Until now.
Her father reached out and—awkwardly—placed his hand over hers. “You matter, Nicole. You and Victoria both do.”
She didn’t know how badly she’d needed to hear those words until her father said them. She wiped at the tears with the back of her hand.
“Now I want you to do something for me,” he said, ignoring her show of emotion.
“What’s that?”
“Find a man who deserves you. Someone warm and caring. Someone not like me.” His lips turned up again in a self-deprecating way.
She managed a laugh.
“Someone like that detective of yours.”
She blushed, unable to answer.
Her father wasn’t expecting a reply. He rose from his chair, pulling his jacket back onto his shoulders, and st
arted for the door.
He grasped the doorknob and paused. “Nicole?”
“Yes?”
He cleared his throat. “You’ve done a wonderful job with this place.”
She blinked hard. So many surprises from him, she couldn’t take them all in. “I . . . Thank you,” she said, to his retreating back as he shut the door behind him.
Macy lived in a garden apartment, a low-rise set of buildings near The Family Restaurant. She loved the location, so close to work, and she also liked being surrounded by people. Her neighbors were composed of a mix of people her own age, married couples, and older folks who’d chosen to downsize from their homes. Macy, being Macy, was friendly with them all, and today was the day she normally checked on her next-door neighbor, Monique Tamm, a recent widow.
Yesterday Macy had picked up sticky buns, Monique’s favorite, so she could drop by for a cup of tea and a chat. She didn’t know why, but she found it easy to talk to people of all ages and always had, which was why her family had designated her hostess, not waitress, from early on.
She and Monique lived on the ground floor, the last two units near the end of the hall, which had the same apartment layout. Their kitchen windows overlooked the parking lot, which, despite its nature, was surrounded by beautiful flowers and trees. The backyard gave them each a view of a manmade lake.
She brought her bakery box with the brightly colored Lulu and Nic’s insignia and knocked. Monique opened the door. Her dark hair with no gray was pulled back in a sleek bun; she had a warm smile on her face and Macy was happy to see her looking relaxed and more at peace than she’d been in a while.
A few minutes later, they settled around the kitchen table, and Macy was drinking the most delicious chamomile tea. As usual, conversation drifted from town gossip to Monique’s past. Today she focused on her early dating days with her husband.
Macy couldn’t imagine losing someone you loved so much, but at least Monique had had over forty-five years. She wasn’t ready to see anyone else, but she was open to the idea of companionship of a sort. Other people, like Macy’s aunt, never got over a loss and compensated in other ways, but Macy suspected her aunt was still lonely and often wished Lulu would find herself a nice man. But she preferred to be alone.
Macy didn’t feel the same way. She was getting tired of her own company. Her friends were slowly but surely marrying and moving on with their lives. And though she’d fallen for Tyler, she knew her feelings had to be superficial at best. After all, she hadn’t spent all that much time with him, so how well could she really know him?
The problem was, what she did know, she liked a lot. Putting his distinguished good looks aside, he was loyal to people he cared about, a good quality even if she was admittedly jealous of the way he looked out for Nicole. He was funny even when he didn’t realize it or mean to be, and she appreciated a man with a sense of humor. He clearly had a strong sense of right and wrong, if his current situation was anything to go by. And when he focused on her, he looked at her as if there weren’t anyplace else in the world he’d rather be.
The problem was, moments like that were few and far between. She didn’t want to hold his problems against him, or the fact that his ex-fiancée was entangled in them too. She just wanted to come first with a man, and until that time, she felt she’d had no choice but to send him away.
“My goodness, you’re a million miles away this morning,” Monique said, snapping her fingers in front of Macy’s face at the same time.
She blinked, startled and flushed. “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere, and that was rude of me.”
“Nonsense. You’re probably bored by the stories I tell you about Charles and our courtship.”
Macy smiled. “No way. I love to hear you reminisce. Honestly.”
“Well, I appreciate the time you give me. Is there anything I can do for you?” Monique asked.
Macy shook her head. She wrapped her hand around the delicate teacup, absorbing its warmth. “No. Maybe.” She laughed. “It’s just that I met a guy and I thought we could have something special, but . . . a lot of time has passed and I think maybe he’s not really interested.”