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I don’t think the hotel where Mortimer is staying would appreciate it if I showed up with a cat in my arms. Most places have health codes about that kind of thing.
“So, he’s that stubborn?” Mark asks. “He won’t even spend an hour or two on an interview? It sure would make me more confident about these matches.”
“He’s that stubborn,” I say, as I stride toward my Prius.
It’s already late morning. The day’s bright and crisp. A blue sky forms a spotless background to the orange, red, and yellow treetops bristling up around the cabin. The car gives a soft beep when I press my key fob.
It’s a relief to reverse out of the driveway and hit the road. I adjust the sun visor as I steer. “We just have to work with whatever numbers we have,” I say, before slugging down a gulp of lukewarm coffee. “Thanks for looking into it.”
“No prob, boss. Anything you need.”
We get off the line. Now that I’m safely out of the ski house, I let my thoughts veer toward Parker.
How did his date go last night?
I holed up at the Steaming Mug all day and didn’t see him, even once. But I managed to set everything up for him to have a cozy dinner with Heidi at a place called the Flower Cafe, which is sort of perfect, given that she works with flowers and all.
Did they hit it off?
Did he say sweet things to her? Maybe reach for her hand at the end of the night and pull her in?
Did he kiss her goodnight?
By the time I reach the highway, I’ve nauseated myself by playing through countless Parker-Heidi date scenarios on my mental screen. As I pick up speed on the interstate, heading south, I force myself to think about something else.
Like Mortimer. What I’ll say to him. How he’s going to see me, and tell me he wants me back. Of course he will.
When I reach the Broad Hollow hotel a couple hours later, I spend way too much time circling the thing and then finally nosing into a spot. I think I’m stalling, but I can’t figure out why. I want to see Mortimer. I want to get us back on track.
My phone rings as I stride up a wide walkway to the hotel’s impressively big entryway. A glass revolving door glints in the sun. I grab my phone and my heart squeezes in a little when I see it’s Parker.
I turn away from the glass doors and squint out at a row of glittery, sun-washed cars. “Wow, look who’s using a phone.”
“These things are overrated.Mrff mrff mrff.”
“Are you chewing, in my ear? Gross.”
“Sorry. Late breakfast.”
I glance down at my watch. “It’s one in the afternoon. When did you get in last night, anyway?”
“Two, I think. Two or three…”
“Hm.” I feel my jaw clench. “Must have been a good date, to keep you out that late.”And I should be happy about that.
“I’ll tell you all about it. Later. Right now I’m wondering—where’s the oatmeal?”
“I didn’t make any this morning. I can’t believe you’re using your phone again. Your dad said you’re more apt to use it as a paperweight than for making calls. Carly says you haven’t called her in years.”
“I went caveman. You’re changing me.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“I’ll be at the bar later, working. You want to come by for some food?”
Dirty Fries. Small, medium, or large.They still don’t sound at all appealing to me. Besides… “I’m traveling today. I told you. Central Vermont.”
“Yeah, I remember. The guy. Morbid—”
