But the flicker of a figure by the window is tugging on my thoughts. I turn toward the large front window again, searching for a reasonable explanation—then, I freeze.
Past the glow of the string lights of Marcus’s restaurant, someone is standing on the sidewalk. Too still for a passerby. The angle makes it impossible to see their face clearly, but I don’t have to. My stomach drops, overwhelmed with knowing in my gut before my brain can catch up.
I know that person.
Then the crowd shifts, and my view changes. I blink, stepping closer to the window, and the person is gone. Maybe they were never there.
“Carol’s a lot,” Gemma says from somewhere behind me. “For a while, there was a betting pool in the kitchen on how many times she would send a dish back in a given night.”
“Huh?” My thoughts stutter. I turn back and try to recover. “What was the winning bet?”
“Seven.”
I smile, though my mind’s already drifting toward the window again.
I didn’t imagine it.
The energy around me feels charged with the certainty of it.
“Este—” Gemma starts, and there’s something in her eyes that makes me wonder if she saw the figure, too.
I almost ask her—the question’s on the tip of my tongue, begging to escape. But her face changes in an instant, concern replaced with a placid smile in a blink.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She nods quickly, and we both see Beau threading through the crowd. “I’m going to go check on the kitchen.”
“Did Carol find out it was you?” Beau asks as Gemma slips through the party.
“She bought a security system,” I repeat with my attention still half-fixed on the window.
Beau smirks. “Want me to hack into her account and erase the evidence?”
“Hah,” I respond flatly. But I know my husband, and if I asked, he would. He could. Before his illustrious buyout and early retirement, Beau was known for code that made the impossible possible. Tippy’s right, he is a genius.
Beau raises an eyebrow, like I might dare him to infiltrate Carol’s home security system.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Carol thinks she caught me, but what she thinks doesn’t matter anymore. Tippy came to my rescue and squashed her like a bug. It was a total out-of-body experience.”
Beau looks almost proud. “Look at you, fitting in with this crowd.”
“Oh, I’m not made to fit in out here.” I look around the dining room. “I miss the kitchen.”
“Have you gambled away our fortune yet?” he teases.
“Just your half.”
He lifts a subtle hand in the direction of the bar. “I see your matchmaking scheme is working out. What’d you do?”
I frown, having nearly forgotten my original plan for this evening. Then I look through the crowd and spot Marcus and Nora talking in the corner. They’re standing a little closer than they usually do, and my chest lifts on a hopeful breath. Nora’s hands are clasped in front of her, and Marcus has his hands in his pockets. But the starry-eyed look they sometimes give each other is there. An invisible thread between them tugging a little tighter.
“I bought a love potion off of one of those Etsy witches,” I joke.
“You gonna go push their faces together to make them kiss?”
“Nah, I should keep a low profile. Carol’s probably lying in wait somewhere around here. I’ll try again tomorrow,” I think aloud, watching Nora’s gaze linger a beat too long on Marcus.
They’re practically begging me to interfere.
