Okay, that was it. I’d had enough. “You ordered hazelnut.” I put down the book.
Carla whirled in my direction, fire in her eyes. “Excuse me?” There was a beat of silence as both of them looked at me.
“I said you ordered hazelnut.” My hands shook as I got to my feet. I hated confrontation. I liked keeping to myself. But that whole argument had been ridiculous, and that bitch had been dangerously close to insulting my little sister. I wasn’t going to let that happen. “You were on your phone, you probably weren’t thinking, but I was right here and I heard you order hazelnut.”
“I didn’t . . .” Carla stopped speaking, her mouth hanging open for a second, and I saw the moment click when she realized she was in the wrong. A flush climbed the back of her neck, and the fire in her eyes froze. She stared straight at me, and I stared back, the both of us leaving Emily out of the conversation.
“It’s fine!” Emily’s cheerful voice cut through the tension, and she put a fresh to-go cup on the counter. “Here you go, one vanilla latte. I even upsized it for you, no charge, for the inconvenience.”
Carla turned around and looked at the coffee as though she’d never seen one before. She looked at me one more time, then back at the coffee. She sniffed loudly and picked up the cup, not meeting Emily’s eyes. Her thank-you was a mumble, and she all but slunk out of the store, leaving Emily and me alone. Finally.
I heaved a long sigh. “Who was that bitch?”
Emily’s sigh echoed mine. “Carla owns a shop here in town. Kitschy jewelry. She’s head of the Chamber of Commerce. So that’s fun.”
“Jesus. I bet.” I sat back down, and soon Emily joined me with two fresh lattes.
“Don’t worry about her. Carla’s a cranky old woman and sometimes she likes to take shit out on people.”
“And you put up with it?” I shook my head.
Emily sighed. “Head of the Chamber of Commerce,” she repeated. “It sucks. She sucks. But whatever. I don’t listen to her half the time. Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way. The look on her face was priceless.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “I stick up for the people I love. You know that.”
We shared a smile across the table. Emily and I hadn’t always had the best relationship growing up, due more to our age difference than any actual animosity. But since she’d come to Willow Creek we’d gotten closer, and I’d learned what it was like to really have a sister. I loved her, and she knew it. That was leaps and bounds over where we’d both been five years ago.
“So,” she said. “Mitch.”
I sighed. Crap. Back on topic. “Yeah.”
“You’re really gonna go there?” She grinned. “You’ll have to let me know what’s under that kilt.”
“Oh, God.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “First of all, I’m not getting under anything.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” Emily snickered into her latte. “I bet he’d be fun.”
I shook my head hard. “No, thank you. Himbos are not my type.”
“Aw, come on. Give him a little credit. He’s more than his looks.”
“Seriously?” I stared at Emily. “I seem to remember a certain someone drooling over him when she first came to town.”
She put up her hands in a defensive gesture. “Okay, guilty. I thought he’d be a fun distraction. And I stand by that. But then I got to know him, and he’s . . .” She shrugged. “He’s a good guy. Genuinely nice, and he’s not stupid, you know.”
“I never said he was.” Now it was my turn to be defensive.
Emily narrowed her eyes. “I think ‘himbo’ implied that.”
I clucked my tongue. “Well, look at the guy. His main hobbies are happy hour and hooking up. Pretty sure he encourages people to see him that way.”
“Maybe so.” She considered that. “But he also helps Simon wrangle those kids every year with the Faire, and performs a complicated fight scene with him. Not to mention teaching full-time and coaching on top of that. I’m just saying there’s more to him than his muscles.” She took a thoughtful sip of coffee. “They’re nice muscles, though.”
I tsked at her. “You’re married.”
“Yeah, but I’m not blind.”
I ignored that. “Okay, but the kilt is just a Ren Faire thing, right? That’s not till July. This whole fake girlfriend thing will be over long before then.”
“Ah. So you are going to do it.” Emily looked smug as she sipped her latte.
I sighed a long sigh. “Probably.”
She shook her head at me. “You’re too nice.”
That brought me up short. “Me?” That had to be the first time anyone had ever accused me of being nice at all, much less being too nice. I liked myself just fine, and I liked a small circle of people. But that was pretty much it.
Emily smiled. “Yeah, you. You know, when I moved here, you hardly talked to anyone. Now you’re in two book clubs—”
“Only because the neighborhood one always chooses depressing books,” I interjected. “The one here at the store is more fun.” Reading two books a month didn’t make me nice. Did it?
But Emily kept going like I hadn’t spoken. “—and now you’re going out of your way to help a friend out. Next thing you know you’ll be volunteering for the Renaissance Faire.”
I snorted. “I highly doubt that. I don’t have the tits for a corset.”
“And I do?” She raised her eyebrows, and she had me there. I cast around for another reason. A more obvious one.
“I’m not a joiner, Em. You know that.”
Emily nodded sagely. “Two book clubs.”
I narrowed my eyes at her as I finished my latte. “Shut up.”
* * *
? ? ?
To my surprise, Caitlin was home when I got there, sitting at the dining room table, textbooks and laptop open in front of her.
“I thought you were at the mall.”
Caitlin barely glanced up from her work. “Yeah, well. Syd couldn’t decide on anything, and then her boyfriend showed up, and it wasn’t a girls’ day anymore, you know? I was the third wheel.”
I made a sympathetic noise. “And you’d rather come home and do homework? That’s definitely bad.”
“Exactly.” Her mouth was set in a firm line and she turned a page in her book a little too emphatically. I’d seen that look before, but usually on myself. I didn’t like my kid sounding this cynical at not quite eighteen.
That reminded me. I pulled the blue envelope out of my purse. “Here’s this back.” I slid the card across the table to Caitlin. “You want to hang on to it, right?”
“I . . . guess?” Caitlin took the card in its envelope like it was plutonium and she didn’t have a hazmat suit.
Her tone of voice gave me pause. “Hey. What are you thinking, kiddo?”
“I . . .” She looked at the card in her hand again, then up at me, before closing her laptop and pushing it away. “I mean. Isn’t it weird that he’s writing to me now? He’s never done that before.”