The terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that had washed over from Beatrix’s panic attack was not in a hurry to subside. An hour after he dropped her off, Peter was on the brink of going back to check on her when the mayor knocked on his door.
“Everything all right?” he asked Croft, ushering him into the receiving room.
“Oh yes! Perfectly all right. I was just coming to invite you to dinner on Saturday—I hope you can make it?”
He liked Croft. And the man had no daughters, sisters or sisters-in-law, to the best of his knowledge, so he said, “Thank you, yes. That is,” he added, more as a joke than an actual inquiry, “as long as this isn’t a matchmaking attempt.”
“Um,” Croft said.
“It …isn’t, is it?”
Croft’s face went from rosy to beet red. “Well, my wife’s niece …”
Peter pressed his hands to his eyes. “Does every family in town have designs on me?”
Croft gave a sheepish laugh. “Probably.”
“Mayor—this is getting out of hand. Feelings will be hurt. What can I do?”
“Pick someone.”
Peter groaned. “Why is this just happening now? I’ve been in town for months.”
“Early on, we sort of figured youhadpicked someone.”
“What do you mean?” he said, knowing exactly what the man meant.
“You insisted that no one but Miss Harper would do.”
“Because she’s an excellent employee! You know that better than anyone. Did everybody think I waspreyingon her?”
“No, no,” Croft said quickly, then amended it with, “Well, not anyone with sense. We just thought you were soft on her.”
What did it matter? He was now. And as a matter of fact, hehadbeen preying on her—just not in the way some in town were thinking.
“Anyway,” Croft said, “we did eventually figure out that you’re not trying to marry her, and then you ate with the Sedereys twice … ”
“Doesn’t everyone realize I have no source of income? Washington didn’t assign me here, you know.”
Croft shot him a don’t-be-stupid look. “You’re awizard. You’ll never have trouble.”
Peter saw many, many dinner invitations in his future. His face must have betrayed his feelings because Croft said, “Isn’t there anyone in town you’d like?”
“I hardly know anyone.”
“That’s what dinners are for,” Croft said, in the patient manner of a parent talking to a small child. “To get to know people.”
“Look—I …” He paused to pick his words with care. “I fell in love with someone. It didn’t work out. I’m not over her.”
Croft’s face showed his sympathy. He clasped Peter’s arm. Then he said: “Best thing for that is to find someone else.”
Peter tipped his head back and stared heavenward.
“So—about dinner …” Croft said.
“I’m not coming, Mayor.”
“You’d really rather wallow here by yourself?”
