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“Babs,” she groaned and released a much-needed chuckle.
“Now, come on, little missy. I know you remember what he used to tell you.”
She did.
She flicked her gaze from the bonbons and studied a framed picture on the windowsill. “He said living a good life was like composing a song. If something’s not working, try another melody, but…”
“But never stop making music,” Babs finished. “The right melody always comes along—sometimes when you least expect it.” She sighed a sweet, girlish sound. “That man was dreadfully upbeat, wasn’t he? But he was right. And you get to choose another melody if you’re stuck—or in your case, little miss, asmell-ody. Do you see what I did there?” her grandmother teased.
Smell-ody.
“Babs,” she grumbled and pressed her hand against the two rings hidden beneath her shirt.
What kind of melody could change her situation?
“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me, little miss?”
Harper glanced away. She couldn’t burden the woman with the bills, and she sure as hell couldn’t cop to being married.
She took a bite of another bonbon. “No,” she answered through a mouthful of chocolate like a toddler.
“If you eat every bonbon,” Babs began, raising an eyebrow, “you won’t have any left to give to Libby and her fiancé. You’re expected there today for the housewarming party, aren’t you? That’s why I came down. I still have a few more things to pack before the ladies pick me up to go, but I wanted to make sure we got to say goodbye.”
Dammit! Stupid chocolate zombie brain.
She swiveled in her chair, grabbed her phone off the counter, and checked the calendar app.
Babs was right. If she didn’t leave now, she’d be late.
She surveyed the dwindling number of chocolates in the box—the box that was supposed to be a housewarming gift.
Gah!
There were six bonbons left. Not the dozen she’d planned to give to Libby and Raz, but a half dozen was still a respectable number of treats.
“I nearly forgot about the housewarming,” she whined. She scrambled to her feet and scanned the room, searching for her tote.
“Your purse is on the hook,” Babs said smoothly, biting back a grin.
Brain, start working!
“Which reminds me,” Babs continued. “I forgot to tell you that I met Madelyn Malone.”
Harper stared at her purse and froze.
Madelyn?
Her heart pounded. “You met Madelyn Malone, the nanny matchmaker?”
“Yes, she stopped over while you were at your convention.”
Madelyn showed up at the house.
No, no, no, no, no.
“Exactly what day did she stop by?” she asked, going for nonchalance. “The day I left or the day I got back?”
This was hella important.
