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Within a few steps from my air-conditioned office, I’m sticky with sweat. I unbutton the top few buttons of my shirt, wishing I’d had a t-shirt to change into at the office. When I pass Sticks & Stones Boutique, I look at the window display. Margo’s trendy clothing store is a far cry from the junk shop that used to occupy the space.
My breath catches when I spot Hazel inside. She’s wearing slacks and an apron. A measuring tape is draped around her neck like a scarf.Could there be a more adorable seamstress?
Our eyes meet through the plate glass. I smile and wave. Her cheeks flush, and she quickly turns away without waving back.
Yup. Things are definitely weird between us now.
With a sigh, I keep walking to the bait shop next door. Something brushes against my leg, and I look down to see an orange tabby cat.
“Houdini.” I say his name like Jerry Seinfeld says Newman. “I blame you for this.”
He stares up at me with big, yellow eyes and I see he’s not wearing a collar. As a citizen of Friendly, it’s my duty to remedy that. Outdoor cats aren’t permitted in Friendly—we value the lives of our shore birds—but after several people tried to tame Houdini into being a housecat and failed, the town decided that he could be outside if he always wore a collar with a bell. At least then he’d have a harder time stalking prey. But Houdini is an escape artist, and he breaks out of the collar on a regular basis. So, Tuck was appointed to be the official Keeper of Collars, and he keeps a box of collars at the Bait Bucket just for Houdini.
I scoop Houdini into my arms, and he purrs loudly, nuzzling my chin with his face.
“You’re not forgiven,” I mutter. “But I’m headed to the Bait Bucket anyway. And maybe if you’re with me, Tuck won’t beat me with a kayak paddle for falling in love with his sister.”
Houdini bats at my mouth with a paw as if telling me to be quiet.
“Excellent advice.”If I don’t talk about it, I can’t incriminate myself.
Chapter 7
Hazel
“WasthatBishopoutside?”Margo asks.
“Was it?” I reach for a pair of heels on a display rack. “I didn’t notice.”
Margo gives me a quizzical look and I know she sees through my life. Fortunately, she lets it go and nods at the shoes instead. “What are those for?”
“Sara Jean didn’t bring the right shoes with her for the fitting,” I explain.
Margo scowls. “She’s a monster.”
I can’t help but grin. “I love you.”
Margo returns my smile. “I love you, too. But seriously, she’s awful. If I were you, I’d refuse to tailor her clothes.”
“It’s a small town,” I explain, “and she’s the head of the PTA. It’s best to play nice.”
Margo cocks an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, your kid was no longer enrolled in the Friendly school system.”
A pang of sadness forms in my chest. She’s right. Jared’s all grown up, so why should I care about the PTA? But Margo supplies the answer by resting a hand on her pregnant belly. “True enough, but I’ll have a niece and nephew in school in five years or so.”
Margo’s eyes widen in horror. “Surely, we’ll be rid of her by then.”
I laugh. “Well, I’ve been wishing for that for thirty years, so don’t hold your breath.”
“Hazel!” Sara Jean calls from the dressing area in an annoyed voice. “Haven’t you found a pair of three-inch heels yet?”
“Speak of the devil,” I whisper to Margo.
Walking back into the dressing area with Margo by my side, I hold the heels up for Sara Jean. “Acceptable?”
She nods impatiently, holding a foot out for me to slide the shoe on like she’s Cinderella.Good grief.But I oblige, putting the shoes on her feet for her.
“So,” she says conspiratorially, “how’s your love life these days, Hazel?” For a moment, I wonder if she’s heard something about Bishop and me. Then a familiar glint in her eyes betrays her true intentions.Who knew mean girls grew up to be PTA moms?
