1
“She’s beautiful. She’s, like, the perfect female.”
I glanced up from my laptop, frowning at Preston. “Who?”
“The girl ordering right now. She’s so cute, she’s throwing me adigit, man!” Preston leaned forward, his eyes never wavering from where he was looking.
I began to twist around so I could take in this paragon of perfection, but my friend grabbed at my arm. “No, don’t look. Wait until she comes around over here. She’s gonna wait for her coffee and then she’ll sit down, and I’ll talk to her, and—hey, would you be my best man? Because I’m totally marrying her in two point five years.”
“Sure, happy to help.” I slumped down in my chair and tried to pull my focus back to the screen. “And just think, it’ll be the ultimate meet-cute, because you were here, in the coffee shop where we always hang out, and maybe she comes here a lot, too, yet you never saw her until this moment.”
“Yes!” Preston’s eyes lit up. “Exactly, my boy. That’s it. That’s why you have to stand up for me at the wedding, because no one else could tell that story like you.”
“Cool. I’m totally using it for the opening of my next novel.How My Best Friend Found Love. The subtitle will be:While He Was Supposed to be Providing Me Moral Support in My Job Search.” I shot him a reproachful look.
“You have a job.” Preston shrugged. “You’re the best sales manager Allister’s has ever had.”
“Yeah, well, news flash, buddy. Folding jeans and selling shirts isn’t what I plan to do for the rest of my life.”
“Huh.” Preston nodded, his brow drawing together. “But that’s why we’re here today, right? So you can meet up with this mentor, or your used-to-be mentor, and get the ball rolling on your literary career.”
“Well, that’s whyI’m here,” I replied archly. “Remind me why you tagged along?”
“To search for yees.” He shook his head at me, as though I’d missed some obvious answer. “It’s October, man. The hunt is on.”
“Uh-huh. Listen, Preston, when Vivian gets here—”
“Who’s Vivian, again?”
“My former mentor.” I took a deep breath. I’d explained this before, but apparently, Preston hadn’t been listening. “We met when I was in college, and she was a reporter atThe Central Florida Sunbeam. I was an intern there for a year, and Vivian was really great about giving me ideas and tips . . . then she went away on assignment or something—I think it had to do with trains—and while she was gone, I finished the internship. I lost touch with her. I’d hoped to get a job at that same newspaper, but they got sold, and I guess my application was lost in all the mess of the sale.”
“Ah, okay. Bummer.” Preston nodded. “But that was like two years ago, right? Why didn’t you reach out to her before now?”
“Because I want to write a book, not get a job in journalism.” I shut my computer with a little more force than I’d planned, and I winced, hoping I hadn’t damaged anything. “But that isn’t happening, and working at Allister’s is slowly killing my soul. So I figured I’d try to get some kind of job in the writing world, even it’s not producing the Great American Novel.”
The bell over the door of the shop jingled, and both Preston and I turned automatically to see who was coming in. At first, we didn’t see a person, just the front of a large and cumbersome baby carriage, one of those huge deals that look like a bed on wheels. It was so wide that the driver was having a hard time maneuvering through the doorway.
I jumped to my feet to help. The woman on the other end of the carriage was shorter than me, and her light brown hair was pulled up into a high ponytail. She was maybe a little rounder than I remembered her being, but that probably had something to do with the bundle of joy currently slumbering in the stroller contraption.
Finally, we managed to get the carriage into the shop and over to the table that Preston and I were sharing. Vivian dropped a large backpack that looked like it was stuffed within an inch of its life onto an empty chair.
“Good God. Why was I ever late to anything before I had a kid? I had no excuse. Now I see that.” She swiped a strand of hair out of her face and turned to beam at me. “But enough of that. Harry! Look at you! You’re all grown up!”
She wrapped me in a hug that was tight and welcoming, and I remembered again how much I’d liked this woman. Vivian had always treated me with kindness and the sort of affection reserved for younger brothers. She’d given me more opportunities than I’d probably deserved, and she’d never flipped out when I—occasionally—screwed up.
“Hey, look atyou.” I ventured to peek into the carriage. “Wow. You’ve got a kid.”
“I do!” Vivian glowed with pride and leaned over to straighten his blanket. “This is Gus. He’s twelve weeks old . . . and if you wake him up, I’ll have to strangle you.”
I took an involuntary step backward. “No worries. I’m not going to even touch the coach thingy.” I pointed to the other empty chair. “Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee or tea or anything?”
“Ahhh . . . something non-caffeinated, with no dairy, either. Maybe an unsweetened guava ice tea.” She fell into the chair. “Thanks. I’m just going to grab a nap while you’re in line.”
“Uh, Vivian, there isn’t a line. Besides the woman over there—” I jerked my head toward Preston’s so-called perfect girl. “—we’re the only people here.”
Vivian waved her hand. “Listen, kiddo, I have a twelve-week old child, and he only sleeps in ninety-minute snatches. I take my power naps when I get them.” She side-eyed Preston. “I don’t want to be rude, but is he with you? Or is he just randomly parked at the same table while he drools over Blondie?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I nudged Preston’s outstretched leg with my foot, getting his attention so he’d sit up and take notice. “Vivian Rexland—”
