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“Okay, but if you change your mind, just holler.” She opened the oven door and pulled out a sheet of puffy muffins. “Harvey called, too. He wondered if he needed to babysit you tonight at dinner, or if Doc was.”
“Doc?” He hadn’t mentioned joining me, just asked me not to go.
“That’s my question.” She stuffed another tray of muffins into the oven and shut the door. “Who’s Doc?”
I swallowed the last of my muffin and grabbed another. “A client of mine.”
“You’re going to take a client along on a blind date with your secret admirer?”
“Well, Doc’s kind of a friend, too, and I’m not going to take him. He’s just worried about me being alone with my admirer.”
“Really?” Aunt Zoe tossed her oven mitt on the counter and planted her hands on her hips. “And he’s justkind of a friend?”
“Uh, huh,” I said through a mouthful of muffin.
“Is he good-looking?”
I pretended to examine the accordion design on the muffin tin, hiding my eyes behind a cluster of loose blonde curls. “My admirer? How should I know?”
“You know I’m talking about thisDocfriend.”
I sighed and crumpled the muffin wrapper in my hand. “Yes. He’s very good-looking. Too good-looking.”
He also claimed to be chummy with the dead, which should affect my attraction to him, yet it didn’t—not even a little bit. I should probably talk to a psychiatrist about that.
“But you’re going out with Wolfgang tomorrow night.”
“Yep.”
“Interesting.”
“Not really.” More like depressing. I stole a third muffin and crammed it all into my mouth.
I wanted a man I couldn’t have, and had a man I didn’t want. There, I’d laid it on the table. Wolfgang was drop-dead gorgeous and mine for the hands-on ogling, yet here I was peeking over Doc’s fence, checking out how green his grass looked. I definitely needed psychological help.
“I’m worried about tonight, Violet.” Aunt Zoe dumped the empty mixing bowl in the sink. “Maybe you should let Doc join you.”
“No.” Although a part of me hoped he’d show up at the restaurant. He knew where and when.
“What about Harvey?”
“Absolutely not.” I waved off her exasperated glare. “I’ll be in a public restaurant. What could happen?”
“Promise me you’ll call as soon as dinner is over.”
“I will.” Or not, being that my cell phone was in three pieces at the moment. “I’m going to go change and help Layne. Thanks for the muffins.”
Several hours and three-quarters of a horse spine later, I stood in front of my bedroom full-length mirror wearing the sapphire, calf-length dress I’d worn in my cousin’s wedding two years ago. Always a bridesmaid, always an unwed mother, never a bride. My evening loomed in front of me, my nerves seeping out through my armpits.
Still no word from Doc. Not that I’d expected him to come around, banging down the screen door, wanting to talk. I mean we’d only almost had sex this afternoon and then shared one of those life-and-death type of moments, after which he made me solemnly swear to never tell a soul about his ability to have tea and crumpets with the dead. Silly me, I’d kind of felt like we’d reached a new level in our so-called friendship.
After a dab of lipstick and a pep rally with my mirror, I kissed the kids goodbye, hugged Aunt Zoe, and headed downtown.
The Wild Pasque’s parking lot overflowed onto the street, typical for a Friday night. My heels clicked across the asphalt, my eyes searching for Doc’s Camaro as the sun slipped behind the surrounding hills.
I climbed the grand stairway to the restaurant’s entrance. The stuffed-shirt host found theAdelynnreservation without a problem. Scanning the other patrons as he led me through a maze of tables toward large windows overlooking Main Street, I sought a familiar face with a cleft chin and pair of dark brown eyes, but found only strangers.
Two place settings awaited me at the table, the linen napkins fanned out next to the silverware. My date had yet to arrive. Good. I needed time to gulp down some liquid courage.
