Page 22 of Postmarked December

“Oh, they couldn’t make it,” she said, heat rising up her neck.

“That’s too bad.” He frowned and then looked around. “It’s busy. And people are waiting. I’d be happy to share a table and have dinner with you, so you don’t have to eat by yourself.”

What was she supposed to say? If she told him no, she’d look like a jerk on so many levels. “That’s a good idea.”

“Be right back.”

Nick went to speak to the hostess. Then he returned to his spot, let his waiter know, and gathered his things, bringing them over. He dropped his laptop bag at his feet. As Nick took a seat with his glass of beer, the waiting couple thanked them on their way to the table he’d just vacated. Her waiter returned the second place setting and handed him a menu.

“What are you thinking about having?” Nick asked, scanning the choices, relaxed, as if sitting across from her wasn’t the strangest thing in the world.

“I was thinking about the scallops,” she replied. “How about you?”

He pursed his lips, still reading the options. “I’m not sure.”

Having dinner with another man felt foreign. It was the first time she’d done so since Toby. She sipped her cocktail, hoping the rum would help her unwind. Between the letters and all the travel, she was wound up pretty tight. Marion’s words came to mind: That’s the kind of person you should probably be talking to…

But should she? She’d just boarded a plane in the hopes of connecting with Toby, and while that was a ridiculous proposition, her decision was an indication of where she was emotionally. She wasn’t ready. Not to mention, she didn’t know this guy from Adam.

Over her menu, she took in his unassuming pout, the tilt of his head, and his slight lean on the table. He appeared to be a decent person.

“The bison fillet sounds good,” he said.

Just then, the waiter came to take their orders. She went first. While Nick told the man what he wanted for dinner, Heather took the opportunity to get a good look at him. He wasn’t wearing any rings, so from the looks of it, he wasn’t married. He seemed to be around her age, maybe a little older, probably mid-thirties. His response to the waiter was genuine and thoughtful. And he seemed to have absolutely no idea who she was, which was refreshing and gave her a sense of safety.

When the waiter left, she asked, “So, what line of work are you in?”

“Research. You?”

“I’m an elementary school librarian.”

His eyebrows went up. “That’s an honorable profession.”

“And yours isn’t?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and he picked up his beer. “I’m not shaping the minds of innocent children, promoting lifelong learning, and enriching their curiosity.”

“You do make it sound noble. But where would we be without research? What kind of research do you do?”

“Sociological, mostly. Basically, I translate data from consumer studies, surveys—things like that—into reports to help businesses understand their customers, forecast trends, and shape marketing strategies. I minored in sociology in college, so while theory and professional studies were what drew me in, sadly, once I got out in the real world…my days mostly consist of data and number crunching.”

“I’ll bet that’s still interesting.”

“Sometimes. But I spend most of my time on my laptop, so it’s nice to talk to a real human being.” He tipped his beer and took a swig.

The candle flickered between them, bringing out the gold flecks in his eyes. He was easy to talk to. And she couldn’t help but consider the odds that he’d be next to her on the plane and then show up at her hotel. Back in Nashville, they lived about fifteen minutes apart, and here they were, four hundred miles from home, sitting across from one another. Why? Had fate played a hand? Or was their meeting totally random?

He eyed her glass. “So you’re a cocktail drinker?”

“Not really. I felt festive tonight. It’s such a nice restaurant, I thought I’d treat myself. I usually choose wine.”

He nodded. “If you’re feeling the holiday spirit, and you’ve got time, we could always walk around the Christmas market outside after dinner.” He nodded toward the stalls, filled with candles, local honey, and holiday wares that lined the grounds.

She could do with a little retail therapy. “That would be nice.”

What was she doing taking this handsome man up on his offer? He was derailing her plans. She’d come to follow the letters, and here she was, veering off course. Was she supposed to be doing that? Would she miss something? But Nick had an indescribable appeal, and he had her interested. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was about him that could do that—it was everything.

“Have you always lived in Nashville?” she asked, taking another sip of her cocktail.