Too Good to Be True by Kristan Higgins Page B

I smooched withered cheeks and received gentle pats from soft, loving hands, I couldn’t help the hope that prickled in my chest. Dave and Grace. Gracie and Dave. As early as tonight, I might meet The One. I’d go into Rex Java’s, our eyes would meet, he’d slosh his coffee as he stood up to greet me, flustered and, dare I say, a little bit dazzled. One look and we’d just know. Six months from now, we’d be planning our wedding. He’d cook me breakfast on Saturday mornings, and we’d take long walks, and then, one day, when I told him I was pregnant, grateful tears would flood his eyes. Not that I was getting ahead of myself or anything.
    Mémé left before the dance was over, so I didn’t have to undergo the usual criticism of my technique, hair, clothing choices. I bid goodbye to Julian. “I’ll call with the time and date of the class,” he said, kissing my cheek.
    “Okay. No stone left unturned.”
    “That’s my girl.” He winked and hefted his bag across his shoulder, waving as he left.
    My hair felt a bit large, so I hit the loo to spritz on a little more frizz tamer/curl enhancer/holy water before my date with Dave. “Hi, Dave, I’m Grace,” I said to my reflection. “No, no, it’s natural. Oh, you love curly hair? Why, thank you, Dave!”
    As I left the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of someone at the end of the hall, walking away from me. He turned left, heading for the medical wing. It was Callahan O’ Shea. What was he doing here? And why was I blushing like some schoolkid who was just busted for smoking in the bathroom? And why was I still staring after him when I had a date, a real live date, hmm? With that thought in mind, I headed out to my car.

    R EX J AVA’S was about half-full when I got there, mostly high school kids, though none from Manning, which was in Farmington. I glanced around furtively. Dave didn’t appear to be here…there was a couple in their forties in one corner, holding hands, laughing. The man took a bite of the woman’s cake, and she swatted his hand, smiling. Show-offs, I thought with a smile. The whole world could see how happy they were. Over against the wall, a white-haired older man sat reading a paper. But no Dave.
    I ordered a decaf cappuccino and took a seat, wondering if I should’ve changed out of my skirt before coming. Sipping the foam, I warned myself about getting my hopes up. Dave could be nice or he could be a jerk. Still. His picture was nice. Very promising.
    “Excuse me, are you Grace?”
    I looked up. It was the white-haired gentleman. He looked familiar…had he ever come to Dancin’ with the Oldies? It was open to the public, after all. Possibly a Manning connection?
    “Yes, I’m Grace,” I said tentatively.
    “I’m Dave! Nice to meet you!”
    “Hi…uh…” My mouth seemed to be hanging open. “You’re Dave? Dave from eCommitment?”
    “Yes! Great to see you! Can I have a seat?”
    “Um…I…sure,” I said slowly.
    Blinking rapidly, I watched as Dave sat, easing his leg out from the table. The man in front of me was sixty-five if he was a day. Possibly seventy. Thinning white hair. Lined face. Veiny hands. And was it me, or was his left eye made of glass?
    “This is a cute place, isn’t it?” he said, scootching his chair in and looking around. Yep. The left eye didn’t move a bit. Definitely man-made.
    “Yes. Um, listen, Dave,” I said, trying for a friendly but puzzled smile. “Forgive me for saying this, but your photo…well, you looked so…youthful.”
    “Oh, that,” he laughed. “Thank you. So you said you’re a dog lover? Me, too. I have a golden retriever, Maddy.” He leaned forward and I caught a whiff of Bengay. “You mentioned that you also have a dog?”
    “Um, yes. Yes, I do. Angus. A Westie. So. When was that taken? The picture?”
    Dave thought a minute. “Hmm, let’s see now. I think I used the one taken just before I went to Vietnam. Do you like to eat out? I love it myself. Italian, Chinese,