Aunt Louise had zero filter, but that wasn’t the problem. I actually liked the way she said whatever the hell she wanted. The problem was she presided over the Haven family as a self-appointed matchmaker. Her kids were all married, but if you were over the age of twenty-one, related to the Havens, and single, Louise was coming for you.
She’d been trying to tie me down for years.
“I’ll take a French dip to go,” I said.
“Josiah,” Louise called, still waving. “Come on over here, honey.”
Heidi looked back and forth between us, as if she didn’t know who she should listen to.
“Put in my order to go and bring it to her table,” I grumbled and made my way past Heidi to where Louise was grinning at me.
“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise,” she said, as if we didn’t run into each other all the time in this damn town. “Have a seat.”
I pulled out the chair and sat. “I can’t stay.”
“That’s fine, it’s nice to say hello anyway.” She dug into her purse, pulled out a little mirror, and started dabbing at the corners of her mouth. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to track you down. Florence Newland was telling me the other day that her granddaughter Aida is coming to visit for the summer.”
“So?”
“I immediately thought of you.”
“Why?”
She snapped the mirror shut. “I thought you could take her out.”
“No.”
“Don’t be difficult. She’s a nice girl.”
“Don’t like nice girls.”
Her eye roll was more amused than annoyed. “Of course you do. We just haven’t found you the right one.”
“Not interested.”
“I do realize you’re a Haven, which is a synonym for stubborn. But eventually you’re going to have to settle down.”
My brow furrowed. “Why?”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Aren’t you lonely all by yourself?”
“No.”
“One of these days, you’re going to realize how much better your life would be with a good woman.”
I grunted. Easy for her to say. She’d married my uncle George when they were young and still malleable. I was thirty-eight and too set in my ways. I couldn’t fathom sharing my space, my time, or my life with another person. I hated having to answer to someone else. Hell, I didn’t even want a dog.
Besides, I’d been on the cusp of that once and look how that had turned out. Never again.
“You should focus on a different Haven.”
“Believe me, I’m working on those brothers of yours.”
“So why not badger one of them into taking out what’s her name. Did you try Luke? Or Zachary?”
“Zachary.” She practically spit out his name, as if it tasted bad. “He might be the one who finally stumps me. But Luke?” She tapped her lips with her finger. “No, I don’t see it.”
“If you don’t want to foist her on Luke, I have plenty of brothers to choose from.”
That was the truth. There were six of us boys, plus Annika. We were a yours, mine, and ours family. Dad had me, Luke, and Garrett with his first wife. Mom—she was the only mom any of us had ever known—had Reese, Theo, and Zachary. Dad had adopted them after they got married and no one questioned the fact that they were Havens. Then they’d had Annika together.
Plenty of single Haven brothers for Louise to annoy. Even Garrett, who’d gotten a divorce a few years ago.
Then again, Reese was the wild card. We hadn’t seen him in years. He could be married with seven kids of his own and we’d have no idea.
“You know, maybe I’ll see if Theo is interested,” she said. “He has a good, stable job.”
“Or Garrett,” I said, glad to see the wheels of her matchmaking mind turning away from me. “Also has a good, stable job.”
Heidi brought my to-go bag and set it on the table. I pulled out my wallet and shoved some cash at her before she could leave. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks.”
I stood, ready to make a break for it before Louise talked me into staying to eat with her. “I gotta go.”
“Good to see you, honey. But don’t think you’re off the hook.”
I just shook my head and left.
Smelling my dinner all the way home made my stomach growl even more. Fortunately, I lived in town, on Meadow Street, the last house on a dead-end road. I’d bought it years ago, intending to fix it up, but hadn’t gotten around to doing much of anything with it. It still had the same sad, faded paint and crooked screen door that squeaked when it opened.