“Don’t try to play matchmaker.” I held up my hand. “Being single doesn’t mean I’m automatically attracted to author dudes. Getting involved with one was enough for a lifetime.”
“I’m merely giving you the facts.” She blinked innocently.
“Don’t want a man. Don’t need one. Just because your biological clock is ticking, doesn’t mean I’m hearing the same sound.”
She pawed around in her giant canvas purse. Several receipts fell out and she bent to scoop them up. When she righted herself, she clutched a fistful of paper and waved it in my direction. “Only giving you the backstory, Maggie. Don’t flip out. He’s a really interesting guy. Apparently, he’s writing a book about serial killers. I mean, he’s also handsome if you’re into that sort of thing.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What sort of thing? Serial killers?”
“Single men who like books.” She unfurled a wicked smile and waggled her fingers in a wave. “See you tonight.”
“Maybe he’s a better prospect for you. Later.” I slurped up more of my tomato soup, wondering if I should get a quart to go.
Vera’s taste in men was questionable at best. She’d always been attracted to themuscular jocks and the frat bros, while I preferred the nerdier guys with glasses and lean bodies. I snuck a glance at her and watched as she approached Tyler Carr’s table across the room.
She flashed him a brilliant smile, then tucked her hair behind her ears. It was a sure sign that she was nervous. He wiped his mouth, then rose, a smarmy grin plastered on his face. He’d been an awful bully in high school and I’d never forgiven him for it.
Maybe that was unfair of me. Surely we’d all changed since high school.
He and Vera hugged, and then he reached out and tugged a lock of her hair. She let out a giggle that sounded like a porpoise mating call, one that I could hear over the voices of the other customers. I knew when my sister was flirting, and this was a prime example. I noted that Tyler didn’t appear to introduce her to his dining companion, which rankled me.
I also wondered why he hadn’t been a gentleman and stepped in when Gene was acting like a jerk at our table.
She handed Tyler a business card. Ugh. I wasn’t looking forward to him slithering around the store.
I returned to my soup. Vera was an adult, and despite my best efforts over the years, I couldn’t change who she was attracted to. Dating was a touchy subject, because she’d always been insecure about her looks and skin. She never felt good enough, or pretty enough—almost the opposite of me. I didn’t care what people thought.
I finished my lunch in peace while reading a few pages of a new mystery novel on my phone.When I was finished with the chapter and my food, I paid the bill.
Probably I should’ve gone up to Tyler’s table to say hello on my way out in an effort to make nice with Wahoo’s newest city council member, but I decided against it. I’d had enough human contact for one day.
Instead, I walked past the bookstore on the way to my truck. Brown paper covered the windows. Vera really needed to get the new sign up, and soon. Sometimes she hyper-focused on certain things, while ignoring others. She saw the trees, while I saw the forest.
At home, I quickly showered then tackled the tough stuff first from my newly set-up desk in the guest room of Vera’s house. My office setup was one of the few things I’d brought from Boston. I’d chosen blond and white wood for the desk and bookcase, along with a gold overstuffed chair and two giant potted rubber plants. A macramé wall hanging and a pretty print of butterflies from the Boston Zoo added a nice touch. I called it boho chic, and it felt relaxed yet clean and organized.
Vera preferred stacks of books and froofy, messy farmhouse decor.
First, I checked the probate records for Dad’s estate, which made my chest feel heavy with sadness. It seemed unfair that my colorful father’s life was reduced to dry, dull paperwork. Then I turned my attention to another unpleasant task, my 401k forms from the Boston Zoo. I’d worked there four years—well, five, if you counted my college internship—and had a meager chunk of savings to show for it.
My plan was to withdraw some of it to help Vera’s bookstore in the short term, because she needed cash, fast. Neither of us had anticipated that Dad’s estate would take this long. He’d died in April, and now here it was, nine months later.
After two hours on the computer combined with all that bright sunshine earlier in the day, my eyelids felt heavy. I desperately needed a siesta. I padded around the house, going from room to room, looking for our kitten, Catsy.
I found her in the back room, soaking up the rays streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The little white kitty was on her back, her belly exposed. We’d adopted Catsy the week I returned, when her mother—a beat-up, mean feral named Snowball—had broken into the house and raised her two kittens in the room where Dad had died.
Aunt Lolo had adopted the other kitten and Snowball. Vera and I had claimed our kitten and named her after Dad’s favorite singer, Patsy Cline.
“Silly girl.” I clicked on the overhead fan then knelt to scratch Catsy’s belly.
This was my favorite room in the house. It was essentially a porch-slash-solarium, and in the winter Vera took the glass out and added screens. The room also had a door leading to the peaceful backyard, which was filled with stately live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss. A shell rock path curved through the trees and forked. To the right were the rental cabins, and to the left was the Snake River. The path and its shells were so white they almost glowed in the afternoon sun.
From the comfy daybed aimed right underneath the air-conditioning vent, you could almost see the canoe launch at the far end of the property. That was one of many things that made this property special; you could paddle right from the backyard and end up a quarter mile downstream at Crystal Spring, a stunning swimming hole where the glass-clear water was seventy-two degrees year-round.
“If I was more ambitious, I’d go out for a paddle,” I said to Catsy, flopping down on the daybed. “But I’m not, so I’m here with your fluffy butt.”
She flipped over and let out abrrapsound. I shut my eyes and within a few seconds I felt her hop up on the daybed and snuggle into my side. My fingers went into her soft fur, which was scorching from the sun. Catsy was unable to watch anyone sleeping without napping herself—she was like an Olympic champion of snoozing.
When she wasn’t zooming around the house like a maniac.
