“Sorry, Mitch. I’m afraid I’m not the best company.”
“He’s not worth it.”
“Who?” She hoped she didn’t look guilty.
“The shark. He didn’t deserve you.”
“I wasn’t thinking about Pierce.” She’d been thinking of Cam and wondering why he hadn’t been at the New Year’s Day bowl game marathon at his aunt and uncle’s house.
“Have you got some other reason for frowning, sugar?” He leaned back in the booth, arms spread out along the back in a relaxed posture that invited confidences. Norah had reason to know it was, quite often, his default position, part of what made him so appealing. She also knew she could move around to his side
of the booth and burrow in for one of his bear hugs, and he’d listen and make outraged noises in all the right places because he cared. She’d always loved that about him. But when she broke her silence, it needed to be with Miranda first.
“You mean other than the fact that I will soon have to return to the land of crappy tea?” She sipped at the perfectly mixed, syrupy beverage in her glass.
“Ah, work then. You know you’re not supposed to think about work when you’re on vacation.”
“And when have you ever known me not to think about work?”
“You’re the poster child for workaholic.”
“It ain’t good for a body to do nothin’ but work.” Mama Pearl, the heart, soul, and very opinionated mouth of Dinner Belles, leaned over to refill the half-empty glass of sweet tea.
“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” Norah thought again of Cam. You’re more than your job, he’d said. Then what the hell am I?
“Maybe it’s the good Lord sendin’ you a message to slow down, child. Time you be payin’ attention. It shouldn’t take you three years to come back down to visit family.” The broad, dark face was set in lines of censure.
Norah loved that Wishful was a place where they understood that family was more than blood. “Yes ma’am, you’re absolutely right. Thank you for the pie, by the way. It was fabulous.”
“Maybe you’ll pick better next time.”
“I could hardly pick worse.”
“Need to skip out on all them Yankee boys and come find yourself a good Southern man.”
Mitch stretched his arms wide across the back of the booth. “I keep telling her I’m available. She keeps breaking my heart.”
He was handsome, funny, loyal. They had history. But he just didn’t make her heart race. Unlike his quieter cousin. “I’m pretty sure your heart is made of silly putty and easily mended. You fall in love as often as some men change socks.”
“What can I say? Women are fascinating creatures and there are so many flavors to try.”
Mama Pearl wagged one stubby finger in his face. “One of these days, Mitch Campbell, you gonna find yourself one that ruins you for all others, and we all gonna enjoy the show.”
Norah laughed as Mama Pearl ambled away to another table. “Oh, I would love to be around to see the woman who manages that.”
“You could be. What’s really holding you in Chicago?”
Less than you can imagine. But that was on the list of things she really didn’t want to think about just now. “And what would a high-powered marketing executive do down here?”
“I’m sure you could charm everybody into something. I never met anybody who could say no to you.”
“Oh they exist. They’re just really rare. But seriously, I could work up full marketing campaigns for every business in town in a year—not that most of them would even see the need for my kind of skills—then what? I have an urban skill set.”
“There are urban centers below the Mason-Dixon line. You’d at least be close enough to visit more easily and more often. And we could steal you for Christmas. Miranda told me what happened this year.”
Norah shrugged. “It’s the Burke way. We are our own brand of dysfunction.”
“Which is why we made you an honorary Campbell years ago.”