Nobody Does It Better(3)
The women break out in peals of laughter. They usually assemble for a book club at my friend Arden’s store, but tonight they brought the book club here.
Narrowing my eyes, I tap a finger against my lip. “Hmm. Something tells me coconut cake is a euphemism. I wonder.”
From behind her cat eye glasses, Sara lifts a brow as she grabs a glass of the wine. “Not true. I did make a coconut cake after I read this book.” She grabs a paperback from the green-and-white plastic bench seats, slapping a dog-eared The Coincidence of Coconut Cake against her thigh. “Then, my boyfriend and I wanted to see if it was true what they say about coconut.”
Miriam arches a brow. “Coconut?”
Sara’s pure deadpan when she answers. “That it makes certain substances taste better.”
Chuckling, Miriam shakes her head. “Honey, that’s pineapple.”
Sara wiggles her brows. “No, coconut does the trick too.”
From her spot on the bench, CarolAnn adjusts her messy bun, shaking her head while laughing. “Ladies, if you don’t watch your euphemisms, we’re going to get kicked out of Pin-Up Lanes.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “As if I’d ever kick you out for exchanging such useful intel.” I smile then wave toward my usual post behind the counter. “On that note, I’ll leave you to your cake talk. And feel free to not bowl one bit.”
As I leave, CarolAnn calls out, “Vanessa, I love your dress, and I’m jealous you have the figure to pull it off. But not jealous enough to lay off the wine.”
I swivel around, briefly glancing down at my swingy teal-blue number with a cherry pattern. “Wine is never the problem, and you’re stunning. You’d look amazing in a cherry-pattern dress, and you absolutely have the figure for it. I’ll take you shopping to prove it.”
“Wait! I want to go shopping with Vanessa,” Sara calls out.
Miriam’s voice cuts through. “Evidently, you old birds are not above begging this sweet gal to take you shopping. It’s like I can’t take you out in public.”
I laugh and leave the conversation with a wave, heading back behind the counter, where I busy myself checking in a few new bowlers. As I hand shoes to a family of four, I don’t check out Shaw. Yay me. I deserve bonus points tonight.
A little later, Sara beckons me over to their lane with a wiggle of her fingers. “Vanessa, tell me something.” Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s bolder than usual.
“What do you want to know?”
“Are you still single?”
I shoot her a fierce stare for an answer, then I give her a verbal one. “Am I stealing whatever coconut cake you don’t finish tonight? Is wine the greatest beverage ever? Does fashion rule? Yes, yes, yes, I am single.”
Miriam grabs her phone, tapping quickly on the screen, while Sara takes the reins, answering me with, “Good, because we have someone in mind.”
“Who would that be?” I’m not opposed to being set up. I’m open to meeting the right man, whether he’s on an app, knows one of my friends, or is strolling down the street. And these book club ladies not only know men, but they’ve raised boys who’ve become men.
Miriam jumps in. “My stepson. He’s a catch. You know him, I believe, since he grew up here. Jamie Sullivan.”
My eyes widen. “Of course. Jamie Sullivan, as in two years older, captain of the football team, student athlete and valedictorian who went to Yale Law School?”
Miriam beams proudly. “He’s the one.”
My brow knits as I try to remember what I’d last heard about him. “But I thought he was involved?”
Her smile morphs into a satisfied grin. “Not any longer, and thank the Lord. I never did care for her, and she never seemed to care for him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Miriam tuts. “It’s all for the best. I’m glad he figured it out before he proposed. But now he’s single and ready to mingle . . .”
Her phone trills.
Miriam’s eyes flicker with surprise. “Who could that be?”
Sara chuckles as the phone rings again. “Mir, you don’t need to pretend. The jig is up.”
Miriam grabs her mobile but keeps up the ruse. “Oh, look at that. He’s calling.” She answers her phone on a video call. “Hey, sweetie.”
“Hi, Miriam.”
“Jamie, it’s so funny that you called.”
There’s a pause, and then he says in a smooth, masculine voice, “It’s funny? You texted me and asked me to call. You used all caps. ‘CALL ME IN EXACTLY FIVE MINUTES IF I SEND YOU A TEXT WITH A MONKEY FACE EMOJI.’”
I snicker, and Miriam acts perplexed. “I don’t think I said that, but be that as it may—want to hear the most coincidental thing?”
“Sure,” he says, as Miriam adjusts the screen, showing me . . . oh my.
Jamie is even more handsome than I remember. He’s aged well, and his dark-blond hair curls at the ends. Warm amber eyes meet mine, and his square jaw could be the factory model for square jaws. Full lips complete the handsome-as-GQ look. No wonder my little sister, Ella, had a crush on him when she was in eighth grade and he was a senior. I wave at his face on the screen. “Hi, Jamie. How are you?”
“Hey, Vanessa. How the hell are you? And, most important, has my stepmom enlisted you in some crazy scheme?”