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“Maybe you should ask him out, then.”
“I can’t take that kind of pressure. I would probably use a dozen four-letter words out of nervousness before we even made it to dinner. By the time dessert arrived, he would probably know every sin I’d ever committed. And the list is long, mind you.” She winked. “Then I would have to find a new church, and I’m too lazy for that.”
“So, no pastors.” I smiled. “Lorelai? Anyone?”
Lorelai was scrolling through her contacts. “Let’s see. Have I mentioned Dane Barret yet?” she hesitantly asked.
I had to stop and think. The list was getting ridiculously long. “I don’t think so.”
Lorelai nibbled on her bottom lip and contemplated. “He was one of William’s old buddies,” she whispered. “He’s a bit rough around the edges. He was in the military for a long time, but he’s been back for a while now. He’s a professional cowboy.”
“Intriguing.”
“He’s ruggedly handsome, and last time I saw him he was still in great shape. If memory serves me correctly, he has normal feet,” she giggled. She never showed me pictures; I wanted to go in completely blind. I figured that’s how the voice worked—by surprise.
“Perfect. How does he feel about blind dates?”
“After I show him a picture of you, I would say he’ll be a big fan.”
I ran my fingers through my uninhibited hair. “Don’t snap any of me today—I’m a hot mess. The bags under my eyes need their own zip code.” Even though I never wanted to see a picture of the men beforehand, I had no qualms letting them see me—just in case I repulsed them. This way they could back out beforehand.
“At least it’s prime real estate,” Colette quipped.
“Aww. Now if I can find someone who would like to move in permanently,” I lamented.
“You will,” Lorelai reassured me.
I nodded, somewhat hopeful. “Okay, now back to business. I talked to the graphic artist, and he should have some designs for us to choose from for the commemorative T-shirts that we’ll have available for purchase. And I’ve narrowed it down to two photographers.” I pulled out my phone to show them each photographer’s website. “What do you think—”
“Hello, Grace,” a debonair voice said from behind me.
I fumbled my phone before dropping it on the table. What was he doing here? I thought he was at a TED Talk.
Lorelai’s and Colette’s eyes lasered in on Brooks. Meanwhile I froze in place, not daring to turn around. Then I remembered I’d had poppy seed dressing on my salad. Surely Lorelai or Colette would have told me if I had a poppy seed or two stuck in my teeth. I wanted to flash Lorelai a smile to check for me, but she was mesmerized with the man who stood behind me. I couldn’t exactly blame her; he was beautiful to look at.
I had almost gained enough courage to turn around when I heard a voice from the past that I could have done without. I began to silently pray she had gotten ugly or lost all her teeth. I hated myself for being like that. Momma used to say envy was 90 percent of what was wrong with this world. Specifically, she used to tell me that being jealous of Morgan was like a finger being jealous of a thumb. “The hand needs both to function properly,” she would say. Then she would smooth my brow and whisper, “The world needs Gracies and Morgans.”
I would reply, “But does Brooks need us both?”
Momma would smile and respond, “Yes, but I hope for his sake and yours, he’ll see why he needs you more.” That had always been my wish, although it was never coming true.
“Gracie Cartwright, it has been a long time.” Her smooth-as-silk voice wafted in the air, making me want to barf up my dinner.
I had no choice but to turn around, making sure not to smile in case of a rogue poppy seed. “Morgan. Brooks. How unexpected,” was all I could think of to say while I gawked at the pair. Brooks was still dressed in a suit and tie. Did he ever wear casual clothing? And Morgan, well let’s just say she hadn’t gotten ugly and she still had all her gleaming, straight, white teeth. On top of that, she matched Brooks perfectly in her boardroom suit. Apparently, her love for the pencil skirt still lived on. And her voluptuous chest was accented by her tailored jacket. So maybe, just maybe, I saw a strand of gray in her mocha-colored hair. And, if I was being snarky, it didn’t shine like it used to. Yet it didn’t matter, because she was still beautiful. She and Brooks looked like the perfect power couple. Oddly, though, they weren’t touching. If Brooks were my boyfriend, you better believe I would have my hands on him 24-7.
