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Callie smiled and sighed. “To be honest, I can’t wait for this thing to be over.”
“Me too,” he agreed. “This feels like a game of duck-duck-goose for adults.”
Callie laughed. “How much longer do we have?”
“This is it,” Jackson said, “we’re the last ones.”
Callie looked towards her right and noticed the Bradley Cooper look-alike was charming, the same brunette who had appeared taken with Jackson.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, I could use a good meal and some time to relax with my shoes off.”
“I can imagine you put in a full day of work before coming to this thing. Would you like me to grab some takeout on the way back to the inn? Have to admit I was on my computer most of the day, myself working up bids, and my brother tells me I should shut that thing off sometimes.”
Callie admitted that sounded wonderful. As much as she enjoyed cooking, she was feeling tired.
“Thanks so much. That would be great. There is a cafe near the inn that serves wonderful paninis. I could give you directions if you like.”
“Sounds good,” nodded Jackson. “I’ll place an order and meet you in the dining room in about an hour, so that will give you a bit of time to yourself.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Callie said.
The bell clanged again.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Thelma called out. “This concludes today’s event. Just think–you may have met your soulmate tonight, the person you are fated to spend the rest of your life with! Now hurry and fill out your Lookbooks while you have the people you have met today fresh in your mind.”
Sarah Jane, who had placed Liza Minnelli into a fancy pink carrier, set it down next to Thelma as she swung the double doors open. Slowly, people began to wander back into the other conference room, choosing semi-private spots to complete their ratings.
Jackson got up and nodded to Callie. “See you in a bit.”
Callie opened her Lookbook and uncapped her pen. She found Doug Lambert’s photo with his boyishly handsome smile. On impulse, she turned to Jackson Thorne’s listing. There was his chiseled jaw and dark eyes looking back at her. His smile seemed forced as it didn’t reach his eyes, which struck Callie as haunting. She closed the Lookbook, rising from the table. Maybe she’d fill in her ratings later. Right now, she wanted to head back to the inn and maybe lie down for a few minutes before dinner.
Who is Jackson Thorne?she wondered, reaching into her purse for her keys.
Chapter Seven
CALLIE
Callie parked the car in the enclosed garage and entered the Harbor Inn through the door to the mudroom off the kitchen. Aunt Fran was folding a piece of tinfoil over a casserole dish cooling on a hot pad atop the large wood block island. She looked like she was dressed to go out for the evening in a peach-colored sundress and matching floral printed pashmina. She wore a gold cross pendant around her neck that shimmered beneath the overhead light.
“Are you headed out tonight?” Callie asked as she stifled a yawn and set her purse on the counter, along with the materials from theForever Yours.
Aunt Fran eyed the Lookbook as she slid on a pair of oven mitts and lifted the casserole. “Yes, dear, I’m joining Janice, Marjorie, and the other members of our women’s Bible study potluck group tonight. We get together once a week to study Scripture and pray together.”
Callie smiled. “That sounds lovely. I hope you have a nice time.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I made a summer squash casserole and put the second one in the fridge if you’d like some.”
“That sounds delightful, Aunt Fran,” Callie said. “Jackson is picking up some paninis for us on his way back from Speed-dating. I think this sounds like the perfect accompaniment.”
“Oh?” Aunt Fran raised an eyebrow as she carefully placed the casserole into a tote. “How did that go today?”
“Honestly, it was overwhelming,” Callie acknowledged. “But fun,” she admitted with a sly smile.
Her aunt’s grin grew wide enough for the dimples in her cheeks to appear. “That’s what I was hoping for,” she said. “Remember, I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks,” Callie said gratefully as her aunt kissed her on the cheek and picked up the keys to the Volvo. The back door opened and shut, and Callie found herself alone in the big kitchen. The inn was quiet. She walked up the stairs to her suite, considering.
As a child, her father had insisted that her nannies take her to church on Sunday mornings. However, he never went himself, preferring Sunday mornings to be spent on the golf course with his business colleagues or working from his home office. Once Callie was a teenager and old enough to join the church youth group, Arthur had insisted that she prioritize her grades over ‘needless socializing.’
