‘Attention, please,’ Betty Miller raised her voice from the head of the long table and gave a sharp clap of her hands, waiting for the conversations around her to stop.
‘Did she just clap her hands at us like a bunch of kindergarten kids?’ Emma murmured to Bel from where they sat further down the table.
Betty was the president of the progress committee, as well as a number of other groups in town, and was one of those amazing people who thrived on overcommitting themselves.Although, in all fairness, without people like Betty driving them, most of the organisations would have probably folded.
‘This is the last meeting before the market and movie night, so I’m going over the list and confirming with everyone that they have their schedules and know the times they’ll be needed to man the committee’s fundraising stall. Just a reminder that all baked items and goods for sale need to be dropped off before the day and we will need people to help with pricing and packaging,’ she said, staring pointedly over the top of the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.
Bel had known Betty for most of her life—her gran had been on some of the same committees over the years—and the woman didn’t seem to age. She also didn’t seem to get any less intimidating. Bel always felt the urge to squirm in her seat whenever the woman stared at her. Even now, as she listened to Betty speaking, she felt the same way she had when she was ten and Betty had turned up at Gran’s house in a tizzy because Bel and Emma had picked Betty’s prize roses to make their own range of perfume with the perfume factory kit Emma had gotten for Christmas.
The meeting had dragged on for another forty-five minutes when a disagreement broke out over who was the original tenant in the old cordial factory, which had nothing whatsoever to do with finalising the event.
Bel swallowed her frustration. She just wanted to go home.
Finally, the meeting drew to a close and Emma and Bel wasted no time on their farewells.
‘Dear Lord, I thought that would never end,’ Emma said as they stepped out into the cooler night air.
‘I know. Thank goodness that was the last meeting for a while.’
‘So?’ Emma said as they walked towards their cars.
‘So … what?’
‘How goes the great soulmate quest?’
‘It doesn’t. I blew it. I ruined my chance at a great first impression and now he doesn’t even notice me.’ She recalled how he hadn’t even seemed to be aware there’d been anyone else in the room because Larkin had outshone everything else around her as usual.
‘Look, I know you believe in all this manifestation stuff, but maybe this wasn’t a sign? Maybe he isn’t the one?’
‘He’s exactly what I put on my list,’ Bel said, shaking her head.
‘But is he? You don’t really know him well enough to say that for sure though, do you?’ Emma replied.
‘I wanted my own real-life Jax Lexington,’ Bel said stubbornly. ‘The universe sent him but I missed my opportunity.’
‘Well, if itismeant to be, don’t you think you’re giving up a little too easily? I mean, nothing worthwhile is supposed to get handed to you, right? Maybe this is the universe testing you?’
Bel frowned a little as she considered her friend’s words.
‘All I’m saying is don’t give up if this is what you really believe in. Men don’t just drop out of the sky around here.’
Bel grinned. ‘Wow. Careful, you sound like you almost believe in it too.’
Emma shrugged, clicking her key remote. ‘Who am I to say manifesation isn’t real? People believe in much stranger things than this. I just want you to be happy,’ she said, leaning in to hug Bel lightly.
Bel watched as her friend climbed into her car. Maybe shehadgiven up too easily. After all, had Edward given up on Bella inTwilight? Jamie would never give up on Claire inOutlander, and Romeo and Juliet … well, that probably wasn’t a great example, but still. Maybe she shouldn’t throw in the towel just yet.
As she sat on her bed later that night, Bel took her soulmate list from inside the book and smoothed it out. She closed her eyes and repeated the words on the paper until she felt the same sense of peace and determination that she’d felt all those months earlier when she’d first written them.
Letting out a long breath, Bel put the list away and slid down in between her freshly washed sheets, enjoying the feel of crisp linen and the delicate smell of sunshine she imagined still lingered on them. Drifting off to sleep, she dreamed of Jax Lexington smiling at her across a Black Jack table … or was it Tate? She wasn’t sure and, to be honest, she didn’t really care. All she wanted was to be swept away into a life far more exciting than the one she was currently in.
‘Morning, Bel,’ Larrisa greeted her as she walked into the cafe.
Larrisa was a few years younger than Bel and a single mum to two young boys. She’d been working in the bakery ever since she’d left high school and had recently bought out her old boss to become the owner. ‘Morning,’ said Bel. ‘How’s things?’
‘Not too bad, had a little extra traffic. I’m hoping Larkin’s wedding will bring in a heap of out-of-towners over the next few days.’
‘It should.’ Bel smiled. ‘The guest list is a mile long.’
