It was not a bet I was willing to take. Because the truth was, my girls could coerce me into doing just about anything.
Anything, that is, except get involved with Jillian—or keep my distance from Hope.
35
hope
Kirsten poured foam onto my cappuccino the following Wednesday morning during a lull in her business. “I’m so thrilled you’ve agreed to do the mural here! And so is everyone else on the block. The drugstore, the hardware store, and the insurance agency have agreed to each pay you an extra two thousand dollars to include them in it.”
“Wow. You might have missed your calling, Kirsten,” I said. “You should be in art sales!”
“It was easy. I showed them the photo of the mural you did at Matt’s house and told them it would be a permanent billboard.”
I’d finished the girls’ room on Monday. Matt and I had moved their furniture back that evening, and the girls had been so excited they’d insisted on sleeping in their princess gowns. Life at Matt’s house pretty much had been a nonstop princess-a-thon ever since.
I’d brought a photo of the room to Kirsten yesterday, and she’d immediately taken it to the neighboring businesses.
I perched on a barstool at the coffee counter and gave Kirsten a teasing grin. “Maybe you should take my job in Chicago and I should stay here.”
Kirsten put her hand on her hip. “Maybe you should forget about Chicago and stay here, period. I know a hunky neighbor of yours who would no doubt agree.”
My heart somersaulted at the thought of Matt. For the last few nights, we’d been meeting in the swing in my grandmother’s backyard after the girls went to bed, talking and, well, making out a little.
Just a little, though—because Mrs. Ivy could see us from her upstairs window, and we’d caught her watching on more than one occasion. As delicious as Matt’s kisses were, knowing that they’d be reported to the entire neighborhood put a damper on my ardor.
So did the thought that a once-in-a-lifetime job awaited me and I was just a short-timer in Wedding Tree. “I can’t just forget about Chicago,” I said, taking the cappuccino she handed me.
“Well, you can at least enjoy Matt while you’re here.”
“That’s true.” I took a sip. “We’re going out to dinner this Saturday.”
“Ooh, another date!”
“It’s not a date-date.”
“In what way is it not?” Kirsten arched an eyebrow as she picked up a bar rag.
“Well, it’s not like anything is going to happen.”
“That’s only because neither of you has a place to get down and dirty.”
“Wow. I love your romantic phrasing.” But she was right. Matt’s house was off-limits because of his daughters, and Gran’s house was out of the question.
She smiled as she wiped down the counter. “With a husband who’s been gone for five months, believe me, down and dirty sounds a lot more romantic than wine and roses.”
“What’s he like?”
“Sam? Oh, he’s wonderful. Totally worth the wait.”
“How did you two meet?”
“At college. But we didn’t start really dating until he finished a tour of duty with the marines. He said he didn’t want to be pining for me while he was in Afghanistan.” She put the rag over the sink and smiled. “But he said he pined anyway.”
“Aw!” I took another sip. “So now the pining’s mutual.”
Kirsten nodded. “We e-mail all the time and we Skype when he’s in port, but there’s nothing like that physical one-on-one. He keeps promising that each trip is his last, but the money’s really good, and...” She sighed. “The truth is, I’m not sure he’d ever really be happy settled down.” I caught a glimpse of intense sadness in her eyes. Before I could think of anything to say, she turned to the sink. “Hey—do you like romance novels?”
Apparently she didn’t want to talk about Sam anymore. “Yeah, I love them.”
