy’s not even fifty yet. She’s not old.” Jenni gave her a stern look. “Don’t you think she gets lonely?”
    â€œLonely?” Felicity snorted with laughter. “In that house?” The house had about eleven rooms, and there wasn’t a quiet corner in any of them. Most of the time her mother was begging for peace and quiet so she could enjoy a television show or a book.
    â€œYou know what I mean.” Jenni stopped what she was doing. “Don’t you ever wonder why she doesn’t date?”
    â€œFirst off, someone would have to ask her out.” Felicity couldn’t imagine that possibility. “Second, she’s a grandmother. Grannies don’t date. They bake cookies and knit sweaters.”
    â€œYour mother doesn’t knit, and of course they date.” Jenni laughed and shook her head. “You can’t be that naive, Reds. And just for your information, I know for a fact that Dorothy has been asked out.”
    â€œBy who?”
    â€œJoe Clayton.” Jenni smiled.
    â€œWho’s Joe Clayton? And more important, what planet was he from?”
    â€œHe owns the garage on the outskirts of town. Your mom had to drop her car off there for a brake job last month. I witnessed the whole exchange. Joe asked her to dinner.”
    â€œMom said no, right?” Surely she would have noticed her mother going out on a date.
    â€œRight.” Jenni started labeling the next box of soap. “When she picked up the car the next day, Mr. Clayton asked her to go to a